Date: Mon, 23 Mar 2015 18:30:53 -0400 From: Jeremy Ellington Subject: Lessons From My Dad-8 NOTICE: This story may contain scenes of a graphical nature, which may not be legal in your area. This story is completely fictional and written only for entertainment purposes. Any similarities to real life people or characters is coincidental. If you have trouble separating real life from fantasy or you are offended by such themes, stop reading now. Lessons From My Dad Chapter 8 By coincidence, Dad's birthday was exactly one week before mine. I'd always wondered if it was planned that way, but since I wasn't really sure how all that worked, I always felt I shouldn't ask to avoid looking too dumb. Anyway, I had big plans for that day. Dad always liked the way I made lasagna. It was a recipe I first got off the box, but I thought that sounded kind of boring so I also looked up recipes on the internet. I finally created my own that required three different kinds of cheese, ground beef, mushrooms (he and I both loved mushrooms in everything), and the kind of noodles that don't require pre-cooking. I added some extra spices from a packet, and he always raved about it. I always made enough that we could have at least one night of leftovers from it. His birthday was Friday (as mine would be, the following week), so I spent every other day at the store, buying the ingredients for the lasagna, garlic bread and a Cesar salad. I also bought the makings for a cake. I'd never baked a cake before, but I made biscuits all the time so I decided it couldn't be that much harder. I bought the candles and even a little cake server. I wouldn't normally spend that kind of money on just one dinner, but this one had to be special. I baked the two layers for the cake on Thursday, and then hid them in the bottom of the fridge. I ran around with air freshener afterwards in hopes of hiding the scent of the baked goods, then just whipped up some Potatoes au Gratin for dinner. I got under my bed and pulled out the tray I had made for him in shop class at school. Dad always left bits of food in the chair where he ate from trying to balance the plate on his lap, and I decided to make him a wooden tray for his lap. I used maple, carved a handle at each end, then shined that thing and stained it until it glowed in the light. My shop teacher wasn't very keen on the idea, but we were supposed to choose our own projects, and once I got about halfway through he started to tell me what a good job I was doing, and asked me to share my blueprints with him for a future class. I told him they came from the internet, but when I showed him he said it was obvious I had added some things and that's what he wanted to have. I wrapped the tray and hid it back under my bed. On Friday I ran home full speed to start the lasagna. I carefully layered everything just the way I wanted it, then at the end used the last bit of cheese and sauce to spell out `Happy Birthday' on the top. I knew it would run together a bit while cooking, but I was sure he'd be able to make it out anyway. I pulled out the cake layers and frosted them together, then plugged on the candles, placing the matches close by. I quickly set the table with a tablecloth we hadn't used in years, got out some actual china (we usually just used paper plates for everything), then had two large, tapered candles ready to light. I ran to the bathroom and took the fastest shower on record, so afraid that he would come home before I had the chance to get back, light the candles, and sing Happy Birthday to him. I grabbed his present out from under my bed and set it on the table near his plate, then looked at the clock. Whew! I was exhausted from running around, and nervous and giddy as hell, but very pleased with the end result. I looked at the clock again. Fifteen minutes past his usual time. Ah well, Friday traffic was never dependable, the lasagna was keeping warm in the oven. Another fifteen minutes crawled by. I started to worry about him. He told me he and Carl were ahead of schedule, so what could possibly be keeping him? I pulled the lasagna out of the oven and placed it on a trivet on the table to cool a little. Another fifteen minutes. Then another. Then a half hour. Finally I couldn't take it anymore and I called his work phone. The answering service picked up. I called his cell phone. After about 4 rings he answered. "Seanie!!! What's goin on my little boy?!" Drunk. Dad was drunk. I could barely hear him over the noise, and right away I knew where he was: Joe's Tavern. "Dad, where are you? What are you doing? You didn't tell me you were going out tonight, this isn't your night with Carl. Why didn't you come home first, you always come home first!?" "Aw Seanie, don't tell me you forgot! It's my birthday Sean! Carl and the guys dragged me out the door after work and we've been here celebratin the whole time! Why don't you come over?" I could hear some shouting next