" He finally left.”

It took you an hour.

After you’re gone, my mom says, “I’m proud of you. I know that must’ve been tough.”

“I’m surprised the son of a bitch respected her wishes,” my dad says. “He never respected mine when I told him to stay away from my daughter.”

“Michael,” my mom warns. “Now’s not the time.”

He holds his hands up.

“I’m not surprised he listened,” she continues. “He’s a good guy.”

My dad lets out a loud laugh.

“He is,” my mom says. “He’s just an addict, and your daughter was his first high. That boy would’ve run right into traffic if she said she needed him to.”

My dad looks at me. “I’ll pay you fifty bucks to do it.”

“Michael!”

“Geez, okay, don’t bite my head off, woman,” he says, squeezing my shoulder as he says, “I’ll throw in some free babysitting, too.”

My mom laughs. “You’ll be babysitting for free as it is, Gramps.”

He makes a face, mumbling, “Gonna need a better nickname. "

― J.M. Darhower , Ghosted