I felt extremely awkward having dinner with my father at Lyon's Family restaurant down the street from my apartment, which he had never seen.
"I'll just have chicken strips and a coke."
"Are you sure that's all you want? I'm buyin." He reminded me.
"No, I'm good. I like chicken."
He had just gotten out of rehab and apparently decided this was the best thing for a sober father to do. Just pretend like he was always my father.
"So, do you have a boyfriend?"
"No." The nerve. Like that's any of his business. His inquiries were as cold and meaningless as the second fork they gave me wrapped up in my napkin, which I never use.
"So your mother says you play guitar. Maybe you can play me a song sometime?"
"Sure." I told him, but I never will. He's probably going to leave in a week and be gone for years anyway. He never stays sober for long.
"What else did mom tell you about me?"
"Not a lot. I wanted to get to know you myself. Look I know I haven't been around for a while and this is hard on you and I'm sorry. But this is hard on me to." He has no idea what's hard on me. This is a cake walk.
"Ok dad." The waitress came with our food. Polly. I bet that's not even her real name. I know that's not her real haircolor. The dark roots leading up to her cheap bleached blond hair reminded me how cheap of an effort this little reunion really was on his part. I ate my chicken and he had his steak. Apparently he likes it burnt. I would have figured him a rare as it can come kinda guy. He's one of those big burly men. He never liked that I wasn't a girly-girl. But that's his problem.
"Well that was nice dad. What did you want to do now?" I promised my mom I wouldn't bounce after dinner, but that's all I wanted to do.
"I want to show you my place."
"Where are you staying?"
"Downtown, it's about an hour drive." An hour? Fuck I haven't had a fix for more than three hours already. He's killing me. Again. I followed him in my car, I don't trust him driving. I don't trust him at all.
His house was clean, the bed was made. He probably just cleaned it before we met up so he could try to impress me. I'm not impressed. I'm coming down.
"So what do you think? It's small but the bills are low. It's close enough so you can come visit me anytime you want."
"Cool. It works." I said surveying the rest of the apartment. There were onloy condiments in the fridge. Typical bachelor. At least there isn't any alcohol.
"Listen, Michelle. I got a letter while I was in rehab. I know about how you got arrested for stealing that bottle and..."
"What? Don't go there dad."
"Don't worry I won’t. I've been there and I never want to go back. But you..."
"You don't know me." I peered at him and his eyes glazed over.
"Where is your bathroom?"
"It's down that hall." He pointed. I walked. He followed.
"Are you following me?"
"Yes." he answered.
"Is there something you wanna ask me dad?"
"Is there something you wanna tell me?"
"I'm outta here." I stormed out the front door and ran to my car. He can't make me cry, never again. My hands were shaking.
Coming back to my apartment was a huge relief. Home is where the what was? I can't remember. I need my fix. I pulled my stash out of purse and handled it. The phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Sweetheart what happened?"
"I don't wanna talk about it Mom, and I don't want to see him anymore." I can hear her worrying.
"I just thought he could talk to you, maybe he could help..."
"I don't need any of your goddamn help. So let me be me or just let me be ok." I hung up the phone and fell into my bed. I don't know why I hate him for everything I've become. It's different. It wasn't my fault it was his.
The next day I'm still in a haze when the phone rings again. Caller I.D. says it's my mom so I don't answer.
"Baby," The answering machine is talking to me, "Baby pick up the phone," she's crying this time so I go to it.
"Yeah mom what's wrong?"
"Did he call you?"
"Who?"
"You're father."
"I don't have a father."
"Don't say that." Why is she getting so serious with me all of a sudden. She acts like she didn't hate him for leaving us too.
"What do you want? I was busy."
"I'm coming over there."
I hid everything. I suspected she knew but she doesn't need to see that I'm a junkie like my dead beat dad. There was a knock at the door thirty minutes later. I opened it and she was standing there with a grave look on her face.
"He's dead." she said.
"Who's dead?
"He left his apartment right after you did. He was on his way here when..." her voice cracked and she held her mouth. Tears welled up inside my eyes. The disappointment that was waiting in the corners of my brain surged into the center of the room. I turned away from her. All I ever wanted was a dad. All I ever got was a father, every other five years or so. I can't handle this.
"Get out." I say. She has to leave, she can't see do what I wanted to do.
"What?" She asked.
"Get out! Get out! Get out!" I screamed.
"Sara beth needs to see you,” I don’t want to talk about her right now, but mom does “he was her grandpa and I don't think it's my place to tell her. You're her mother." Why is she saying this to me, Why is she hurting me? Can't she see I'm in pain? I need painkillers.
"Just go please, I'll come over in a couple hours." She stared at me, "I just need two hours mom."
"Fine I'll go but let me ask you one thing before I go. Are you gonna be an occasional mother to her the rest of her life, or are you ever gonna step up and off of that shit and be a mom?" I want to.
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