It has just started to rain. Early morning, before sunrise, rain. Thunder. Lightning.
I think about hiding under my blanket but I’ve been sleeping too much. Sleeping when I’m not tired. Sleeping to avoid reality. Hide from the drama of existence.
Joey’s biological father has established contact with his son. I’ve allowed him to “friend” me on FaceBook just so I can maintain correspondence via private messenger. He’s brown nosing me coz he has figured out I am close to his boy.
He says, “I’ve always liked you. I’m glad Joey spends a lot of time with you.”
I say, “In those years you were with Joey and his mom, I don’t think I said more than ten words to you. What exactly do you like about me? What do you know about me? I don’t know if I like you. I don’t know if you can be trusted.”
That’s when he tells me he’s been off drugs “over four years.” He brags about his new family (cute wife and two little boys-judging by FaceBook photos), lives out west and works every day.
That’s when he tells me he wants to do right by his first son. He tells me he wants to do right by Joey.
That’s when I say, “Sounds good…but talk is cheap.”