to him. "Wait, hold on Seanie! Oh, Carl says you can't come over, you're not old enough!" With that he laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "Fuck Sean, he's right, you'd never make it past the door! I'm having a great time here with the men my boy, you go ahead and make yourself a hot dog or something, okay Seanie?" I was...well, I don't know what I was. Shocked, hurt, angry...so angry. `With the men' he said. After all this time, I thought it was different. I thought he had accepted me as more than just a baby. "FUCK you Dad, you have a great time with all your MEN, and you can tell them to go fuck themselves too! And tell them your BOY said so!" "Sean, don't you dare talk to me like tha..." and that was all I heard. I slammed the phone down. I really shouldn't have heard him say that much, but my hands were shaking so badly I missed the first time I aimed the handset for the cradle, so I had to slam it again. I just sat there, numb and unbelieving. Everything I thought we meant to each other, all the things we had shared. All the trouble I went to just to make this a special evening for him. At first all I could feel was shock. Then the tears came flooding from my eyes and I crumpled into a ball on the floor. The phone rang. I let it ring, I knew it would eventually go to voicemail by the 5th ring. Quiet. Then the phone rang again. I just stared at it. This process went on over and over, maybe seven or eight times, then it finally stopped. I cried for what felt like forever, then slowly picked myself up off the floor and in a daze, walked to my bedroom. I wanted to slam the door shut, but with just me there to hear it, that seemed pointless. I closed the door quietly and turned the lock. I can't remember ever locking my door. Not in all the years we'd lived here, I even remembered once wondering why there was a lock on the door to begin with. I lay down on my bed and let the tears flow. It was about 10 minutes later when I heard the front door open, then my Dad's voice "Sean!!! Where the fuck are you, you get your ass in here right......". And them he stopped...and I knew. I knew what he was looking at. He saw the table. He saw the cloth, and the lasagna and the candles. He saw the cake and the matches and the wrapped gift. He saw the puddle of tears. He saw the door to my bedroom, closed. He hurried to my door and grabbed the handle. "Sean!" I bet he was just as shocked to find it locked as he was to find everything else. "Sean, baby, I am so sorry honey, oh my god Seanie, please let me come in. Oh Sean, I didn't know, Sean I swear I didn't know they were taking me out for drinks, and I really never meant to stay that long, or drink so much, oh god Sean, the lasagna, the cake, its all so wonderful, please son, please let me in!!" I didn't move. I could have. I could very well have let him in, I knew he was upset that he had missed my special dinner for him. I just couldn't do it, I hurt so much. I understood the after-work celebration, I guess I could even forgive the lateness of the hour, but I didn't think I could ever forget those words `I'm...here with the men...boy'. I knew I wasn't really considered a man, not chronologically, not emotionally, and certainly not by society's standard, but just to hear him say that to me, with others around to hear him say it. It was just too much for me. "Sean, please, oh please son, please forgive me, I don't know what to do, and I don't know what else to say to make this right son, please, please forgive me! I know you went to a lot of work for my birthday son and I never meant to miss it, please, can you please come out so we can enjoy your wonderful dinner?" I didn't move. I hardly took a breath. I couldn't give in, as much as I wanted, needed, to feel my Dad's arms around me, the hurt was just too much. I heard a thud against the door, then I could tell he was sliding his body down to the floor. He began to cry, softly, whispering my name every so often. My heart wrenched in my chest, but still I couldn't move. I knew he was still a little drunk. I could hear him breathing. All the emotion, and the strain...slowly I fell asleep. I woke up the next morning at around 9:30, wondering why I was still dressed. I sat bolt upright in bed as everything came rushing back to me. I looked at the door...still locked. I carefully got out of bed and quietly walked to the door, wondering if he was still laying there. I opened the door slowly, in case he was leaning against it...he wasn't there. I admit, a little part of me was disappointed. I crept to the bathroom to pee, then walked past his bedroom. His bed hadn't been touched. I wandered into the living room. Empty. I made my way to the kitchen and saw that the table was bare except for the still-wrapped gift and a note. "Sean, something has come up at work and I had to go in. I won't be very long, although afterwards I do have to go get my car. I am so very sorry