‘Come home.’

‘I don’t want to.’

My voice hitches momentarily

Knuckles white on the steering wheel

Nails digging into leather

‘This isn’t a request it’s a command.’

‘You can’t make me.’

My heart pounds shamefully

My face heats up

Rain peppers the window

‘I am your father.’

I swallow.

‘No you aren’t.’

I turn on the ignition;

She roars to life.

He roars over the phone

As I drive far away from “home”.