The drive home was a train wreck. Ritchie had expected simple silence, but of course his father the peace-maker had to break it.
“Are you angry with me?” he asked. Ritchie looked at him incredulously. He didn’t answer the question but his angry disposition showed what he was thinking.
“Please try to understand me, Ritchie. I just want to help-”
“By sending me to a fucking institution!?” Ritchie flared up.
“Watch your mouth! And it’s not an institution! It’s a -”
“Rehabilitation center for troubled youth, yeah, yeah, i know.”
“Ritchie, just listen to me for a second. I made my decision to send you there because i care, i don’t think you’re in you’re right mind. You need help Ritchie,” Robert attempted to place his hand on his son’s shoulder comfortingly but Ritchie shoved it away. “I just want to help you Ritchie.” he said returning both hands to the wheel. “I love you.”
“You sure have a great way of showing it.” Ritchie retorted. Robert started to say something back, but stopped. Everything had been said.