I stop the tape, walk away,
shout that I’m going out.
Footsteps follow me to the door.
Not Dad.
Not Mom.
James comes from around the corner.
His silver eyebrow ring. His blue-black hair.
He tells me he heard our session,
that I’ve upset Dad.
That I need to let people in. They need me.
I should try to be there more for my family.
My insides burn.
I say
Why do they need me
when you’re doing a great job for all of us?
He’s not done talking,
but I shut the door in his punk rock face.