Don’t Hate Me, Cause I Love Myself

*This story contains the topics of mild physical violence, threats of suicide, as well as discussions surrounding mental illness. Reader discretion is advised

Childhood is one of the most important starting points for any future adult. Troy knew this as he watched his wife Valentina, progress more and more in her pregnancy. The young couple was ahead of the ball in so many ways. Getting the nursery prepared months in advance. Troy purchased a new car that was more family friendly. The Lincoln Aviator provided the Brooks family that luster of class while being spacious enough for the whole family to enjoy each other's company. But as Troy gazed on his heavenly wife as she slept, his fears of being an inept father began to build and fester in him. He couldn't help but feel inadequate to raise a baby boy or girl. His experiences were jaded very much so by his upbringing with his own father, and the dysfunctionality of it all. The soon to be dad spent a lot of time reflecting on the relationship he shares with his father, sifting through memory after memory hoping for a glimmer of nurturing behavior out of the man. All he found were superficial moments of affection followed by rather disturbing bouts of immaturity and manipulation. The idea of being a grandfather consistently delighted Troy’s father. But, upon spending the night going through every possible event of his childhood, Troy felt that it was time to inform his father he no longer wanted him in his life. It was a tough decision but it needed to be made. 

The relationship between a father and son is always for the most part strained by testosterone, lack of communication, and the difference in generational upbringing. But, Truman and Troy had an odd relationship from the very beginning. The older Brooks wife, Lorraine was killed in a car accident while Troy was just 6 years old. Leaving Troy’s father to be sole caretaker of the boy. This is where the wholesome effect of the Brooks story fades. Truman’s role as caretaker was one in name only. In many instances Troy was more of a parent than his father. Nursing his hungover father after a long night at the bar and some nights cooking for the two so they could have a decent meal. The young boy by the age of ten was comparable to a therapist for his father as he naturally was unable to sustain a stable relationship. Helping him navigate through his relationships with various women after his mother’s death, not just emotionally but doing the best he could also trying to advise his father on issues related to the bedroom. He wasn’t speaking from the perspective of experience, Troy merely wanted to be a good son and help his father be happy. He was the only person he had left in this world and he didn’t want to abandon him. 

The elements of the father-son dynamic drastically teetered and shifted from day to day based on the daily psychology of the elder Brooks. Many days Troy at the age of fifteen was forced to drive his father to the hospital for paranoia. Frequent schoolbag checks, cameras placed in various positions throughout their homes, and frequent visits to Troy’s school masqueraded as emergencies. Who was supposed to be a tranquil protector quickly turned into a banana republic despot. Troy was a citizen of the state under twenty four hour surveillance by a ruler whose fears of the worst haunted him like a phantom of old. Angry threats of the father’s impending suicide always left Troy constantly checking his phone and responding when his father messaged him. No matter how problematic, abusive or destructive his father was, the boy stood by him. Many events and milestones were missed out on for the young boy because of his fear of perceived abandonment of his father. The anxiety of facing a father whose mental health staggered consistently left Troy at times feeling lonely and destitute in his own abode. Troy always found himself identifying with the caged elephant at a circus. A large, magnificent and powerful beast hindered by rusted metallic bars, forced to be something against his very nature.  

The tears coaxed Troy out of his reminiscent trance and realized it was getting late. He realized how much he had lost, because of his father’s shortcomings. But the morning was drawing nearer, and he had enough of the recalling of his demented childhood. Troy went to bed feeling more sound in his decision. That his father was ill equipped to be in a family and unless he wanted the help there was little that could be done to change him. The next morning he decided he would tell his wife of his decision. He wasn’t sure of her response, the optimist that she was but Troy was adamant about the fact that he didn’t want his father ruining or disturbing the new family he and his wife were building. 

The next morning, Troy sat down with Valentina and shared his midnight thoughts with her. She looked at him with her honest brown eyes and told him, “I wish I didn’t have to say this but, I agree with you honey.” Troy looked astonished, there wasn’t any discussion or exchange of discourse about family and its importance. Valentina understood and she agreed with Troy. Having heard the stories her husband told and even remembering the chance encounters she had with Truman herself, she wasn’t to privy on seeing the elder Brooks more often. The two decided that since Thanksgiving was coming up they would use that opportunity to break it to Truman he was no longer welcome there. 

The weeks flew by and soon the day was finally there. The holiday of family gatherings for the Brooks would be a day of division. That very concept came to mind as Troy cooked. He hoped that his dad would forget. Maybe he would be invited to another event and blow his family off. But Troy’s hopes were dashed by the abrupt knocks at the door. He recognized them and immediately identified them as his father. He opened the door to a man who was oddly jovial. So jovial one would’ve easily second guessed the decision that Troy would make, but not Troy. He had lived in fear and tolerance of his father’s toxicity long enough it was time for him to stand up for himself and his new family. 

