My Life, chapter 7
It had been several days since the night my father and I spent at Johnny's, we were back on the road the morning after and have been on it ever since stopping only to sleep, eat, shit, and piss. We were getting pretty far from home, the last sign I saw read "Welcome To Brigham City, Utah." I wasn't getting tired of life on the road, but I was beginning to miss my mom, brother and friends. I was also wondering how in god's name I was going to make up all my missed work from school. Oh well, school is a bunch of bullshit anyway.
My father had created a type of game, a game that would keep us from getting bored while on the road and that would help us to get to know each other better. The rules of the game were: the first person would ask the other person a question, the other person had to answer truthfully, and completely and vice versa, also the person who asked the question couldn't interrupt the one answering the question, they also were not allowed to defend themselves; they had to accept the other person's answer. The game started off with stupid questions like favorite colors, ice cream flavors, and thoughts about President George Bush. A couple hours later we both started asking some nail-bitting questions, like what we thought of each other.
"So, what do you think of me, Joey?" He asked anxiously, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to know. I wasn't sure if he wanted to know either. Although things between my dad and I seemed to be looking up, there were many things about him that truly angered me still. Like the way he treated my mom. I sighed long and loud, god, I know I am going to hurt his feelings.
"I have mixed emotions I guess you could say. I love you, you know that I suppose, but I don't know. You say so many terrible things, about mom and even sometimes right to her. You say them in your songs, interviews, right to her face. You treat her like she doesn't deserve you or something. You know she loves you, she does everything for you. In "The Grouch" you call her a nag, in one interview I read that you said you weren't happy after somebody asked you if you were happy between your wife, mom, and new baby, me. In other interviews I've heard you say that you wish she would just fuck off sometimes with me and Jake. And then there was that time when you left us for like a month just to find out what to write about for the American Idiot album. You just act like you can't stand us all, especially mom, sometimes." I stared out the window shield pretending to be interested in the car in front of us. I had just told my father that he was practically an asshole, I was screwed. He's gonna hate me, I thought. He'll never talk to me again.
"Your turn," he said softly. I felt terrible, but hey, this was all about getting to know each other and breaking through to build a true and honest father-son relationship.
"Okay, you know you have to be totally honest, what is more important to you, mom, Jake and me, or your career, Green Day?" I asked. Now I was scared to know the answer. It was a couple minutes before he said anything.
"I don't want to play this game anymore," he said simply and turned on the radio. I turned my head to look at him shocked, what the fuck?! Did he really care about his career more than us, his family? At that point I wanted to just slap him as hard as possible with all my strength, the only thing holding me back was if I hit him he may lose control of the car and I could die. I didn't speak to my father for hours and he didn't say anything to me. I guess we are just back where we started.
My father had created a type of game, a game that would keep us from getting bored while on the road and that would help us to get to know each other better. The rules of the game were: the first person would ask the other person a question, the other person had to answer truthfully, and completely and vice versa, also the person who asked the question couldn't interrupt the one answering the question, they also were not allowed to defend themselves; they had to accept the other person's answer. The game started off with stupid questions like favorite colors, ice cream flavors, and thoughts about President George Bush. A couple hours later we both started asking some nail-bitting questions, like what we thought of each other.
"So, what do you think of me, Joey?" He asked anxiously, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to know. I wasn't sure if he wanted to know either. Although things between my dad and I seemed to be looking up, there were many things about him that truly angered me still. Like the way he treated my mom. I sighed long and loud, god, I know I am going to hurt his feelings.
"I have mixed emotions I guess you could say. I love you, you know that I suppose, but I don't know. You say so many terrible things, about mom and even sometimes right to her. You say them in your songs, interviews, right to her face. You treat her like she doesn't deserve you or something. You know she loves you, she does everything for you. In "The Grouch" you call her a nag, in one interview I read that you said you weren't happy after somebody asked you if you were happy between your wife, mom, and new baby, me. In other interviews I've heard you say that you wish she would just fuck off sometimes with me and Jake. And then there was that time when you left us for like a month just to find out what to write about for the American Idiot album. You just act like you can't stand us all, especially mom, sometimes." I stared out the window shield pretending to be interested in the car in front of us. I had just told my father that he was practically an asshole, I was screwed. He's gonna hate me, I thought. He'll never talk to me again.
"Your turn," he said softly. I felt terrible, but hey, this was all about getting to know each other and breaking through to build a true and honest father-son relationship.
"Okay, you know you have to be totally honest, what is more important to you, mom, Jake and me, or your career, Green Day?" I asked. Now I was scared to know the answer. It was a couple minutes before he said anything.
"I don't want to play this game anymore," he said simply and turned on the radio. I turned my head to look at him shocked, what the fuck?! Did he really care about his career more than us, his family? At that point I wanted to just slap him as hard as possible with all my strength, the only thing holding me back was if I hit him he may lose control of the car and I could die. I didn't speak to my father for hours and he didn't say anything to me. I guess we are just back where we started.
