As I entered the house, I was greeted by the cozy sight of Mom and Mr. Thompson lounging on the couch, looking like the perfect couple. Mom was lying down, resting her head on Mr. Thompson's lap, covered with a sheet, while they both watched TV. The soft glow of the screen illuminated their faces, casting a warm and intimate ambiance over the room. It was a serene scene, one that I had grown accustomed to since they got married.
But as soon as Mr. Thompson saw me enter, he gently excused himself from Mom, giving her a gentle pat on the head. "Hey, I'll be right back, hon. I need to talk to Gabriel for a minute." His voice was soft and gentle, a stark contrast to the tense exchange he had with Dad earlier.
Mom smiled lazily and nodded, not taking her eyes off the TV. "Okay, dear. Take your time." She snuggled deeper into the couch, looking comfortable and relaxed.
Mr. Thompson followed me into my room, closing the door behind us. As soon as we were alone, he let out a deep sigh and rubbed his temples, like he was trying to ward off a headache. His eyes looked tired, and his shoulders slumped in defeat.
"Hey, Gabriel, can I talk to you for a minute?" he asked, his voice softer than usual. He looked at me with a serious expression, his eyes searching for understanding.
I nodded, curious about what he wanted to say. I sat down on my bed, and he followed suit, sitting down in my desk chair.
"Listen, I wanted to apologize for earlier," he began, his words spilling out in a rush. "I know I went too far, and I'm sorry. Your dad just gets under my skin sometimes, you know? He's always showing up, always trying to be a part of your life, even though he's not really a part of our family anymore."
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his honesty. "What do you mean?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Mr. Thompson sighed again, running a hand through his hair. "I mean, he's always trying to be the hero, always trying to be the one who's right. And it pisses me off, because I'm the one who's here for you, who's taking care of you and your mom. I'm the one who's providing for this family, who's giving you a stable home life."
I nodded, starting to understand where he was coming from. I had seen the tension between him and Dad before, but I had never really understood the root of it.
"But I shouldn't have taken it out on you," he continued. "You didn't deserve that. And for that, I'm truly sorry." He looked at me with sincere eyes, his expression contrite.
I accepted his apology, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. "It's okay, Mr. Thompson. I know you didn't mean it." I smiled, trying to reassure him.
He smiled back, looking relieved. "Thanks, Gabriel. That means a lot to me." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "I know I'm not your real dad, but I want you to know that I'm here for you, no matter what. I'll always be here to support you, to guide you, and to love you."
As Mr. Thompson was about to leave my room, I stopped him, my mind still racing with thoughts about the earlier incident in the changing room. "Hey, Mr. Thompson, can I talk to you about something else?" I asked, my voice hesitant, unsure of how he would react.
He turned around, a questioning look on his face, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he was trying to gauge what I was going to say. "What's up, Gabriel?" he asked, his tone neutral, but with a hint of impatience.
I took a deep breath, choosing my words carefully, trying to articulate my thoughts and feelings. "It's about what happened in the changing room earlier," I began, my voice steady. "I know you apologized for going off on Dad, but you never apologized for what you said about me."
Mr. Thompson's expression changed, his eyes flashing with a hint of defensiveness. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his tone a little sharper now, as if he was preparing himself for a confrontation.
"You praised me in front of my teammates," I continued, my voice firm, but calm. "You said I was the reason we won the game, that I was the MVP. But you forgot about everyone else's contributions. It wasn't just me who won that game."
Mr. Thompson shrugged, his shoulders barely moving, as if he was dismissing my concerns. "So what's the problem?" he asked, his tone dripping with condescension. "You deserve the praise. You played an amazing game."
I shook my head, feeling frustrated, feeling like he wasn't listening to me. "That's not the point," I said, my voice rising slightly. "The point is that you made it seem like I was the only one who mattered. You didn't even mention anyone else's name. You didn't acknowledge their hard work, their dedication, their contributions to the team."
Mr. Thompson snorted, a dismissive sound, as if he was belittling my concerns. "Oh, come on, Gabriel," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Don't be so sensitive. I was just trying to boost your confidence."
I stood up, my heart racing with emotion, feeling like I needed to stand up for myself, for my teammates. "Boost my confidence?" I repeated, my voice incredulous. "By making everyone else feel insignificant? That's not right, Mr. Thompson. And you know it."
Mr. Thompson's face turned red, his eyes flashing with anger, as if he was offended by my words. "I don't know what you're talking about, Gabriel," he said, his voice rising. "I did what I thought was best. And if you can't handle a little praise, then maybe you're not as mature as I thought you were."
Oh.... His words just struck a chord on the back of my head.