son, I know I hurt you badly last night, and I will do everything and anything to make it up to you. I put the lasagna and the cake in the fridge. Please let's celebrate tonight. All my love, Dad." I smiled. I felt better, so much better than I did last night. Dad is trying to make amends, and if I really wanted him to stop seeing me as a little boy, I need to `man up' and forgive him and put this behind us. "P.S. Carl is coming home with me to work on a project. Would it be okay if he has dinner with us?" Carl?!?! Fuck! Didn't he already ruin one night, now he has to ruin another? I couldn't believe it! What was he thinking, how could he not see this the same way I did? All of this was Carl's fault, he is always the one, always taking Dad from me. I yanked open the fridge and dragged out the lasagna. I pulled the trash can from under the sink and dumped the lasagna in, using my fingers to make sure every bit was out of the pan. Then I picked up the cake from the top rack of the fridge and dumped it, candles and all, into the trash on top of the lasagna. Finally, I picked up the tray I had made for him and shoved it in after, making sure it was at least half buried in the lasagna/cake mess. I grabbed the note he'd left and scribbled on the bottom "NO!!" Then I hurried to get dressed, grabbed my backpack, stuffed it with a bag of chips and a couple of cans of soda and ran out of the house. I hopped on my bike and pedaled to the farthest park I could think I could make before my legs gave out, found a spot under a tree, and fell to the ground in tears. I stayed in the park until after dark, trying to decide what to do. I knew I had to go home eventually, knew that he would be upset that I was out late and no dinner was on the table. I didn't care about that as much as I worried how to face him when I got home. I wanted to just hurry by and get to my room, but I didn't think that was likely to happen. I made up my mind I had to get home, and the later I waited the worse it would be for me. I got on my bike and slowly peddled back to the house. When I turned the corner at the end of our block I could see both Dad's car and Carl's truck sitting in the driveway. I stopped and debated turning back for the park, and then I thought about the situation. With Carl there, Dad was less likely to make too much of a scene, so I could maybe make myself a quick sandwich and head for my room without having to get yelled at. I opened the side door of the garage and locked up my bike, then went back out to the front door of the house. I could hear Dad and Carl talking with the TV news on in the background as I quietly opened the door. I made my way to the kitchen, made a fast pb&j sandwich, grabbed a soda from the fridge and headed towards my room. "Sean? Is that you son?" asked my Dad. I stopped and leaned into the front room doorway. I looked at his face and saw a mix of emotions. I knew he was angry, but I could also see some confusion and hurt there as well. "Yeah it's me, just grabbing a sandwich" I said, hoping that would be sufficient to get me back on my way to my room. I heard a chuckle and looked over at Carl, who just sat there with a nasty smirk on his face. "Hey BOY," he said with too much emphasis. "Damn it Carl!" my Dad said, a little louder thank I think he intended to. Carl's smirk vanished from his face, and I took that opportunity to dash off to my room. I could hear Dad and Carl arguing softly. "He's your kid Aaron, you have to show him who's in charge around here" Carl spit out at my Dad. "Fuck Carl, you don't understand. You'd make a lousy father" my Dad spit back. I strained to make out what they were saying after that, but it was obvious Dad was keeping the rest of the conversation as low as he could. I finished my sandwich; snuck out to the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth, then snuck back into my room, closed the door and locked it. I got out of my clothes, crawled into bed and turned out the light. As I was falling asleep I could hear the front door close, then Carl's truck start up and drive away. I heard Dad walking towards the bathroom then close the door. After he came out, he walked to my bedroom. I could hear him try the door handle, then heard him sigh. "Oh Seanie". He stood there awhile, then walked to his room. I fell asleep thinking of what I was going to do tomorrow. Sunday morning came too early, I didn't feel as if I had slept much at all. I pulled myself out of bed, pulled on a pair of shorts, and headed towards the bathroom. As soon as I opened my door I could smell the coffee and bacon. Dad rarely cooked, so I knew he was trying to get things back to normal. After I finished in the bathroom I walked out to the kitchen to find Dad standing in a pair of jeans and a shirt, draining the bacon into the grease can we kept under the sink. I was surprised he was dressed. "Mornin," I mumbled. "Good morning sunshine!" he said as he