Ultimate screaming match

 

I had the ultimate screaming match with my father last night in my dreams. It was everything I'd ever hoped it would be. Of course it was wasn't actually his face, but a representative character, Sgt. Carter from Gomer Pyle. But it was him, sure as fuck. He was all swagger and bluster, being the typical demeaning, in your face asshole that normally made people wither and accede to his demands. This time I'd had enough.

I don't know if it's from binge watching The Handmaid's Tale or what, that made me feel I needed to release a certain amount of "fuck the patriarchy" out of my belly, but it was in the midst of one of his condescending rants about nothing, and in the presence of Ivan Waxman, that I unleashed.

Face to face, inches apart, we were two uncaged tigers roaring into one another's energy fields. So intense! I felt like I said everything I'd ever wanted to say growing up in a few, short, shouted bursts. And it worked, kinda.

It happened after I uttered the words, "Why can't you just genuinely be nice for a change?"  Only it was with the drill sergeant's own authoritative tone, which made it a command, "You WILL stop being an asshole and finally, once and for all, JUST FUCKING BE NICE!" 

He deflated for a moment and took a different tack, like he was trying on a new tie to see how it would look on him. It had somehow, finally, pierced him, and he was putty for a second or two. 

I immediately felt the love for him that must have been laying dormant all these years start to well up. 

"Well, we can work on it. First, there's this...and that," I said, and we were having a conversation. 

But then I saw the cagey, sarcastic side creeping back in as he attempted to make light of the whole thing.

"Sure," he said, "And I can just be a little sweetheart ballerina for you and wear a little pink dress. Would you like that?"

I sensed it was going off the rails, but I kept my tone firm but loving and tried to make him see that it was for the best. People would like him more. The living situation would be tolerable. And there was really no alternative. I wasn't having any more of his shit and that was that. 

After that, I remember vaguely taking pictures of ocean waves with Ivan out of the picture window of the apartment we were sharing. Kind of a meaningless denouement, but the credits were needing to roll, as dreamtime was coming to a close.