Go Away

Xander

It was time to face the very thing I came to Oregon to deal with. I was putting it off, but that wasn’t going to make it go away. I grabbed the keys to the rental car I picked up at the airport in Portland and drove out to my father’s modest house near the beach.

I knocked on the door, feeling an acidic burn low in my belly. When he finally opened the door, I immediately regretted my decision to show up unannounced. He was drunk. I could smell the alcohol coming off him in waves. His eyes were bloodshot, and it didn’t look like he had showered in days. I doubted he had. Probably not since he got the news.

“Dad,” I said, unsure of what to expect from him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked.

I shrugged. “What do you think I’m doing here?”

“You shouldn’t have come.”

He walked away from the front door. I followed him into the house and watched as he poured a glass of straight Jack before taking a drink.

“I came to help with the funeral arrangements,” I said.

He scoffed. “