The dinner was wonderful but unfortunately it was ruined by the anxiety of the married couple, who couldn’t enjoy themselves fearing what was about to occur. Truman noticed his son was sweating after his meal despite the cool autumn air blowing into the house. He asked jovially, “What’s wrong son, you're sweating like a pig.” Troy gulped down the last drops of his wine knowing he would need it to prepare for what he was about to do. “Dad, I was talking to Valentina and we had a good conversation.” The father quickly nodded his head in reassurance while he guzzled down his drink, unaware of the blow he was about to sustain. Troy continued “Dad, I don’t know how to say this but I don't want you around my family any more. You make me nervous and you're very unpredictable and I can’t be left trying to guess every thought in your head.” Truman’s gaze shifted towards his plate of finished food. It began to writhe and contort in an almost demonic show of anger and discontent. “What do you think because you're gonna be a new father now, you know everything?” He condescendingly asked. His voice began to elevate almost to a degree of shrieks and screams in an auditory blur of noise. Troy had flashbacks to his childhood being embarrassed by self destructive voicemails of his father wailing and shouting sadistic messages of hurting himself over his son’s nonexistent or menial insolence. He snapped out of it when he heard his father’s deranged-accusatory voice. “You made him do this, didn't you? I always knew you were trouble”. The elder brooks gaze was fixated on Valentina. “You turned my son against me, he's all I have left you witch.” Troy shot up out of his seat like a bullet, glaring directly at his father, teeth bared like a rabid animal. “Don’t you dare talk to my wife like that.” The senior Brooks lunged at the pregnant woman prepared to fight her for his son. But he never reached her. Troy leaped on his father as glasses and dishes flew across the dining room. “Valentina, go upstairs,” Troy yelled as he wrestled his angered father on the floor. She ran up the steps without question, still clutching her stomach fearing for the unborn child. The younger Troy dragged his father out of the house like a screaming child.  He watched as vases were kicked and tables were knocked because of his father’s temper tantrum. "Get out of my house and don’t you dare come back”, Troy yelled. His father looked defeated and deserted, walking out and slamming the door behind him. Troy acted promptly, going to his phone and blocking his father so he wouldn’t receive harassing messages, voice mails or phone calls from the man any longer. The night was over, he stood up to his father but he felt awkward. Though he was angry, his fathers toxic talons were still sunken into him. He debated with himself if he should at least let him stay the evening in the basement. But he figured that wouldn’t solidify his stance on what he just told his father. He cleaned up the living room, dining room and kitchen and decided to go to bed. He hugged his wife and sincerely and tearfully apologized and they both went to bed, embracing each other. 

The next week Troy got a call at work from a number he didn’t recognize. He didn’t pick it up for fear it was his father trying to contact him. When he drove home after finishing the day not even ten minutes went by before he heard a knock on the door. He peered through the windows and saw police outside waiting for someone to open up. The first cop said, “Are you Troy Brooks?” Troy looked confused but still answered, “Yes officer I am.” We regret to inform you that your father was killed two days ago in a bar fight. Paramedics tried to rush him as quickly as possible to the hospital but he didn’t make it. We are sorry for your loss.” Troy had no idea how to take this information he just replied, “Thank you officers for telling me.” Valentina eventually learned the news when she came home as well, her husband informing her of the visit from the police. The events after were a blur. Was Troy relieved? Was he saddened, or was he indifferent? He didn’t know. The funeral was rather small and quaint, Truman didn’t have many friends or acquaintances who held him in high esteem. Even his then girlfriend was absent from the service. Troy’s imagination could only muster so many reasons and scenarios of why she never appeared. The one he thought of as most accurate, was she had found herself deeply loving and equally despising the same man. A man that was complicated and flawed in so many ways, you can’t help but be totally infatuated with him. 

The time had come for Valentina to give birth, The couple rushed to the hospital and she immediately went into labor. The minutes and seconds felt like hours and the hours felt like days. Eventually the cries of life filled the room. A tear strolled down the face of Troy. His emotions came back to him the second he saw his newborn daughter crying once being born. The family was together and came to the conclusion to name their daughter Genesis. A fitting name to describe her father’s new found identity. Though tragic, the chains of his father have been broken from the wrists of the boy who became a man. His daughter provided him with a rebirth, a sense of duty and discovery to make sure his daughter got the absolute best of him, and teach her life’s most valuable lesson that the greatest love is to love yourself. And as her father, he will never hate her for doing just that.