Joana
"Daniel said you hit him." I dropped my jacket on the cushion adjacent to the bed and looked at Desmond who for some reason placed an ice bag on his fingers. I exhaled and dropped onto the bed, waiting for him to speak up.
"What happened?" I added.
"He was being disrespectful." He grunts and lifts his eyes to meet mine. "And I had to correct him. By the way, I only slapped him, it's not like I whooped his ass with a belt."
My shoulders drooped. Getting a father and a son to be friends again was more work than I imagined. "A hit is hit, Desmond, whether you slapped him or whooped his ass. It's still a hit and you know you should try to get into your son's favorite book again."
"Not when he's being all rude to his father. I need to correct him." He said with a straight face.