spun around to look at me. He had a smile on his face, but I could still see the worry he was trying to hide. "How do you want your eggs?" "Dad you only know how to make them scrambled, so I guess that's how I'd like them" I giggled, hoping he would relax. His smile got bigger and I could see that he did, in fact, relax a little. "Scrambled eggs for two it is then" he said, and grabbed the eggs out of the fridge. "And thanks for buying eggs!" he added, smiling at me again. I reached for the bread to start making some toast. "Hey, hey, too many chefs in the kitchen! I'll cook, you'll eat" he said, and shooed me away towards the table. I sat down at my usual spot where there was a glass of milk already poured and waiting on me. "Okay Dad, you're in charge," I said, then suddenly Carl's words from last night came back to me and I frowned. Dad looked at me quickly and realized that I had heard that part of last night's conversation from the look on my face. He sat the eggs down on the counter, pulled out the chair across from me and sat down. "Sean, you and I need to talk about some things." He saw me tense up right away, then added, "Not everything right at once, we can save some of it for a later time, but I can tell that you heard what Carl said last night, and I hope you also heard what I told him in reply. That's not how we live here son, and I don't want you to think that I give a shit about any of Carl's opinions regarding raising my son." I looked up at him and slowly smiled. "Thanks Dad, thanks for saying that. I know Carl doesn't like me much." "Sean, its not that Carl doesn't like you, no, he likes you just fine, he just has no experience with children or teenagers or babies or anything like that. He's an only child so he has no nieces or nephews, his parents didn't have any brothers or sisters either, so any cousins he has are very distant. If his family ever had a family reunion, they could hold it in a closet. I don't know where he gets his ideas from, but they aren't worth a damn thing, and he would be the last person I would ever seek advice from, if I WAS seeking advice and I'm not." I just smiled shyly at him. There was so much more I wanted to say about Carl; how he ruined the birthday dinner I had planned, why he had to be invited the next day, and why he always looked at me so oddly, but I kept my mouth shut. Dad said we would talk over time and I didn't want things to get any worse between us. After he saw me smile he grinned back at me, then hopped back up to start cooking the eggs. We made small talk about his work, my school, we pretty much danced around everything except what we really should have been talking about. I was more than willing to let Dad take the lead, mostly because I just didn't know where to start or what to say. Dad served the eggs and toast and sat down to join me at the table with his coffee. "So Sean, I know you wanted to see that new action movie and it's playing at the mall, so if you're up for that we can go, and do some putt-putt after that." "That would be great Dad, we haven't played golf in a long time!" "Well dig in buddy, the movie starts in an hour and you're not even dressed yet!" I wolfed down my food, ran to the bathroom and took a quick shower, then got dressed in jeans and a shirt like Dad. We got in the car and took off for the movie with just enough time to get good seats in the theatre. The movie was good, but when we came out it was pouring rain. "Sorry buddy, I guess golf is out for today. Anything else you want to do?" "Nothing comes to mind Dad. How about for you?" We decided there was nothing urgent that we needed to buy other than a few groceries, so we headed off to the store, loaded up and then made our way home. I was actually a little tired so I went in to take a nap. After about an hour I came out only to find him sound asleep in his chair. I went back to my room and read for another hour or so, then he poked his head in and asked what was on tap for dinner. I hadn't prepared for anything, so he ordered a pizza, and we decided to just eat and watch another movie on TV. When the pizza arrived, he cleared his throat nervously. "So Sean, this will be my first time to use the cool tray you made for me. Thank you so much son, I can tell you put a lot of time and thought into it and I really appreciate my gift." I looked at him kinda funny, so he had to explain. "Well, I hope you don't mind, but I had to...well...unwrap it in order to get it out of...um...where you left it. The wrapping paper was soggy so I didn't really have a choice. I'm sorry for not waiting for when you could watch, but it really does mean a lot to me how much work I know you put into it Sean. Really, thank you." I wasn't sure where to look at this point. I mean all I could do was picture him pulling the tray out of the trash covered with bits of lasagna and cake. I was worried that we were about to talk about that evening, and I