December 25, 2013

Lovely service last night, I think.

DD was lurking in the vestibule. When I recognized her I said, “Merry Christmas! How are you!”

“I suck.”

“And how are the kids?”

“Fucked. I’m here to get away from them. Isabella ran after me calling ‘Where are you going?’ but I was damned if she was going to come along.”

It took me a moment to realize I wasn’t hearing the standard holiday chatter. The children are high school drop-out dope heads who tell her to get the fuck out of their rooms. It went on for a while as I tried to pull away. I think she thought she was eliciting sympathy from me, but she was actually telling me how she managed to ruin three beautiful kids.

What is the message I take with that? Fathers, if you’ve married selfish floozies, don’t die too soon? Drank too much, still rifting up Bailey’s, on my way to Atlanta.