daily – 4

He straightens up and leaves without looking back. I watch him go.

I want to say something, something fatherly, something dad-like, but all that comes out is the last thing I should be saying. “Have you got any homework?”

His door shuts.

I sigh and count to five, trying to work up the proper indignation. “Patrick! I asked you a question!” Missed the mark again.

His silence forces my hand, but instead of getting up, I’m already arguing with myself about why I’m harassing him over this. All he did was ask to go somewhere interesting on vacation. Anywhere, really.

The little anime scream from my computer speakers saves us both the trouble of me getting up and pushing the issue. I tap on Patrick’s email that just popped up. He’s attached his nightly homework checklist and his files.

I feel guilty for feeling better about not having to address his ignoring me, because, in a sense, he hasn’t, as the email is proof. And he’s already done his homework. What parent wouldn’t be thrilled at this? Why am I trying so hard to make myself feel good about this?

I consider checking some of the files, but I know they’re done. He’s not a genius, not with my genes cluttering things up, but he is clever. I don’t know how he managed three study periods, but at least he’s not ditching school, right honey?

God I wish you were here.


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