“Fuck,” she screamed as she realized what she had said. He rushed after him and said, holding him as he struggled to release his hand, “Honey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that! Jeff, are you listening to me Jeff?”
He wrestled his arm free. “I don’t want to. That’s enough, okay? I’ve had enough of it,” he yelled at her. “I want to end it all! It was a big mistake trying to contact you! I must be bonkers to have thought that talking to you would help. Just look at the state of you! You look like you came out of a gutter, you look like shit, you are homeless and you stink.”
“But Jeff, why don’t you give me one other chance, please, Jeff…”
“I’m done, please release my hand,” he interrupted her icely. She let go. He turned his back and walked away. Blurred eyes that focused somewhere far away than the retreating back she was staring at, she reflected upon her life, wondering how, from a wife and a mother, she was reduced to a surrogate mother. Then she knew. His father certainly knew how to pull strings.
The World Past Me 