In My Time

by Scott Anderson

’I hate you’, said the boy. He felt the tears welling up behind his eyes. ’I don’t want to see you, go away.’

 His father stood over him, saying nothing, just looking at his son, his face beginning to work.

The boy continued, getting louder: ‘You embarrass me. When you’re around I just want you to disappear. Don’t come to the game’. Now he was really pissed. His face was wet. Warm wet. He rubbed his hands over his eyes, felt the wet between his clenched fingers. ‘And now you’ll go off and drink, get wasted, make it all shit again. Just like always.’

The father stood back, then leaned forward again, put his face up close to his son’s.

‘Do you want a bet’, he growled in a low voice, turned away, and went out of the room.