He asked me to draw him something once.
He only asked one time, because after that he decided it was high time to disappear out of my life again.
I remember it: he was crying and asking me to forgive him, because he was supposed to be my uncle, he was supposed to be there for me, and he wasn't.
I cried and said I forgave him, and I really did. It was only a few months ago, but it feels like years have gone by.
Grandma had shown him all my drawings; she was the one who bought me my first sketchbook and she was always the one who was the proudest of me.
He teared up again and said, "Can you draw me something? Anything. Anything at all. It can be a big 'fuck you' if you want it to be. I just want something-- anything-- that you made. Please?"
And I agreed. I said I would draw him something.
I didn't, but it didn't matter anyway, because he didn't show up again. I haven't seen him since.
So he doesn't even get a 'fuck you.' He gets to stay out of my goddamn life once and for all.