I Turned My Phone On This Morning To A Series Of Fucked Up Texts From My Roommate
I kept knocking on his door, but it was locked and he wasn’t replying. But he doesn’t usually lock his bedroom door when he leaves…
I kept knocking on his door, but it was locked and he wasn’t replying. But he doesn’t usually lock his bedroom door when he leaves…
That excitement is what helped me to skip over all of the disclaimers in the contract that Dr. Phelps put before me. Since that day, I’ve re-read the contract a hundred times, sick at the thought of what I overlooked.
When Caden’s teacher asked me to come in for a parent-teacher conference, I figured she was going to sing his praises as a self-reliant, good kid. But instead, she just gestured for me to sit in a tiny, plastic chair and proceeded to lay a spiral notebook on the desk in front of me, without saying a word.
The realization was like a knife in my chest. We used to always get into mysteries with each other when we were younger. If I was there, I would absolutely have gone with them. But then what?
I felt like I had this reasonable parenting thing down…until I saw what was on his browser history. Then I lost it.
I won’t blame you if you think this is fiction.
“Daddy likes to drink,” she tells her doll. “And I like to pour him drinks.”
They told me I had a hernia at first.