2005 Ford 500

I can’t say which song was rattling my speakers at level 35.

If I had to guess, it was “you don’t own me” SAYGRACE ft. G-Eazy

I was driving in the brand new-to-me car that I had bought myself at 17.

I was on my way to dinner with my father, we hadn’t spoken for a year.

usually we stopped talking because he was trying to control me,

when I needed a new phone I worked at the worst job in my small town rather than be on his plan,

I kid you not we stopped talking because he refused to drop me off “at that place”.

when I turned 15 everything became about him buying me a car,

the guilt trips, the comments about my body, my entire existence held over my head.

the body shaming has never stopped, still at 22,

every phone call (once he stops talking about himself)

“are you still working out?”

once he told me he would pay for my health insurance if I lost weight (but right now I was a risk).

on my 16th birthday he gave me 6 months of insurance coverage to drive his car.

I guess I wasn’t good enough

I blacked out at my birthday party he let me have at his house,

we stopped talking shortly after that.

we sat down at dinner to catch up,

I ordered a salad, he ordered vodka,

I updated him on my life, my new goals.

the conversation kept getting turned around to how if I started coming over again he would match my down payment on a car,

it was before Easter, we only reconnected right before it was his year to have my sisters and I for a holiday.

“if you make me look good, maybe I can help you”

I told him I could come to Easter, that I could actually drive my sisters so he wouldn’t have to pick us up,

“in my new car.”

(this was still not the final time we stopped talking)