Sex Contract

Even as I ran out the door with clay still clinging to my hands, I screamed in terror.

I yanked the door open in frustration. "What?" My steps came to a halt. My mouth hung open in shock.

Nelson Green, both my biological and legal father, was waiting .

He said, "Joyce,"

He took a beating. I should have shot him in the head instead of trying to talk him out of it. Instead of opening fire on him as he pounded on my door, I calmly searched for my cell phone. I found it on top of a stack of books that had been overdue for a long time.

My father immediately began banging on the door with his fists. "Joyce? Joyce!"

Stop yelling and stop talking! When the phone rang, I yelled.

Because of the phone's value, I was unable to throw it at the wall.

"Joyce, I'd like to meet with you." The thin wood separating us meant that I could barely make out my father's voice.

"Leave!" After I yelled, I returned to my carvings... My workspace and the materials I'd gathered were quickly rearranged in a flurry. I was trying to forget about my jerk of a father standing outside my door. That was more than a decade ago now that I had last seen him. The few times I saw him as a child, he was a distant figure in my life. He once thought I was the housekeeper's granddaughter. It was just as fulfilling for him to take on the role of a father.

"Joyce..."

My jaw clenched tighter. "Go! This isn't something I want to discuss!

"Your mother!?"

Isn't she doing well? Just a few days ago, we spoke. Despite her age, she appeared to be in good physical condition.

I should not have opened the door and allowed myself to be accosted. I should have known better. Setting boundaries with my family was an important piece of advice that I could not ignore.

I exhaled deeply before pushing the door open. In the middle of his pounding, my father took a breather.

He was on the mend and back to his old self. "Let's have a chat," he said.

This is a good place to have a discussion,

To my horror, he screamed .

I was shocked. The last time my father had shed a tear was when I was a child.

My nerves were frayed as I stood in the doorway, unsure of what to do. He was a scumbag, in my opinion. After all, he wasn't all that enticing. His unkempt hair and wrinkled suit made him appear disheveled. It shocked me how much he'd slimmed down, he looked ridiculous in that dress. He was a big, grizzled ex-college star athlete by the name of Nelson Green. I'd never seen anything like his bony frame before.

"Joyce. We must speak up."

Consequently, my response was "fine."

'Okay,' I said as we took our seats at long tables in a