Iam standing on my dad’s doorstep. It’s 20 years since he called me a retard. I haven’t seen much of him since then. He told me I’d never work, never live on my own, never have a relationship. I came on the bus from the flat where I live alone. I’ve got an ex-girlfriend standing next to me for moral support. I haven’t told my dad I’m coming.
He opens the door. He smells of booze. He looks at me, confused.