Twisted Hate: An Enemies with Benefits Romance

I think you should do whatever you need to do to put him behind you. 
It was ironic how quickly I’d jump off a literal cliff, bridge, or plane, but
when it came to the personal moments, the ones that mattered, I was a child
standing at the edge of a pool for the first time.
Scared. Hesitant. Anticipatory. 
After another minute’s pause, I sat in my chair, opened the first envelope,
and started reading. 

---

T
HE
H
AZELBURG
C
ORRECTIONAL
F
ACILITY
’
S
VISITATION
ROOM
RESEMBLED
A
high school cafeteria more than a prison facility. A dozen white tables
scattered across the stark gray floor, and other than a handful of generic
landscape paintings, the walls were bare of decoration. Security cameras
whirred in the ceiling, silent voyeurs to the reunions playing out between
prisoners and their families.
My knee bounced with nervous tension until I closed my hand around it
and forced it to still. 
The tables were close enough I could pick up other people’s
conversations, but they were drowned out by snippets from Michael’s letters
in my mind. I’d read them so many times in the week since I opened them
that their words had seared into my brain. 
How’s your residency going? Is it anything like Grey’s Anatomy? You
used to joke about keeping a journal listing all the show’s inaccuracies once
you were a resident. If you actually have one, I’d love to see it...
I just saw Groundhog Day. Life in prison feels like that sometimes...living
the same day over and over again...
Merry Christmas. Are you doing anything for the holidays this year? I
know doctors have to work through the holidays, but hopefully you’re taking
some time off. Maybe go see the Northern Lights in Finland like you’ve
always wanted...
The letters were generic and innocuous, but they contained just enough
inside jokes and shared memories to keep me up at night. 
Reading the letters, I could almost believe Michael was a normal father
writing to his son and not a psycho bastard.
The door opened, and a man in an orange jumpsuit walked in.
Speak of the devil…
My stomach twisted.
His hair was a little grayer, his wrinkles a little more pronounced, but
otherwise, Michael Chen looked the same as he always had.
Stern. Cerebral. Solemn.
He sat across from me, and heavy silence stretched taut between us like a
rubber band on the verge of snapping. 
Prison guards watched us with hawk eyes from the edge of the room,
their heavy scrutiny a third participant in our nonexistent conversation. 
Finally, Michael spoke. “Thank you for coming.”
It was my first time hearing his voice in two years.

---

I flinched, unprepared for the nostalgia it triggered.
That was the same voice that had soothed me when I was sick,
encouraged me after I lost a basketball game, and yelled at me when I snuck
out clubbing with a fake ID in high school and got caught. 
It was my childhood—the good, the bad, and the ugly, all wrapped up in
one deep, rumbling tone.
“I didn’t come for you.” I pressed my hand harder against my thigh. 
“So why did you come?” Except for the brief shadow that crossed his
face, Michael betrayed no emotion at my unsentimental response.
“I…” My answer stuck in my throat, and Michael’s mouth curved into a
knowing smile.
“Since you’re here, I assume you’ve read my letters. You know what’s
happened with me over the years, which isn’t much.” He let out a self-
deprecating laugh. “Tell me about you. How’s work?”
It was surreal, sitting here and talking to my father like we were on a
fucking coffee date. But my brain had blanked, and I couldn’t think of
another course of action except to play along. 
“It’s fine.” 
“Josh.” Michael laughed again. “You have to give me more than that.
You’ve wanted to be a doctor since high school.”
“Residency is residency. Lots of long hours. Lots of sickness and death.”
I flashed a hard smile. “You know a lot about that.”
Michael winced. “And your love life? Are you seeing anyone?” He
skipped over my last statement. “You’re getting to that age. It’s time to settle
down and start a family soon.”
“I’m not even thirty yet.” Honestly, I didn’t know if I wanted children. If
I did, it wouldn’t be until way down the road. I needed to experience more of
the world before I settled into the white picket fence and suburban house life.
“Yes, but you have to allot a few years to dating first,” Michael reasoned.
“Unless you’re already dating someone.” His eyebrows rose when I remained
silent. “Are you dating someone?”
“No,” I lied, partly to spite him, and partly because he didn’t deserve to
know about Jules.
“Ah, well, a father can hope.”
We continued our small talk, using mundane topics such as the weather
and upcoming football season to sidestep the elephant in the room. Other than
punching him in the face, I’d never confronted him about what he did to

---

Ava. 
The knowledge sat in my stomach like a concrete block. Ignoring it felt
wrong, but I also couldn’t bring myself to shatter the light, if somewhat
forced, conversation between us.