We have a lot of work to do socially to make a better world of men and fathers.
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A Father’s Betrayal
by Veronica Vargas
I hate my father’s choices.
I can’t wrap my mind around why he doesn’t care.
Beer before his children.
He’s consumed by it; it’s who he is.
“I was born an alcoholic, an alcoholic I will die,” he says.
It’s engraved in my mind.
That drunk man who replaced my father.
His words slur, his eyes are bloodshot.
He’s sitting in the dark, exhausted from the fight he had with my mom.
He calls for me.
“Vero ven.” (“Vero, come.”)
“Que quieres?” (“What do you want?”) , tears of anger burn my cheeks.
“Ya no me quieres?” (“You don’t love me anymore?”)
“Ya me canse, ya no lo puedo hacer. Tu hijo ya tiene miedo que te van ha encontrar en la calle, muerto!”
(I’m tired, I can’t do this. Your own son is afraid they’ll find you dead in the streets.”)
He laughs.
I can smell the beer from where I stand.
I kneel at his feet.
My voice cracking.
I manage to get these words out.
“Ya basta, por favor déjà de tomar!” (“Just stop, please stop drinking!”)
Silence so heavy it weighs me down, fills the room.
Until I hear him chuckle.
And within a blink of an eye, I had no father.
He became just a person, one who left a daughter, confused. Alone.
I don’t get it.
I was daddy’s little girl.
Now I’m exhausted from fighting for him to change.
I give up.
Beer has possessed him.
While resentment and hurt have taken over my thoughts.
“I still love you,” he says over the phone.
Then prove it, I repeat in my head.
Please.
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