"What are you going to do now, Dad?" Levi's question caught me off guard, his eyes searching mine for a glimpse of my inner turmoil. I knew he was curious about my emotions, wondering if I was seething with anger or if I would let this slide.
I took a deep breath, trying to choose my words carefully. "Levi, you don't need to worry about this. Everything is going to be okay." I tried to sound reassuring, but my voice came out weak and unconvincing.
Levi's expression turned from curiosity to anger, his eyes flashing with a fierce intensity. He pulled away from me, his body tense and rigid. "That's why I never wanted to tell you, Dad," he spat, his voice laced with bitterness. "You wouldn't do anything. You always let Mom have her way."
I felt a stinging sensation in my chest, Levi's words piercing my heart like a dagger. I knew he was hurt and angry, but his words cut deep, making me question my own role as a father and a husband.
"Levi, please understand—" I began, but he cut me off, his voice rising in anger.
"No, Dad, I don't want to hear it. You always say you're going to do something, but you never do. You just let Mom walk all over you, and now she's cheating on you and you're still doing nothing!"
I felt a surge of defensiveness, my own anger rising to the surface. But I knew I had to keep calm, for Levi's sake. I took a deep breath and tried to speak, but Levi wasn't having it.
"Dad, I want to be alone right now. Can you please just leave me alone?" he asked, his voice cold and distant.
I nodded, feeling a sense of defeat and helplessness. I got up from the bed and walked out of the room, leaving Levi to his anger and his pain. I knew I had to give him space, but it was hard to walk away, feeling like I had failed him in some fundamental way.
As I walked out of the room, my anger and frustration boiled over like a pot about to overflow. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms, and punched the nearest wall with all my might. The drywall cracked and crumbled under the impact, leaving a gaping hole and a trail of blood from my knuckles.
Jacob's eyes widened in shock as he stared at me, his gaze fixed on my bloody hand. He looked like he had seen a ghost, his face pale and drained of all color. His mouth hung open, but no words came out. He was frozen in place, unable to move or speak.
I didn't say a word, just kept walking away from him, away from the situation, away from the pain and anger that threatened to consume me. My feet carried me out of the house, into the dark night, without any conscious direction from my brain. The only sound was the crickets chirping and the distant hum of a car driving by. The streetlights cast long shadows across the sidewalk, making me feel like I was walking through a tunnel of darkness.
The cool night air enveloped me, a stark contrast to the fiery emotions that burned inside me. I walked blindly, not knowing where I was going, just knowing I had to keep moving. My feet carried me through the streets, past houses and cars, past people and trees, all shrouded in darkness. I didn't see any of it. My mind was a jumble of thoughts and emotions, a tangled mess of anger and sorrow.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, my legs gave out, and I collapsed onto a bench in a small park. The darkness seemed to swallow me whole, and I felt like I was drowning in my own emotions. I sat there, staring blankly into the night, trying to make sense of it all. My mind replayed the events of the past few hours, my heart heavy with sorrow and anger.
The bench creaked under my weight, and I felt a slight breeze rustle my hair, but otherwise, everything was still. I was trapped in my own personal hell, unable to escape the pain and betrayal that consumed me. The darkness seemed to closing in around me, suffocating me, and I felt like I was losing myself in its depths.
As I sat on that bench, surrounded by the darkness of night, a floodgate of memories burst open in my mind. I was transported back to my childhood, to the days when my own father was always drunk, always promising to quit, yet never following through. I remembered the countless nights he and my mother would quarrel, their raised voices piercing through the walls, making me feel scared and helpless.
I recalled the disappointment I felt in my father, the sense of betrayal that he couldn't be the role model I needed him to be. I had always craved a father who was strong, reliable, and wise, someone I could look up to and aspire to be like. But instead, I got a father who was weak, distant, and broken.
And now, as I sat on that bench, I realized that history was repeating itself. My own son, Levi, saw me in the same light that I saw my father. He was disappointed in me, felt let down by my inability to be the father he needed me to be. I had promised him that I would be there for him, that I would be a better father than my own had been, but I had failed him.
The weight of this realization crushed me. I felt like I was staring into a mirror, seeing the same flaws and shortcomings that I had despised in my own father. I had always vowed to be different, to break the cycle of dysfunction, but now I realized that I was perpetuating it instead.
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I thought about Levi, about how he must feel to see me as a failed role model. I thought about all the times I had let him down, all the promises I had made but failed to keep. I felt a deep sense of regret and sorrow, knowing that I had fallen short of being the father he deserved.
As I sat there, surrounded by the darkness, I knew that I had a choice to make. I could continue down the same path, perpetuating the cycle of dysfunction, or I could try to change, to be the father that Levi needed me to be. It was a daunting task, but I knew it was one I had to undertake, for my son's sake, and for my own.