“Why can’t you, just once, get off your lazy ass, go down there and see him? This is my brother, your son and not once have you left the house or even as much sent a card or letter telling him that you are thinking of him, and that you do care and aren’t a completely heartless bastard.”
With that, I walked out the door, slamming it hard behind me, hearing the doorframe scream in protest. My brother had been in hospital for seven weeks after a near fatal car accident and I was angry; angry at the other driver for ignoring the red light; angry at my brother for drink driving; angry at my father for his ignorance and stubborn ways; angry at myself for not staying with my brother longer at the party so I could have taken him home.
I arrived at the hospital, still very worked up and my brother asked me what was bothering me. I told him that I had another fight with Dad and what it was about.
“What are you talking about – Dad rings me twice a day…”