I tried to be strong in front of Sam and my mom, but after an intense silence, I gave in to my instincts and asked Mom to come with me upstairs for the conversation. I can't be having him listen to me and my mom and talk about my asshole of a father, that might degrade my mother.
My room is dimly lit, the soft glow of the lamp casting shadows across the walls. I sit curled up on the small couch at the foot of my bed, a blanket draped over my legs, feeling a mix of apprehension and anticipation. I can sense the weight of my mother's unsaid words before she even speaks them.
"Iris," she begins, her voice steady but tinged with emotion, "there's something we need to discuss about your father."
Like you didn't already say that in front of Sam woman!
