I grew up in a small town, life was good for the most part, yeah I was bullied at school, and my Dad was never really a part of my life growing up. After he and Mom split up he got into drinking a lot after work. He would sit up for hours after work and drink the night away, I would make sure he had dinner on the table so he ate, but he had a beer in front of him while I put the food in front of him.
I made it my mission to look after my Dad, I cooked I cleaned I changed his bed, I washed his clothes, I made his meals and I made sure he was tucked in bed on nights he did not make it to bed on his own. I loved this man more than he could ever know or acknowledge.
He never really made eye contact with me ever, he scanned me more than looked at me, we had passing conversations, where he ordered me to get something done now. Never a one on one conversation with each other, when I turned eighteen he watched me as I made dinner, or served it up. We ate together and he looked more closely at me now, like he was allowed to look at me.
It was a week after my birthday that I woke at about two in the morning he was standing in my doorway, the hall light flooding into my room. I woke and he was leering at me now, he leaned against the doorway, he clearly was drunk. I got up and walked him to his room, I only had on a pair of boxers, my cock flopped around as I walked him to his room.
I got him in bed and took his work shirt off and left him his wife beater, I unbuckled his belt and got his pants off, his cock was rock hard and dripping, I pulled off his socks and got him under the covers. He stared at me till he passed out, I ran my hand over the side of his face, I loved my Dad I just wished he cared for me a little bit, or took an interest. He was up early and I always got up to make him breakfast coffee and a lunch for work.
When he came to get his lunch he stood beside me for a brief moment and I almost thought he might thank me for making his lunch, putting him to bed, but he turned and walked out. I loved my Dad but I was tired of him avoiding me, treating me like I was an alien of sorts, he needed to be nicer to me or I was moving out.
I planned to talk to him on Friday night, if he was not nicer to me I was leaving, Mom wanted me to move in with her and her new man. Her new man was such a nice guy, he treated her like a man should treat his girlfriend, not the way my Dad had treated her and myself for years. Friday he was the same when he got up, I made him breakfast and then his lunch, I walked out and went to get in the shower.
I was not waiting for him to maybe thank me or at least say have a good day, he grabbed his lunch and went to work. He came home with his usual case of beer and he put it in the fridge in the garage, he came in with a few and put them in the fridge, he sat at the table and popped open his first of many for that night I am sure.
I was busy getting dinner ready, I wanted to talk to the man while he was still coherent, while he still made sense, I just was not sure how to start this conversation. He was one of the hardest people to talk too, he had this wall built around him and he never opened up to anyone. I was almost done getting dinner ready when I turned and told him that we needed to talk.
He gave me this look like, We needed to talk? What to fuck was this attitude, I stood at the counter leaned back, arms folded I was mad, I told him if things between us didn't change then I was moving in with Mom. The drinking all night every night and now me having to put him to bed, basically being his housewife, making his meals, cooking cleaning, doing laundry, and working full time I had had enough.
He smiled at me like I owed him for all the years he provided for me.
"You want to move in with your mother then move in with her, get out! fuck off! leave me here alone, you all leave me anyways."
