More Marco and I

Well, things ain't getting better with Marco. After avoiding me for nearly a week--by bringing his lovely fiance Carly over daily or by showing up with Chepa and the babies--we finally talked yesterday. I asked him if he wanted to go first. He didn't. So I asked, in what I think was a regular voice, if he understood that I'd gotten angry because he'd lied to me about the stupid television box. Not once, but almost daily for 10 days. And then I'd gotten even more angry at him because he lied when he said there was no control that would work the box, and then that very box control was found on his bed.
He responded that basically I'd never asked about the box. That the box had always been in Italo's room for 5 months, and that if I'd asked about it he would have told me.
I said that didn't jibe with the fact that the box had actually always been in my office and that he'd just put it there when Italo went to school three weeks ago.
He said I was crazy. I asked if we should bring Italo into the conversation. He said no, that was pointless. But he insisted that the box had been in Italo's room for 5 months and that he had just bought the remote I was holding in my hand.
I pointed out that while I loved him, the remote had a "Dish Network" stamp on it and wasn't available in stores. Then I asked him why he was continuing to lie? Why not just say "I was mad about so and so and decided to take the box and hide the remote to get even with you."
He reiterated that I was crazy, never asked about the box at all, that my television doesn't even need a box to function, that he had indeed bought a Dish Network remote at Walmart and that he was out of here if I was going to keep saying he lied about any of it.
So he left. Then Italo and Sarah and Chepa and the babies joined Madeleina and I for a great soup dinner and Marco has not been home since.
I'm afraid this rift is going to take some time to heal. He has somehow convinced himself that what he's saying is true, and that I'm a bum for thinking otherwise. Not just a bum but a bad person. I probably am both a bum and a bad person, but I'm right here. And while I don't, finally, care about the TV box, I do care about my kid being able to own up to something he did and then lying about it. That's an important one. I'll give all the slack in the world: He might hate me because he's missing his grandma--who died in this house 5 years ago and who had been such an important part of his life--or because he hates his work, or because he resents me still being his dad now that he's turned 21, or that he resents himself for living at home at 21 and needs something like this to get him to move out. I would understand any of it. And I hope he comes in today and tells me what it is. I'll miss him if he moves out, but then 21 is grown and time not to have to listen to your father's rules anymore. Which means moving out and getting and supporting your own place.
But I really really don't like the lying. I don't like it from little kids and I don't like it from him. None of us like to own up to our errors--and I make a lot of them--but you got to try. You got to swallow your pride and admit you were a jerk and try to make sure it doesn't happen again. That's part of growing up.
I love you Marco. I always will. I know you're responsible at work and with Carly's family. I also know you're a kid when around me. I live with you not doing a lot of chores. I don't like it but I live with it because I'm a pushover for you and Chepa and Italo and Madeleina and the babies. You guys bring me that much joy that I overlook a lot.
But I expect you to handle this like a man, or move out.