Not my Father

I froze with my hand on the door. I wanted to turn back and look at him, but I didn’t. I knew what Emerson was like. I stood there for a few seconds as the room grew tenser. And then I smiled.

I opened the door and left, not closing it behind me, not making a move to acknowledge his words or acknowledge him at all. I went straight to my room, with a mixture of emotion within myself.

I was fuming with anger, but for some reason, I couldn’t explain, I was smiling. And then, out of nowhere, I started laughing. I didn’t even know what was so funny.

'What the hell is wrong with Emerson? What is wrong with him?' I thought to myself.

'He did not just say that to me.' But I knew he did.

He just did. I sat on the bed, replaying every second of our night together in my head. It was amazing. It was everything I’d hoped for. So why in the world was Emerson acting this way?

Maybe Emerson is just like his son, Eric. Maybe they’re the same. 'What was I supposed to understand from this? That I wa