Well -- yeah, that's why I'm pissed off. Because she shouldn't have ever made it your business how much like my father I am. She never even made Dad my fucking business, and Lord knows she had enough time to do that, but she'll talk about it with you? Like -- right, okay. Bare with me here. Let's do a little hypothetical thinking.
[ Because Caesar wanted to talk, because Caesar insisted on stepping over boundaries and making himself welcome where he wasn't -- he doubts that he has the self-awareness to understand what he's about to do, but it's all that he has to try and get him to understand. He straightens himself up and takes a breath. ]
Your dad --
[ His hands come down in the air before him decisively, two flat and bordering palms to mark Your Dad's position, ]
-- let's say after all of these years, he just shows up again. Not saying he will, not saying he would. Let's just say we opened the door one day and he was there, just -- "Hey, son, I'm not dead, I just fucked off for awhile!" [ Down-pitched voice and open-palmed wave included in this impression of Your Dad. He glances over to mark the breaking of this impression and turns his palms up, a request for understanding, ] Right? He just turns up after leaving you to think that for all of that time like it's nothing. Like suddenly now he belongs here. No apology, no explanation -
[ Palms closing, both pointer fingers pointing back to indicate the secondary antagonist of this story, ]
And then he meets me. And suddenly, we're talking all the time while he ices you out. He laughs at all of my stupid jokes that you hate, and actually, he thinks I'm just hilarious. He thinks I'm a fucking gas. When I'm not around, he's talking to you about me some more, just to really salt the wound. And we go out and we do shit while you're left wondering to yourself what it is we talk about all the time that you can't be around. And when I'm not hanging out with your dad, I'm sat over here, telling you why it's fine that he did what he did to you by telling you all of these things that he's told me about it. [ His hands are spinning around themselves now, indicating the passage of time and too many conversations, ] About you, about your family, but he's kept them from you, because he won't talk to you, because you don't know why.
[ He lets the situation sit for a second - but only a literal second, because Caesar's father is a hot enough topic that he's got to move quickly. It's boiling milk. If he lets it sit too long, it'll scald. ]
You're telling me right now that that wouldn't get to you? Hearing that from me and not him would just fix everything -- that'd be good enough? You wouldn't consider that reason to be upset?
no subject
[ Because Caesar wanted to talk, because Caesar insisted on stepping over boundaries and making himself welcome where he wasn't -- he doubts that he has the self-awareness to understand what he's about to do, but it's all that he has to try and get him to understand. He straightens himself up and takes a breath. ]
Your dad --
[ His hands come down in the air before him decisively, two flat and bordering palms to mark Your Dad's position, ]
-- let's say after all of these years, he just shows up again. Not saying he will, not saying he would. Let's just say we opened the door one day and he was there, just -- "Hey, son, I'm not dead, I just fucked off for awhile!" [ Down-pitched voice and open-palmed wave included in this impression of Your Dad. He glances over to mark the breaking of this impression and turns his palms up, a request for understanding, ] Right? He just turns up after leaving you to think that for all of that time like it's nothing. Like suddenly now he belongs here. No apology, no explanation -
[ Palms closing, both pointer fingers pointing back to indicate the secondary antagonist of this story, ]
And then he meets me. And suddenly, we're talking all the time while he ices you out. He laughs at all of my stupid jokes that you hate, and actually, he thinks I'm just hilarious. He thinks I'm a fucking gas. When I'm not around, he's talking to you about me some more, just to really salt the wound. And we go out and we do shit while you're left wondering to yourself what it is we talk about all the time that you can't be around. And when I'm not hanging out with your dad, I'm sat over here, telling you why it's fine that he did what he did to you by telling you all of these things that he's told me about it. [ His hands are spinning around themselves now, indicating the passage of time and too many conversations, ] About you, about your family, but he's kept them from you, because he won't talk to you, because you don't know why.
[ He lets the situation sit for a second - but only a literal second, because Caesar's father is a hot enough topic that he's got to move quickly. It's boiling milk. If he lets it sit too long, it'll scald. ]
You're telling me right now that that wouldn't get to you? Hearing that from me and not him would just fix everything -- that'd be good enough? You wouldn't consider that reason to be upset?