The Bartenders Son

The Phone Call

    I looked down at my phone and your name came across it; a feeling of dread washes over me because I already know what you wanted. I guess a part of me knew this was coming for some time now but a part of me was trying to hold out hope. I was praying I was wrong but I picked up and there you were on the other end saying we needed to talk. I was thinking to myself here it comes. 

“We need to talk. 

I’m headed home now. 

Okay.” Click.

    With that we hung up and then my classmates asked me if I was okay. I just faked a smile and said of course. Which I got very good at lately. For this I swear was the longest drive home of my life. After what felt like a century I finally arrived home to the deperding doom that awaited me on the other side of that door. Like a sloth I put my key into the lock turning it. My mind was running wild with the thoughts of what would be said if I keep it together without saying something I regret later. If there was a later to have. 

“Rosalyn. 

Bryan.

We need to talk.

Can I have a minute too at least put my backpack down. 

Now, Rosalyn. I am not letting you weasel your way out of this again. 

Okay, what do you want to talk about?

I can't do this anymore. 

What do you mean?

Don't give me that I know you feel it too. It has not been working for a while but we got too comfortable with each other to believe more than this.”

The next thing I knew we arrived in our bedroom and there was a suitcase on my side of the bed. 

“So, you're kicking me out.”

But I already knew his answer and the last shred of hope I had went with it. So, I pulled out a few drawers with my stuff and through it in the bag. Then throw the bag over my shoulder. 

“Please Rosalyn let me. 

Don't you think you did enough today. 

Rosalyn. 

No, I have nothing left to say to you. 

Please, I cant Rosalyn let you drive like this. 

Well, maybe you should have thought about that earlier and why do you care? I'm not your problem anymore.”