to be good," Jackson said. "Offensive line is solid and wait until you see Parker run. He's going to be a star."
"Parker's that boy from Miami?"
"Yeah."
"Oh yeah, he is going to be good. As long as he keeps his act together. Heard he had a little trouble in high school."
"Naw, he's got his head on straight."
"Good to hear, good to hear it. Team's all yours now. It's your job to lead ‘em."
"Yes, sir."
He turned to me. "Son, let's take a walk."
I hesitated, focused on watching the dynamic between him and Jackson. Jackson caught my eyes, but I looked away. I rubbed the back of my neck and studied the carpet.
Jackson hated my father, but based only on what I told him. In front of Jackson, in front of anyone, my dad was the ideal father.
"Brothers, it was good to see you."
"You too, Brother Griffin," Randolph said.
"Randolph. Join me and my son in my boxes for the game tomorrow."
"Yes, sir."
My dad exited the room, and I followed with my head hanging. No way was I going to watch the game in my dad’s suite.
We walked outside. My dad strolled to the far end of the porch, and I followed.
"Tell me the truth, you doing okay, Son?"
"Yes, sir," I said.
"Did you attend the party last night?"
"I hung around for a bit but got bored."
"No temptations?" he asked.
"No sir. I'm fine." I tried hard to control the tone of my voice.
"Come on, J, I'm not an idiot. You look like shit." I hated it when he called me J.
"I didn't sleep well last night."
"You high?"
"No. I'm not high, I'm not drunk, I haven't taken a pill, and I haven't hit anyone. I'm fine."
"Okay, okay. I believe you."
"No, you don't."
"Well, I believe Jackson, and he says you’re doing fine. He’ll keep an eye on you. You know this is your last shot. There is nothing else after this. You screw this up and—"
"I know," I yelled, and my body tensed. "I'm trying here," I said in a more appropriate tone.
"Well, try harder."
He spoke all of this with a grin plastered on his face. If anyone walked by, we looked like we were an ordinary father and son chatting on a September afternoon.
No one understood how much we hated each other, except maybe Jackson. After years of pretending, we played our roles well.
My father walked off the porch to his black Mercedes parked at the curb. He demanded I meet him for breakfast and the game tomorrow. I refused to answer out loud, just nodded.
As soon as he pulled away, I sprinted up the stairs. I entered Jackson's room without knocking.
"Fuck you, Jackson. I don't need a babysitter."
He stood by his bed, packing for the game.
"What are you talking about?"
"My dad having you look out for me. Making sure I don't screw up. I don't need you watching my every move."
He turned and sat on his bed. He started to speak but stopped himself.
"What? Why do you keep doing that?"
"Doing what?"
"You obviously have something to say, so fucking say it already."
"Okay. First of all, I didn't agree to watch out for you. You're a grown-ass man, and I have my own life to worry about." He stood up and started pacing. "And second, I don't know what to say to you. I don't know you anymore."
I stared at him and blew out a breath to calm down, but my chest hurt for another reason. Over the years, despite all the shit I’d put him through, he stood by me. Now, it was different. I heard it in his voice. He was done with me. I turned and walk out of the room.
"Josh, man, wait."
I headed straight into my room and attempted to shut the door, but Jackson followed and blocked it. He stood in the doorway with his arms crossed.
"Leave me alone, Jackson."
"You're so stupid, man."
"Yeah, well..." I sat on the bed and picked at the comforter. I hated this comforter. Hated this room.
"I don't get it. You screwed up your own life to get back at your dad for being such a dick. That is stupid. It doesn't make sense. He treated you like shit. He didn't love you. He was a terrible father to you and a horrible husband to your mom."
"What's
"Parker's that boy from Miami?"
"Yeah."
"Oh yeah, he is going to be good. As long as he keeps his act together. Heard he had a little trouble in high school."
"Naw, he's got his head on straight."
"Good to hear, good to hear it. Team's all yours now. It's your job to lead ‘em."
"Yes, sir."
He turned to me. "Son, let's take a walk."
I hesitated, focused on watching the dynamic between him and Jackson. Jackson caught my eyes, but I looked away. I rubbed the back of my neck and studied the carpet.
Jackson hated my father, but based only on what I told him. In front of Jackson, in front of anyone, my dad was the ideal father.
"Brothers, it was good to see you."
"You too, Brother Griffin," Randolph said.
"Randolph. Join me and my son in my boxes for the game tomorrow."
"Yes, sir."
My dad exited the room, and I followed with my head hanging. No way was I going to watch the game in my dad’s suite.
We walked outside. My dad strolled to the far end of the porch, and I followed.
"Tell me the truth, you doing okay, Son?"
"Yes, sir," I said.
"Did you attend the party last night?"
"I hung around for a bit but got bored."
"No temptations?" he asked.
"No sir. I'm fine." I tried hard to control the tone of my voice.
"Come on, J, I'm not an idiot. You look like shit." I hated it when he called me J.
"I didn't sleep well last night."
"You high?"
"No. I'm not high, I'm not drunk, I haven't taken a pill, and I haven't hit anyone. I'm fine."
"Okay, okay. I believe you."
"No, you don't."
"Well, I believe Jackson, and he says you’re doing fine. He’ll keep an eye on you. You know this is your last shot. There is nothing else after this. You screw this up and—"
"I know," I yelled, and my body tensed. "I'm trying here," I said in a more appropriate tone.
"Well, try harder."
He spoke all of this with a grin plastered on his face. If anyone walked by, we looked like we were an ordinary father and son chatting on a September afternoon.
No one understood how much we hated each other, except maybe Jackson. After years of pretending, we played our roles well.
My father walked off the porch to his black Mercedes parked at the curb. He demanded I meet him for breakfast and the game tomorrow. I refused to answer out loud, just nodded.
As soon as he pulled away, I sprinted up the stairs. I entered Jackson's room without knocking.
"Fuck you, Jackson. I don't need a babysitter."
He stood by his bed, packing for the game.
"What are you talking about?"
"My dad having you look out for me. Making sure I don't screw up. I don't need you watching my every move."
He turned and sat on his bed. He started to speak but stopped himself.
"What? Why do you keep doing that?"
"Doing what?"
"You obviously have something to say, so fucking say it already."
"Okay. First of all, I didn't agree to watch out for you. You're a grown-ass man, and I have my own life to worry about." He stood up and started pacing. "And second, I don't know what to say to you. I don't know you anymore."
I stared at him and blew out a breath to calm down, but my chest hurt for another reason. Over the years, despite all the shit I’d put him through, he stood by me. Now, it was different. I heard it in his voice. He was done with me. I turned and walk out of the room.
"Josh, man, wait."
I headed straight into my room and attempted to shut the door, but Jackson followed and blocked it. He stood in the doorway with his arms crossed.
"Leave me alone, Jackson."
"You're so stupid, man."
"Yeah, well..." I sat on the bed and picked at the comforter. I hated this comforter. Hated this room.
"I don't get it. You screwed up your own life to get back at your dad for being such a dick. That is stupid. It doesn't make sense. He treated you like shit. He didn't love you. He was a terrible father to you and a horrible husband to your mom."
"What's
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