Alastair Ramsey (walk_in_silence) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2010-08-15 23:35:00 |
|
|||
Current mood: | irritated |
Entry tags: | alastair ramsey |
Who: Alastair walk_in_silence (and the remembered words of Absinthe!)
When: Sunday, August 14th
Where: Alastair's apartment
What: Consequences of Addiction
Over the weekend, Alastair's relationship with his son had achieved some kind of quiet stability. Will, who had refused to come out of his room for three days, had finally emerged on the third so that he could eat something. Alastair's refusal to give in to Will's demands had worked out in that regard, but the boy still hadn't said more than two words to him. Now that it wasn't a hunger strike, it was a very obvious silent treatment. A step up, for sure, but still not ideal. And Abby's words continued to voice themselves in Alastair's head, though he wasn't actively aware of them. They were there without his knowledge or consent.
"Ah, so very typical. The ex, she probably does not like you. And a mother's word...well if I'd wanted to I could have made my own hate his father. A spurned woman's venom is always so bitter and sweet in her children's ear. It turns any child against any father, all you can do is continue to try. He thinks you are evil. Little can be done about that besides showing he is wrong."
Alastair was trying. He wanted to show Will that he was not evil; that the choice to move to London leaving Will stuck in New York City had been the choice of Alastair's ex-wife. This situation was Marina's fault, not Alastair's. Will's opinion, however, seemed solid and unchanging. Just like Abby had said.
He couldn't stand the silence any more.
Alastair was sitting at the table and reading the paper half-heartedly when Will entered it. "Will," he said, looking up. "How are you today?"
Will ignored his father and instead he headed to the fridge. It opened with a soft chuffing noise and then the teenager bent over, sticking his head inside for a good, old-fashioned forage.
"He's just trying to get under your skin you know. Push and push to see how far you'll go. You have the option of letting him push you, or showing that pushing will get him nowhere. He is your son. He should respect that."
Alastair clenched his jaw as the glass bottles in the fridge rattled around with Will's search for sustenance. Will should respect him. This wasn't respect. "Will," Alastair said, his voice more firm. Alastair put down his paper. "Willard, I am speaking to you and you will speak back to me in return."
Will raised his head above the fridge door, his eyes narrowed because he had just been called 'Willard'.
"The way you are treating me is inexcusable, Will," Alastair continued. "I know you're upset and I'm sorry. But I am your father and you should respect me." No explanation was given as to why. Ordinarily he would have said that he took care of Will. He paid for the boy to be fed and clothed. He was going to be paying a lot more money too now that Will would be there all the time. He had ordered broadband for his son. He had upgraded their television so Will would watch TV without the set dying in the middle of a show. He would have used it all as evidence, but today he did not. Today, without understanding why, he demanded respect for simply being Will's Dad.
Will made a face and still refused to say a word.
Alastair stood up.
"Will," Alastair said, his voice lowering. "Your mother made the decision to go live in London for work. That decision was not mine. I don't understand why you continue to treat me like this when I am giving you a place to stay. You are being terrible to me."
Will shrugged and he grabbed the milk, which he proceeded to drink straight from the carton.
"I remember when boys acted this way and got a good slap. Now everyone is 'child-abuse' this and that. Not that I would ever advertise such a horrible thing, but when I did a bad thing my maman put me over her knee and put the fear of God into me. I never acted out again."
Alastair took a step forward.
"Will, do you want to talk about your girlfriend? Would it help if she-"
Will whirled around, slamming the fridge as he did so. He practically through the carton of milk onto the kitchen counter and then he growled, "you don't even know what you're talking about!"
Well at least the silence had broken. "Will," Alastair said, trying to sound calm now. Trying to calm Will down. "I know that you're upset, but I-"
"Just shut up!" Will yelled then. "I'm so sick of you lot telling me how to feel. Mom doesn't care and you only care that you're upset! What about me!? My entire life is being uprooted! I don't have any friends here. All I have is you and your stupid leprechaun friend!"
Alastair gritted his teeth. Something was building in him and felt something he had never felt before. The overwhelming desire to slap Will across the face. He had never in his life hit Will. He had never even thought to do it. Their relationship had always been tempestuous, and still Alastair had never considered physical discipline. He had simply accepted the yelling and the screaming with good graces and wandered away until things cooled down.
Alastair clenched his fists. "Will-"
"No!" Will yelled. "Fuck you, okay! You just don't get it!" Will stomped off to his room, slamming the door behind him. Alastair breathed out a sigh of relief and he practically melted into a chair, dropping his head into his hands. He didn't even understand what had just happend. Why he had reacted that way.
God, he needed a drink.
Like a robot, his automatic response was to rise from the table and to grab his wallet. He left the house without a word and he headed back to the only place he could think to go. He headed to Abby's bar in the hopes that she would be there.