Mr. Fryman,
We regretfully ask we postpone our meeting for another week, more conflicts have arisen. We're sorry for the inconvenience.
Marty Sharp
Scale Media CEO
"God fucking damn it," Ronaldo had cursed under his breath as he read the email on his phone. He'd just gotten out of bed to take a shower for the meeting he was supposed to have that morning, and they tell him now, 2 hours before, they were cancelling again?
By now, he had half a mind to call the company, and demand they cover his hotel fees for the week. Did they think he was a rich guy or something for having a blog? He was near broke, and had he finished college like Lars or Sadie, he would have probably dealt with student loans, which would have left both himself and Peedee broke. He'd have to call Peedee, who would then have to call the airline to reschedule his flights, and he'd have to find a laundry service for his clothes before they got too dirty.
And then there was the medication. Ronaldo had packed three weeks' worth, but once he got down to a week and a half, which wasn't too far off, he'd have to call the pharmacy. He had to call for the stress medication, the prozac, the sleeping medication, figure out the costs of each of them, plus tax, and figure out the individual delivery dates of each, especially since all three, on policy, were mailed. Peedee would probably insist that he could do it, but Ronaldo was so sick of his little brother treating him like an incapable man child or something. He could take care of himself just fine.
Ronaldo dialed the number for the pharmacy he'd found in the district map, so glad he had all his bottles with him, and waited for the dial tone.
"Palm City pharmacy?"
Lars was having a horrible day, plain and simple.
First, his alarm clock didn't go off, and he ended up sleeping in an extra 45 minutes, and leaving him in a panicked rush to get himself and Ellie both ready for the day. The shower water was cold, he was down to the last bit of shampoo, and he was pretty sure one of his gauges was infected, because it was red and stinging all over.
Ellie was missing one of her shoes, and Lars spent a good seven minutes looking for it before finding it under one of his old paint rags from the night before.
They missed the bus and had to rush for the next one seven blocks away. Ellie nearly tripped, and Lars ended up hauling her like a sack of potatoes. They made the bus, but it was so crowded, Lars had to stand, while Ellie hugged onto his leg, looking nervous at so many different people.
The daycare lady was super catty to him about being late, and as much as he wanted to give her an earful, he had to get to work.
His boss yelled at him for being late, and for having scuffed shoes from running so fast on the concrete. His coworkers teased him all day until he told them to suck it.
The daycare called. Ellie got into another fight. Lars told them he couldn't pick her up right then and there, unless he wanted to really really get fired, and the person on the line seemed so miffed about it.
When he did finally pick her up, she was a cranky mess, and the daycare attendant was giving Lars the dirtiest look he'd ever seen. He responded back with a look equally so.
They missed the bus home, and had to walk the whole twenty blocks. Some guy offered Lars pot while crossing the street, and Lars wanted to ask him who the fuck did he think he was talking to, and no he did not want any, because he didn't want to violate his lease, and none of his friends smoked that shit so it wasn't as fun doing it alone, so fuck off buddy. But because Lars' personality had to remain 'child friendly' so long as his daughter was in earshot, he ignored the man, and continued carrying Ellie home, while she whined the whole time.
Lars remembered he forgot to buy food for dinner, and had to stop at a Malgreens on the walk for groceries. The line was long, slow, and the register decided that they would call in a replacement so they could break JUST as soon as Lars was at the front of the line. Ellie knocked over a display. Lars picked it up.
Ellie refused to eat her dinner. Lars sent her to her room.
His paints didn't set right the night before on one of his sketchbook pieces, so everything he'd done the night before smeared and ruined, and he'd have to do it over.
Ellie decided 10 PM sharp would be the perfect time to throw an ear-splitting screechfest of a temper tantrum, and Lars, exhausted and frustrated out of his wits, was doing everything he could to not lose it with her. He was trying hard.
But when she kicked his face with her foot for the third time in an attempt to get out of her bed, screeching and shrieking, that's when he decided it was enough.
"SHUT UP. GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP!" he roared at her, and got up, stomping out and slamming the door.
