I Don’t Want to Yell, I Say

“I don’t want to yell.”

I take a deep breath and look into his eyes. They are blue, bright blue, and red, bloodshot red, from the crying.

“It’s just that…”

…are you apologizing or not?
…yes, but I want to explain
…he knows why you’re mad. He wants you to stop.
…then he should stop doing things that make me mad!
…he wants to see how far he can push you, whether you’ll still love him, whether you’ll lose control.
…obviously!
…so who cares why you’re mad? It’s irrelevant.
…I have to explain myself. I have to explain why!
…no you don’t. You don’t. He is not an adult. He is a child. The information he needs is simple. He doesn’t need to know any of this. You talk too much. You think too much. You talk about what you think and think about what you say, too much.

“I’m sorry.
I know you’re scared.
I will try to yell less.
I love you.”

He smiles.
“OK.”

We start again.