Athena Roman

Hold Me Close and Drop Me
2013-07-17 07:03:30 (UTC)

David

The next time I visited my father was the summer after third grade. I called my mother every night and she always told me about this guy she was dating, named David. She made him sound like an amazing guy, so I was pumped to meet him. She told me about how my room was decorated and they got me a comforter set and that we had cable.

When I got home, I met the David my mother was engaged to. I didn't judge at first. But after a month or two, I really started to dislike my mother's most recent man toy. He never took his medication, having a mental meltdown at least once a weak, he refused to bathe and did so once a month, and he was really freaking stupid. The smart, charming, handsome guy my mother bragged about was anything but. The tattoo-covered, smelly, psychotic, immature, coke-head my mother was in love with made children in the neighborhood run home crying at the sight of him. All he cared about was Myspace and bikes. I remember being pissed off because I could never play Runescape because David was busy watching his porn, which makes me laugh now.

We went over to David's parents' to do laundry. That's when David's father began molesting me. And it sucked, but whatever.

I was a little shit to David. I stuck pads to his pillow because he was literally afraid of catching a menstrual cycle. I put interesting things on the pads, starting off with lipstick and escalating to extra chunky salsa. I put peanut butter in front of the bedroom door on paper plates. I always tortured the men my mother slept with. It's part of my job description.

On a class field trip on a ferry ride and to the museum under The Arch, David decided to go along. My teacher looked genuinely afraid of him. He asked where he could smoke during lunch and yelled at half of my classmates. He spared the one friend I had, which I'm thankful for because she was autistic and would have had a meltdown. That was the last time I let David go on any field trips.




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