I can see your pain. I share that pain. You don’t look at me quite right because I’m bald. But I know you want me out of your life, and I can feel that. Our relationship is over. “I can’t keep going on this,” you say. I promise I’ll get you out of the house so you can enjoy your own life. But I don’t want you, and I can’t tell you why. Your only wish is to escape from me. I gave you a wide berth when you were growing up because you were the youngest and I thought you could handle a sibling. I’ve given you space to yourself as you grew older. But your life in the house is what you’ve always known. A woman began moving into the house in your ninth grade year, but kept it a secret from me.
What have you been doing with all your time in the house? Watching TV, crying in your room, trying to find friendship for the first time. You got this cell phone, but you never went for it because the practice list had letters and numbers that came to you. I was left behind. “I can’t be that way to you,” you kept telling me, until you became suicidal at the end of last year.
When I first started dating him, I thought he was the one. He and I both said we wanted a baby. We loved taking care of each other, and when we had dinner, I’d talk for hours. I was the one who loved to study, and be around people. In fact, if you look at my younger self, you’ll see the two sides of me. The introverted one because I preferred to spend my time alone in front of the TV. The adventurous side, the one I’d take a trip to the Caribbean to see the whales. He was my best friend, as he was more than a sibling to me.
I don’t feel guilty for being a baby, and I don’t want to stay a baby, but I would like you out of my life. I would really like to go on vacations with the kids. I like that you talk about marriage. I guess I just need you to tell me why you want me out of your life.