Page 75 of Three Not-So-Little Words
Drew
Iwalk to my fridge and grab another beer off of the top shelf. Thank God I remembered to get booze at the store this time.
Earlier today, I went grocery shopping and stocked up on all the essentials…and I guess a whole lot that’s not considered essential. I’ve been so busy with Colton and work through the week and Ronnie on the weekends that I haven’t had much time to do all the boring adult stuff.
With Ronnie having to take a quick trip to Sacramento for work, I figured it was a good time to play catch up.
Last night was the first time I wasn’t busy indadmode or in bed with Ronnie.
And it was boring as fuck.
She and I talked a little, but nothing like what we have been. Sure, I was disappointed, but I get it. It’s not a big deal. She’s supposed to be home early enough tomorrow that we can spend the day together before Colton gets home.
I take a seat back on the couch and scroll through the streaming services until I find something to watch. I settle on a cooking show with Gordon Ramsay yelling at people.
“When will they learn to stop undercooking chicken?” I ask out loud.
A notification from social media pops up on my phone. Since I stopped fighting, I got rid of all of my public persona profiles and have gone back to myrealone that’s private. I’m hardly ever on it because it’s basically crickets all the time.
I pick up my phone and see that it’s a friend request. When I open the app, I learn who it’s from.
My mother.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Every few months, she makes a new profile and tries to insert herself back into my world.
You’d think after all this time that she would get the hint.
But I don’t know that she’ll ever stop. My dad and brother seem to have finally gotten the hint that I want nothing to do with them because I haven’t heard from either of them in ages. Thank God. Now, I have to deal with only one crazy person as opposed to three.
Just for shits and giggles, I go to her profile. Her main photo is a picture of a dog rather than herself. She probably doesn’t want to show me how much of a toll the drugs have taken.
Wasting no more time, I hit the block button and put my phone back down.
I love my family. I do. But it took me way too long to realize that just because you love something, that doesn’t mean it’s good for you. After I became a dad, I made the decision to distance myself from all that negativity.
I take another long swig of beer in an attempt to forget about all of their bullshit for the moment. But I’m not sure that I have enough on hand to make that happen.
My mind flashes back to the last time I saw any of them. I went home to grab the very last of my stuff—and to tell them I was no longer interested in being their ATM. The visit ended with my dad throwing a glass ashtray at my head and my mom running after me, half crying and half cussing me out. After that, I was stupid enough to take their phone calls for a while. But it became obvious that I had to go no-contact. Thank God I never gave them my address in Miami—just a PO box. I know they would have ended up camping outside my door, and I never would have gotten rid of them.
Sometimes, I feel guilty like I’m somehow responsible for their wellbeing. And I hate that Colton is missing out on knowing his grandparents and uncle.
I have to remind myself, though, that I can’t help anyone who doesn’t want to be helped. And Colton doesn’t need people around who will continually let him down.
I grew up dealing with that. I won’t make him endure the same thing.
My phone vibrates again. I consider simply ignoring it, but my curiosity gets the best of me. I’m grateful it does because it’s a text from Ronnie.
Hey, stud. What are you doing?
Just watching TV and having a beer. How about you?
Sitting in a hotel room, wishing I got an earlier flight back.
You and me both, beautiful. But I’m excited to see you tomorrow.
Just got word that my flight tomorrow may be delayed, so we may have to postpone again.
Of course, I’m disappointed, but I don’t want her to feel bad about it. It’s not her fault.