Steam evaporating from his system as his rage died down, he sank to the floor outside her room as she bawled loudly. He didn't mean to yell at her, he really didn't. He was just so done with everything.
While she cried on the other side of the door, Lars bit his knuckle gently as he tried to contain his stress, deciding all he could do now was let her cry it out. She was probably having as bad of a day as he was.
Running a hand through his hair, he decided he needed a minute, maybe three to fully diffuse before he could try to calm Ellie. He lay on the hallway floor and stared at the ceiling.
Things were bad tonight, but they could have been so much worse.
Lars panted, gripping his fist as he stared at the visible damage he had caused to the wall beside his bed and his daughter's crib. He then looked at his knuckles, and saw the powder from the plaster wall was starting to seep into the red where he had broken the skin.
Holy shit.
He had been so shocked by the damage to the wall and his fist that he had almost muted out his daughter's shrieking and wailing as she lay in her crib. Lars had been unable to quiet her and lost his temper, sending a fist at the wall.
He looked in horror at her, then his fist, then the wall again.
That wall could have easily been her.
Stepping back, he sank against the opposite wall, legs becoming jelly from the shock and horror he'd caused himself. He didn't care that Ellie was still crying. He was just so terrified of himself now.
He remembered how horrible his own father's temper was, how he'd slap him with no hesitation, shout him down to make him eat his dinner, or to shut him up if he thought Lars was 'being mouthy'. Lars didn't want to end up like him. After Lars' mother had left the family, he made no effort to talk to his father. For all he knew, his father could already be dead, and have no idea he had a grandchild. And as far as Lars was concerned, he didn't care if his father was going to die alone.
But Lars didn't want the same to happen to him. He loved Ellie, well at least, he thought he loved her, he cared enough to keep her for the last seven months, right? He didn't want to be that parent who is resented by their children. He didn't want to make the same mistakes as his father.
Lars had to admit to himself that he had a temper. And that he needed to tame it. It took a whole night of no sleep for him to accept it fully.
He was almost relieved he received no expressions of contempt or shame when he stepped into the anger management class, Ellie sat in one of his arms, looking quite disinterested.
One night, after several courses, practice diffusing from situations, and individual counseling, he felt ready to take on the worst. During another sleepless night, Lars decided to just roll with the punches. He kept her in his lap, keeping quiet as she refused to sleep, wailing and sobbing. He kept his temper down. He needed to sleep, but he needed to show himself and her that he wasn't going to be like that man he resented.
After three hours of crying her throat raw for no particular reason, the child soon quieted down, and stared at him, and he pet her tear stained cheeks, figuring the worst was over.
In response, she reached her own tiny hands up to touch his face, to grip his ears, his lower lip, his chin, anything she could grasp.
"...Thanks," he smiled, ready to drop dead from exhaustion.
Once he heard the crying dissolve into whimpers, Lars slowly got himself up, and walked into his daughter's room. She was sat up on the bed, eyes red and puffy from crying, and hiccuping. He sat by the bed, and she turned away from him, shuffling under her blankets.
"Hey."
She hid under the comforter.
"Ellie."
She curled up tight.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you," he spoke, keeping his voice quiet.
She made no other moves, so he rest his head on the edge of her mattress, "I've just been having a very bad day...I guess you were having one too. It wasn't fair of me to take it out on you."
She rolled over, looking at him, ready to cry again. She never wanted her father to yell at her ever again.
He gently pulled her into his arms, and sighed as she curled up gripping her tiny arms around his neck to cling on, sniffling and hiccuping with tiny twitches. "Tomorrow will be better, ok?"
When she made no response, he set her back in her bed, only for her to cling on tighter, "Dad. Stay," she whimpered, voice watery.
"Ok," he sighed, and let her stay in his arms until she finally dozed off, drooling on his shirt.
He kissed her goodnight, and tucked her back into her covers once he was sure she was asleep, and headed to bed himself.
Unfortunately, once he had sat on the edge of the bed, he saw the irregularly colored plaster filling in the wall from two years ago, and swallowed hard, seeing it as a reminder of how things could get much worse if he didn't keep himself tame.
He didn't get much sleep that night.
