At some point in the last month I became extremely wealthy or a complete whore. Of course, I am being facetious, but please understand I am about to rant. But before I do, let me lay a little foundation so you may understand the magnitude of my ire. If you are or every will be a published writer I pray you do not have to ever deal with this sort of smack in the face.
Some of you know my parents divorced when I was 7. What many do not know is the reason my parents divorced was because my biological father is a jackhole. No, really, he is a selfish person that told my begging mother to get out…he was tired of her. Maybe now is the time to mention he sent her and us kids on our way with $500 and a car, or that he was an alcoholic that beat the tar out of my Momma frequently. Maybe now is the time to say I watched him break Momma’s jaw or beat my older brother with a 2×4. Or maybe how he continually cheated us with other women (when people cheat, they cheat their whole family.) Maybe now is the time to mention that he was perfectly nice when he was sober, but that was not enough for me to remember., or maybe that Momma would have stayed if she could of because back then you married for better or worse…it just so happened that she had an unbalanced portion of worse.
Needless to say, I have battled with forgiving him. Not nearly as much as my two older siblings. Their memories were much more vivid than mine, and his cruelty never extended to me, just those I love.
He calls about twice a year and stays on the phone long enough to say hi, I did this, I did that, you’re good, bye. Oh, yes, he always adds that he loves me. Umm…sure you do. I’m not being hateful, just realistic. He doesn’t even know all of my children’s names or their ages. He has no idea what my favorite color is or how long I’ve been married. Last year, he called the day before my birthday. My stomach flipped. I remember thinking…Oh, he remembered or asked someone, maybe he is finally growing up or wants to know the people that share dna with him. But, no, he was drunk and decided to make himself feel good by calling his youngest daughter. He told me about his motorcycling and I restrained myself from telling him where he could shove his handlebars.
None of this would probably bother me at all except I am spoiled by a wonderful family that really do care how my day was. Momma and Daddy ( by marriage and heart) always want what is best for me and have never let me down. My Daddy knows all of my children’s birthdays, favorite foods, favorite games, eye color, kind of music they like…see that is what happens when you really love people. You find out all there is to know about them. You share their lives with them.
And I don’t want to hear a load of bull about my biological father being several states away. I happen to have friends that live all the way around the world or in different states and they know my favorite color is red because it is bold and my birthday is in July.
So now that you know the foundation you will surely understand my ire when last night I received a call from Indianapolis. Shoot, he is so good with his drink that he hardly slurs. He said he was retiring again and that he missed us. <taps finger>
Him- “How are you doing, kid?”
Me- “My book finally published.” You’d know that if you listened.
Him- “Where’s my copy?”
Grrrr…If I could have reached through the phone and slapped him, I think I would have. I just spent four years of my life learning how to write and creating a story that may be worth paying for. I went through the process of learning the ropes of publishing and getting a publisher that gets me and knows me better than you. And YOU want me to send you a book for free? Did something happen that I don’t know about and you lost all the money you have stashed away? Or do you think I am made of money? Better yet, do you think so little of me that you think I am a whore that is so desperate to get people to read her book and like it that I would cheapen my soul and give it away?
Now, jackhole, tell me you love me while I try not to take advantage of the fact that you are drunk and tell you what I really think. If I ever give you a book, rest assured it will be crammed in a very dark, dark place and you will have to swallow to flip the page.