Thirteen
“Is your brother there?”
I held my phone away from my ear and stared at the screen. No Hi Bethany. No How are you? Just Is your brother there?
Love you, too, Daddy.
No matter how many times he gave me the cold shoulder, blew me off because he had better things to do or I wasn’t doing what he wanted, I always held out that tiny piece of hope. The unfounded hope that someday he would realize just how much I loved him, how much his dismissal hurt, and he would actually talk to me. Show an interest in my life. Believe in my choices and trust that I would get where I wanted to go—or be ready to catch me if I didn’t.
See me as more than a disappointment and a receptionist.
It hurt so much that I lashed out.
“Here,” I threw the receiver at Randy’s lifeless form, slumped on my couc
