The first five years were good. The next four were with continuously increasing amounts of life support and, for the second time in four months, I was looking for somewhere to sleep.
I had twenty years of working hard at being nothing like my dad. I had to succeed at marriage; He was on his fifth.
It was late; too late to find a couch. I tried to sleep in the backseat. I was tired and cold. I let my guard down and a rational thought snuck in.
I was not repeating my father’s behaviour.
Later, when the sun had been up for a while, I went back to pack my bags.