It surprises me,
but what doesn’t is the smell inside the car, which just about knocks me over. Amazing
how much beer he
must’ve consumed
in the last couple of hours.
He looks a little
unsteady, and Monica seems unsure, so I offer, “Hey, Dad. Want me to drive?”
Hells to the no.
If you messed up and your friend got hurt, I’d be held liable.
Flawed logic.
Just who’d be held
liable if he messed up while driving a little tipsy?
Tipsy or not, he’s not changing
his mind, so I sit in back, wishing Monica and I could hold hands
or maybe attempt
something more. Now I wonder if she’s ever tried something more,
and if so, with whom.
We’ve never discussed it, for whatever reasons, but since I’ve lived here,
she hasn’t been with anyone else, at least not that I’m aware of. I do know she’s not out to
her family. No, she said when I asked. Mis padres wouldn’t understand, or accept.
Yet she accepts
herself just as she is, doesn’t try to hide from the truth of who she is inside.
I Want to Be
That sure of the truth of me.
I feel like I’m teetering on the edge
of semi-certainty,
which is pretty
much meaningless.
But I’ve got lots of time to figure it out, so for now I’ll resign myself
to enjoying the research.
When Dad pulls up in front of Monica’s house,
I jump out to claim shotgun.
Totally aware of spying
eyes nearby, Monica and I exchange an awkward good-bye.
“Thanks for the card.”
I wink. “Let’s do something stupid together soon.”
Monica smiles. How stupid can we get? You better think about that. Happy birthday, novia. She turns and motors on up the walk, calling over her shoulder, See you ma?ana.
In the Car
Dad’s singing along
with Garth Brooks.
His voice carries a hint of the twang that has almost disappeared with time
and distance from his home state.
When he starts a slow cruise, I ask, “Do you ever miss Oklahoma?”
He keeps humming
for a second or two, but
finally answers, Not much.
I left a lot of bad behind there. Nothing in Oklahoma but pain and worry, and that includes your grandparents.
Boom. He never talks
about Pops and Ma-maw—
that’s what they insisted I call them. “Do you ever hear from them?” I’m not aware of any communication.
His hands tense
on the steering wheel,
and his jaw juts forward.
Every once in a while.
Look, Air, there’s no love lost between them and me.
Not sure that’s true.
Ma-maw griped about Dad, but affectionately, at least from what I can remember.
It’s been a long while
since I’ve seen her.
“What about . . .”
I don’t know if I’m allowed to ask. Ah, why not?
“What about your brother?
I mean, don’t you want
to stay in touch
with any of your family?”
You’re my family, Air.
Besides . . . He trails off, then continues. Okay, I never told you this because it didn’t seem important for you to know, but Drew was killed in the line of duty a few years ago. He was a damn good cop, but he messed up bad that day. Never assume someone with their hands in the air isn’t concealing a weapon.
Uncle Drew
I can scarcely picture him, and what surrounds the memory is the smell
of tobacco on his fingers when he held me.
“Of course it was important for me to know, Dad! You and I have always been so isolated. So insulated.
And you’re the one who kept us
that way. I’d like to think I have family outside of just the two of us.”
Family is a recipe for heartbreak, Ariel. A recipe for heartbreak, he repeats, louder, for emphasis.
We’re almost home before I finally find the courage to ask the question that prickles on every birthday.
“Do you suppose my mother’s missing me today? Not that I really care, but do you think she wonders about me?”
I expect his usual barrage of expletives.
Instead, he sits quietly for several long seconds. Finally, he sighs heavily.
You know, sometimes I ponder that. When you first came along, Jenny seemed like such a good mama.
My Jaw Drops
I
am
blown
away.
I can’t remember
him saying one
nice thing about her.
He hardly ever even mentions her name.
“Really?”
I hope I didn’t sound too eager. But I know nothing about my babyhood.
It’s not something he discusses, and he doesn’t have a single picture of me before the age of three.
Yeah. Jesus, did she have me fooled! You know, I’ve been with a lot of women in my time. Enjoyed the company of ladies near and far.
But Jenny was the only one I ever let myself love.
I’ll never make that mistake again.
The Confession
Materializes from inner
space, so unrecognizable
it’s totally alien.
And yet it makes Dad human.
“You were in love with my mother.”
The simple declarative sentence pushes Dad over the edge.
Goddamn straight. Why does that surprise you?
“I don’t know. I just never heard you say so before.”