Ainsley James Dylan
Bzz.Bzz.Bzz.
I peek at my phone to check who’s calling and promptly hit ‘ignore’ when I see that it’s my dad, opting to shoot him a message instead. I can already feel the familiar frustration brewing inside of me at the mere thought of having to talk to my old man. I usually pride myself on being a good person, at least, I try to be. My dad though, he brings out a side of me that I’m not entirely proud of.
AJ:Sorry Ax-man, busy at the moment. Can you text?
Axel:Ainsley, please stop calling me “Ax-man”, I’m your dad for fuck’s sake. You know I hate texting. Why can’t your generation learn to pick up a phone?
I love how he says that, as if he was ever there for me when I needed him, let alone willing to pick up a phone when Iwantedhim, oh, I don’t know, maybe myentirelife. Okay, that may be a stretch, but at least the last half of it, and that’s after he tore our family to shreds.
The tables have turned daddio, and it fucking hurts, huh?
AJ:Look DAD, I’m at school. You know, the extremely expensive university that you pay for so that I can get a good job and be financially independent someday? I can’t do this right now. Did you need something? Is this important?
The snark in my text comes from a place of hurt that I’d kill to let go of. I can feel the telltale swirl of resentment and turmoil mixing with a faint hint of guilt in my gut. For all the times I’ve tried to help people deal with all the emotions that come from a place of abandonment and mistrust, you’d think I’d manage my own reactions better.
Sometimes I feel like I’m living the age old adage,those who can’t do, teach. Only I’m perfectly capable of ‘doing’, I just don’t want to. Dealing with my baggage is right up there on my ToNotDo list, along with getting all of my teeth pulled, shaving my head, or becoming famous. None of those seem appealing to me in the slightest, so avoidance is key.
It’s the complete opposite of what I’d tell anyone else to do. Burying negative emotions is truly bad for the soul. I know this. It festers and grows like an infected wart, but every time I think I’m ready to confront my feelings, something holds me back. Fear probably, but that’s a concern for another day.
Axel:No, I guess nothing I have to say is more important than your education. I just miss you Ains. I’m getting ready to go out on tour and I’d like to see you before I have to leave, or maybe we can have lunch when I hit the Big Apple?
Of course he’s going on tour. When is he not though? I’ve seen the promotional updates for the upcoming tour dates all over social media. It won’t technically happen until the beginning of next summer, but there’s a lot of preparation or promotion to do beforehand and the time passes quickly. Apparently they’ve added a couple of up and coming bands to their set as well. He lives for adding extra shows in and if he can help share the love with other bands, he’s usually all for it. Gotta love the life of booze, babes, and blow. He loved it so much, he gave up his family for it. My bad, that’s not quite right. He gave up his wife and only daughter because of themusic. That’s it. The music is his one true love and even I couldn’t compete. Not then at least, and now I don’t have it in me to try and care. It hurts too much when he inevitably lets me down.
AJ:I’ll try to call later, but sure. Enjoy your upcoming tour. I heard the Vipers have turned your national tour to a worldwide event. I bet you’re over the moon.
Axel:You know me, party animal until sweet death takes me… Call me when you can. I love you…
AJ:…
I don’t mean to hesitate before responding, but ever since my mom and I left my dad behind in Los Angeles and moved to the small town of Eastport, Maine, I’ve had a really hard time saying those four little words.I love you too. And it’s not because I don’t, but my unwanted resentment for the way he destroyed our family usually feels like it outweighs my love for him a lot of the time. Just thinking about it, my heart feels like it’s corroded at the edges, bitterness and disdain for him and his music becoming more and more prominent by each passing second.
AJ:Yep! #LifeGoals and all that… Talk soon.
Dropping my phone into my bag, I plaster a big fake smile onto my face because I’m determined to fake it ‘til I make it. The telltale sign of welling tears start up and there’s nothing I want to deal with less so I metaphorically pull on my big girl panties and shove my feelings down into the pits of hell.
With my phone no longer in hand, I don’t bother waiting for a response from dad, because I’m working myself up and I hate that ugly feeling that stirs in my gut. Feeling so hostile toward my own father isn’t pleasant, nor is it something I want to give energy to. With anyone else I wouldn’t be a grudge holder, but I’m the one who had to live through the dark period that mom went through after the fallout of their divorce. I’m the one who stayed up at night worrying if it would be the last night I had with my only best friend left in the whole world.
At first, I hadn’t recognized the signs, too lost in my own selfish thoughts of leaving my life behind. My friends were everything to me at that point and I’d had to leave them behind without a single way to get a hold of them. It was traumatizing for a lonely fourteen year old me who’s only care in the world were five boys that made my heart beat a little faster whenever they were near. To this day, I carry them in my heart, but couldn’t bear to face them again.
Not ever.
I don’t deserve them. And honestly, I don’t believe in the love I so naively believed we shared once upon a time. Maybe it’s my own way of punishing myself for having such self-serving thoughts and not seeing my mom mentally falling apart at the seams. Or maybe I subconsciously fear that the sun and moon will rise and fall with my every thought of them again and I’ll once again become ignorant to anyone other than them, leaving me vulnerable. Either way, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, which is why all of my social media is under tight wraps—not that I use it much—and I haven’t sought them out now that we’re adults.
My mom is such a kind hearted and loving person.
You’d never know the battle she fights within herself everyday just by looking at her. She dedicates all of her waking hours to volunteering at the homeless shelter, the battered women and children’s center, and even the animal abuse center in our hometown. Her heart is so big and she genuinely cares for all beings equally. So, after we left my dad, when I finally saw her fall into a downward spiral of depression for what it was, it left a dark stain on my soul and I’ve never fully recovered.
I look down at my midriff, cut-off hoodie that says,Find Your Reason To Stay, and find it ironic that he called me on today of all days and he probably still doesn’t even know the significance because he couldn’t be bothered at the time to pick up his phone. It’s the anniversary of the day I gave up on my dad for good.
Seven years ago today, I came home after my last shift of the season at our local ice cream shop in town. I’d been so excited to turn fifteen at the beginning of summer and was still the new girl in town so I hadn’t made many friends. It made sense for me to get a summer job, or so I’d thought. All I could think about at the time was that I needed to distract myself from the overwhelming sense of loss of my dad and best friends or I’d go crazy.
My mom had taken my phone and deleted all of my social media accounts at the time, because the paparazzi would’ve had a field day if they’d found us. And while I know she was trying to protect me, I sometimes wonder if she wasn’t also trying to eradicate anything left from our old life. Like, she couldn’t bear to face everything we’d lost.
I hadn’t realized yet how hard the divorce had been on my mom because she always put me first. Getting caught up in my own pain, I couldn’t even recognize hers. She hid it well, as I assume most parents try to. At least until she didn’t. I can still feel the wretched churn in my stomach, the residual guilt from not paying enough attention. My mom was suffering, completely falling apart while I was dishing out ice cream, pretending I wasn't missing my best friends and old life. I was so inconsiderate.
I’d come home to find her sprawled out awkwardly on the bathroom floor of our new house and she’d reeked of alcohol and her glazed over eyes had begun closing so slowly it was scary. I’d run to her and checked her pulse, which had been practically non-existent. Her breathing had slowed down so significantly that I knew she was in serious danger. I recognized the signs in that moment that she was not only high, but she’d overdosed on something. I hadn’t been as naive as she had hoped when it came to the things my dad experienced when he was gone on tour. He never bothered to shield me from any of it because he thinks knowledge is power. It’s smarter to know what might happen and be prepared for it. If my mom knew that, she’d have lost her mind. To her my innocence was more important.
