The Send-Off

There are melt-downs and stand-offs, and then there are melt-downs and stand-offs. They never seem to be about anything important. This one was about financial advice, a mild warning about the dangers of overdrafts. She walked away in mid-sentence. I hate that, and she knows it, I'm sure, and it's just a sign of contempt. The mild suggestions that she return to hear me out didn't work very well, and it escalated from there. I was about to tell her to get the fuck back, but only got as far as the "f."

"Don't you friggin' cuss at me!" I wasn't actually in a mood to point out the irony implicit in her statement, so I put a hand on each of her shoulders. That didn't go over very well either.

"Don't touch me!"

I wonder when it gets better. Friends that have gone through this before me aren't encouraging; one would up in counseling. But this is different. I'm not the birth father, so I get a special brand of contempt - thinly veiled hatred, coupled with an air of dismissal. And I'm sure that sounds familiar to most parents. Maybe so, but I can't say that it's any comfort to know that others go through the same thing, or even worse. I'm still leaving town, and that was the send-off. And perhaps the preview of what's in store when I return.