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On Monday, I sent her flowers with a note that says, “Hope you’re having a good day. Finish the book.”

Tuesday, we talked for two hours on the phone after she got home from work. We made plans to see each other on Thursday.

Today, Wednesday, I’m at my parents’ place for dinner at my mother’s insistence. I’m eating salmon and an amazing rice pilaf when Mother asks, “So, how are things going with Ms. Autumn?”

“It’s going good.”

“I’ve seen her car over at your place a few more times, I didn’t want to intrude like I did the first time,” she says waggling her brows.

I find it comical, yet highly disturbing but at least she takes an interest in my life.

My father has nothing to say apparently.

He’s just sitting there eating like he’s in his own world – like a teenager would who was pissed off at his parents and refused sustenance.

That’s his vibe. It’s obvious that he’s tuning us out.

“Well, I don’t see it being an issue being that you two are best friends now,” I tell her.

“She’s such a nice woman. And she’s completely gorgeous. I was telling your father that he has to meet her.”

“And I told you I wasn’t interested.”

“Dear—” Mom says, trying to intercept his bad attitude.

“What? I’m not meeting this girl who ain’t gon’ be around no more than five seconds.” He stuffs his mouth with a helping of rice.

“Oh, don’t be like that, dear,” Mom says, being the fence between us.

I wasn’t going to say anything to him, but I got time today. “How do you know what I want, Father? You don’t talk to me but for two minutes a day, and that’s just to tell me when I’m doing something wrong.”

“Look—I’ma enjoy my dinner,” he says. “Just talk amongst yourselves.”

I tsk at his nonchalance and say, “This is the kindhearted man you said I take after, Ma?”

I know my father is a kindhearted man. He just hasn’t been that way toward me in some time.

It saddens me because I look up to him. He was my hero.

No, he is my hero. My father is the kind of man who would actually give someone the shirt off his back.

He taught me to love and respect people.

He also taught me to work hard and conquer the world.

The fact that I’ve failed at the second part has greatly impacted our relationship.

“Judah—”

“Don’t say nothing to him, Dear,” my father says to my mother. “I don’t need you to burden yourself.”

“I’m not burdening myself. I just want you two to get along.”

“We get along to the extent that we need to,” he says.

“Really?” I ask. “How is that when you don’t even talk to me? You see me coming and you walk away. How do you think that makes me feel?”

“How do you think it makes me feel that my son, my only child’s only aspiration in life is to bag groceries and hang out in the woods with hippies?”

“That’s not my—”

“Then what is? It sure as heck ain’t that degree me and your mom paid for!”

“Presly—”

“No, I’m done being quiet, Adrienne. He wants to hear me talk, here we go.

You live like your life is over. Like you’re just passing time, waiting to die.

Don’t think for a second that I’m going to subscribe to this behavior any longer because I have had it!

I’m done! Go find another job if you really want to work because you’re no longer an employee of mine!

I’m giving that position to who it really belongs to—a sixteen-year-old still in high school who lives with his parents and wants to make some extra money on the side.

Not you! Not a thirty-one-year-old grown man who has a degree in economics.

It was never meant for you! My God! You—”

He pauses, takes a breath and is really huffing like he’s on the verge of a breakdown.

He continues, “You can live off the money your grandparents left you. You can’t take it with you, right?

You may as well spend it. If you gon’ live like you’re dying, do something worthwhile at least to say you actually accomplished something, but languishing around here like a bum isn’t it.

Until you show me the son I raised, you can leave your pity party at your own house. You are no longer welcome in my home!”

“Presly, stop!” Mother yells with tears in her eyes and despair in her voice.

“No, I won’t stop because somebody needs to tell him like it is. You coddle that boy, Adrienne. That’s why he’s the way he is now.”

I wipe my mouth with a napkin and quietly push away from the table.

“Judah, don’t leave,” Mom says. “Y’all need to work this out. Come on now. This is not how a family is supposed to behave.”

“It’s all good, Ma. I’m out. And he’s right. I shouldn’t be working at the store. I’ll continue being the nobody he thinks I am since I’m so good at it.”

I walk home feeling lower than I’ve felt in a while.

There’s always a low part to me that I keep hidden, but when true depression sets in, anyone looking at me can tell something’s off.

Right now, I’m off, and I don’t know when I’ll get back on.

What I do know is, he’s right. I live how I live because I know that as soon as my life gets to the point where I want it – as soon as I accomplish my wildest dreams – it’s going to all come to an end.

That’s how life happens. It makes you feel like you’re on top of the world one minute and then, bam!

—it all comes crashing down and you didn’t even see it coming. Just like this evening…

A dinner that started off promising ended up with me getting into it with my father. Life is unpredictable like that. As soon as you think you have it figured out, it shows you that you don’t know a thing.