didn't really think I was ready for that yet. He must have read the look on my face, because after a short pause he just plowed ahead with his part of the conversation. "Look Sean, I can get the entire paper plate on here and still have room for a napkin, utensils and a drink. You really outdid yourself on this, I'm very proud of you and your workmanship. So...what movie do you want to watch?" And with that, the topic was postponed for another time. We finished the pizza, Dad actually drank soda with me instead of having beer, and when the movie was over he got up, took everything into the kitchen and said "Well son, its another Monday tomorrow, back to the grind for both of us! I guess we better turn in." I smiled at him, headed for the bathroom while he locked up the house, brushed my teeth and headed for my room. We said our goodnights to each other, and I undressed and crawled into bed. I left my door slightly open, and fell asleep after a bit. Monday and Tuesday nights I saw him smiling a lot. I couldn't figure out whether he was happy that we had gotten past his birthday, or if it was because mine was coming up. I didn't really know what to expect either, I mean he usually asked me well in advance if there was anything special I wanted as a gift, or if there was anything special I wanted to do. We also always went out to eat on my birthday and he hadn't said anything about that either. Dad knew I didn't really have more than a couple of kids I hung out with, and they lived close by so they knew him and he knew their folks. Those kids started smirking when I would see them at school as well, so I figured something was up. It didn't take a genius to know that with it being my big thirteenth birthday (gasp, an actual teenager!!), Dad had something cooking. That made me happy, even though it also made me feel badly for the way his birthday turned out just the week before. I started to wonder if he had my party planned out weeks ahead of time, or if this was just in reaction to what had happened, but I decided it didn't make me feel very good to speculate on that so I tried to avoid those thoughts. Everything was fine until Wednesday night when I was coming out of the bathroom early in the evening. I could hear Dad talking and at first I thought he was talking to me, but then I heard him say "Carl, no, there will not be any beer for the `grown-ups', there's gonna be kids here for christ's sake, sheesh, are you really that daft?" I made an audible gasp and Dad must have heard me, because he quickly signed off with Carl and hung up the phone. Carl! At MY birthday party? What the hell, what could he possibly be thinking? How could he invite that man to a party for me, especially with other kids around after his little speech about how he knew Carl didn't understand young people? What is wrong with my Dad's line of thinking?!? I switched course and headed for my bedroom instead of the front room and just sat on my bed. After a few minutes he poked his head around the door and asked me why I was in my room. "Um, I'm kinda tired all of a sudden Dad, I think maybe I'll turn in." He gave me a worried look and asked me if I was feeling sick. I told him I wasn't, I just wanted to go to bed. I don't think he was convinced, but he came in and kissed me on the top of the head. "Ya know Sean, I miss you spending time with me in my room. I'm sorry you aren't felling better, I was kinda hoping we could...hang out tonight." Great. He was horny, I was upset. "Sorry, I guess I didn't get a good night's rest last night. I'll make it up to you" I said quietly. With a worried look he felt my forehead like he was checking my temperature, then said "No that's okay Sean, you need your sleep for school. Good night buddy." With that he walked out and closed my door partway. I undressed, turned out the light, and just laid there for another 3 hours, trying to figure out a way to get Carl dropped from attending a party I wasn't even supposed to know I was having. ---- This work is fully protected under The United States Copyright Laws © 17 USC§§ 101, 102(a), 302(a). All Rights Reserved. Placing or posting any of these stories or story on any website, or distribution of any of these works in any way (parts or whole) without the explicit consent of the author is strictly prohibited. Any and all copyright infringements will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental, and no harm or slanderous intent is implied or intentional. The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Constructive comments are encouraged at jeremyellingtonII@gmail.com. Unconstructive comments will encourage me to use your email address for any number of spam uses. Most of this story is already written, so it is unlikely I will be able to use any suggestions as to story flow, etc. Please donate to Nifty!! You can do it right here, right night now at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html