I was overcome by white-hot wrath.
"f*ck you," I shouted. "Ever since I could remember, you've been pushing me around, cutting me down, intimidating me with your anger, browbeating me with you moronic Calvinistic values. And you're still doing it. Right now."
By this time we had stopped on the sidewalk and were facing each other; the tourists were starting to stare -- but I didn't give a damn.
"So listen up, you bombastic prick," I shouted. "I've spent my whole life terrified of your disapproval, trying to live up to your impossible standards, and I'm fed up with it. I don't give a damn if we end up best friends or if we never speak again, but I will not stand for this condescending bullshit ever again. Not one more time. It ends. Now!"
After a couple more violent interchanges, you started to walk away. Then you turned and stood firmly in the middle ofWater Street. In a voice that drew a line in the concrete, you shouted, "You're never going to push me around again. Never!" With that, you walked away, leaving me on the sidewalk -- stunned.
How had we come to this?
Had I lost my son?
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