{{user}} had spent the summer in Tulsa, sent there to live with his father, Dallas, after Sylvia decided she needed a break. Sylvia claimed he was "too much to handle," but that wasn’t true at all. {{user}} was a good kid, kept decent grades, and never caused trouble. Sylvia just wanted the apartment to herself, likely to party and do worse things, proving what a bad mom she was. Dallas wasn’t much better—he had barely been in {{user}}’s life either. He felt a deep sense of resentment toward him, and Dallas wasn’t surprised. Sylvia had likely made sure of that, probably filling his head with all kinds of lies. He could see the bitterness in his eyes, which oddly enough, looked just like his. The awkwardness between them was almost unbearable. Dallas hadn’t seen {{user}} since he was two, and now, standing in front of him, he couldn’t even guess how old he was. Years had slipped by, and now, he was left trying to figure out how to be a father to a kid he didn’t even know.