Free Losing Romeo by A.J. Byrd

can’t work, provide and sit on top of you to make sure that you’re doing everything that you’re supposed to do. That isn’t fair, and you know it! SHOPLIFTING? SMOKING POT?” He hits the steering wheel again. “WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH YOU?”
    My tears are falling so fast that I close my eyes in an attempt to block everything out. But that’s impossible today.
    â€œYou’ve been in high school what—a little less than two months, and you’re already a rebel without a cause?”
    I feel him whipping the car into Oak Hill Apartments. A few seconds later, he pulls into his usual parking spot. I’m hopping out of the car before he even gets a chance to shut off the engine.
    â€œTyler!”
    I ignore him and rush toward our apartment. I know that he’s hot on my tail, and if it wasn’t for me having to slow down and fiddle with the damn lock, I would’ve made it to my bedroom and slammed the door before he could catch up with me. Instead, he grabs me by the arm in the living room and forces me to spin back around.
    â€œYou hold on, little girl. We’re not through with this discussion.”
    â€œWhat is there left to say? I’m an expensive, pain-in-the-ass kid. I get it.”
    â€œWhy in the hell weren’t you in school?”
    â€œI left so I could steal and smoke pot . I thought that we’d already gone over this?”
    My father steps so close to me that I can feel his fiery anger just roll off of him. “Don’t. Try. Me. Tyler.” His gaze stabs my own. “I’m not one of these little girls you’re always trying to fight, so I suggest you watch that mouth of yours before you write a check your ass can’t cash.”
    I snatch my arm back. “No, you’re not. You’re father of the year,” I accuse him. “You’re too concerned with your job to even notice that I’m alive.”
    â€œWhat the hell are you talking about?” He steps back and stares me down. “What? You want attention? Is that what this is all about? Your getting locked up is some desperate cry for my attention?”
    I shake my head at him. He doesn’t get it. He won’t get it. “Just forget it.” I start to turn away, but once again, I’m forced to turn back around.
    â€œWe’re not finished talking, young lady.” He then proceeds to pull in several deep breaths, trying to calm down, but at this point I don’t think that’s really possible for either one of us. “I’m trying to talk to you. I’ve been trying to talk to you, but all you give me is either the silent treatment or snappy one-liners. I can’t tell if you’re trying to be a mute or a comedian.”
    â€œYou’re not talking to me, you’re yelling at me!”
    â€œI think under the current circumstances that I have the right to yell, Tyler! You’re doing things I don’t understand. Make me understand what’s going on with you!”
    I do understand his frustration but I can’t explain something that I don’t understand myself. My emotions are all over the map. At least I know that much. I’m angry all the time, and I don’t know what to do about it.
    â€œTalk to me, Tyler.”
    How? How can I talk to him about this huge hole my mother’s leaving left in my heart without sounding like some whining baby who doesn’t know how to deal with life? Instead of time healing all wounds, it seems like they’re just sitting there festering into some incurable disease that’s eating me alive.
    While these thoughts race around in my head, my father’s shoulders collapse in the face of what he undeniably sees as another dose of the silent treatment. He shakes his head.
    â€œSo what am I supposed to do now? Huh?” He cocks his head. “Should I get a babysitter to watch you in the evenings? Do I need each teacher at that school to