Dylan sat scowling in his father’s office. He had never been this grouchy before after falling asleep at his father’s work. It had taken a lot of the teen’s self control to keep from snapping at Mrs. Wharton. The older woman had looked a little afraid of touching him and Dylan guessed he had a very evil looking morning face.
He happily directed that glare at his father, who still had not acknowledged his son inside the office. Not like Dylan was terribly surprised. Dr. Jones cared more about work than he did about his own child. Of course, Dylan was also a little glad that his father was not looking at him. The man’s unfeeling stare always made the teen uncomfortable.
“Well, that was a nice visit,” Dylan finally snapped after another ten minutes of silence. “I’ll be going. And since all this travel is a hassle and I’ll probably have practice or games, I’m going to not come next month. Thanks for understanding.”
He almost made it out the door.
“Stop right there,” Dr. Jones said. “Shut the door and look at me.”
Dylan did not want to, but he did not dare to disobey either. He vented his frustration by slamming the door and slowly turned around, looking at his father’s desk rather than the man himself. The ticking clock seemed like overkill as Dylan waited for his reprimand on disrespect so he could get out of there.
“I said, look at me, boy.”
At that, Dylan did his best to glare at his father. Boy? Sometimes he wondered if his father even remembered his name. He could not even remember when Dr. Jones had last used his son’s name. It was always boy, brat, delinquent, or some other such variation.
He was trying his best to feel defiant, his irritation was certainly growing, but Dylan could not snuff out the nervousness he felt with looking at his father’s emotionless blue eyes. There was no care or concern in those eyes. Dylan would have even taken hate, but the cold indifference was unnerving.
“You are coming back next month,” his father said flatly.
“Why?” Dylan spat out, surprising himself. In the past he would always nod just to get himself out of there sooner. Now that he had answered back, Dylan decided to keep going. “You don’t care to see me and we only ever have about a five minute conversation which involves arranging the next visit. I’m not visiting you again. It’s pointless and a waste of both our times. And don’t start acting like you care either.”
His father did not. The man just stared at his son like he would regard someone else’s two year old throwing a temper tantrum. The exhilaration of yelling at his father for the first time in his life still could not remove the fear he had for the man.
Slowly, deliberately, Dr. Jones stood up from behind his desk and walked around to his son. Dylan instinctively took a step back into the door. His father never touched him, but that still did not remove fear that gnawed in the back of his mind. His whole body was tense, but his mind felt blank. His father had never done anything like this before.
Dr. Jones carefully placed one had against the closed door, near his son’s head. The man grinned, something that was completely out of place on that emotionless face. The smile was not even one of humor, but more like smug satisfaction. Dylan had to fight back the urge to actually push his father away. Doing something like that would only make matters worse.
“Lawsuit would be the least of concerns if the rules of visitation rights aren’t upheld,” the man said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dylan’s voice was no where near as confident as he wanted it to be.
“You’re still a minor,” came the reply. “Even if you break the law, you aren’t the only one who will pay for it.”
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