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I reach for the sheet and gently lift it up and down to his thighs but hesitate before climbing into the bed. He's not exactly pretending he's asleep, but when I whisper, "Dad?" he doesn't answer. I tiptoe over to the side of the bed, watching the sheet rise and fall along with Dad's breathing. After that he decided to get a steady job and raise a family with his new bride. Made the taxi squad one year and was hoping to make the team the following year but he blew out his knee.
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He was a all-conference offensive tackle in college and got invited to an NFL training camp at a free agent. Lucky Mom was a tiny woman, because even in the massive king-size bed there isn't much room when there's a guy that's about 6'5" and over 250 pounds in it.ĭad was a football player, and a good one in his day. I can see Dad's shape under the sheet, his massive frame taking up most of the mattress. I close the door behind me - it opens and closes silently now since I oiled the hinges - and I stand inside my parents bedroom while my eyes adjust to the near-darkness. I open the door slowly, and my shadow appears on the wall next to the bed. What would I do if it was locked? I honestly don't know, and can only hope the knob will turn. I'm standing at the door and reaching for the knob, turning it ever-so-slowly. I've suggested it, but every night he's had his boxer shorts on. Hopeful Dad will be naked one of these nights too. Clothes would only get in the way once I get there. The house is deathly quiet, with only the ticking of the grandfather clock down at the end of the hall breaking the silence. If he didn't want me to come in, there's a lock on the door.
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Just like the last dozen nights he will protest at first, but I think that's more from guilt than anything else. Ever since then I've been the one coming to visit him, and tonight will be no different.
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That time it was Dad coming into my room.
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I was scared that first night while it was happening, and I cried a little, but more because I was confused and had been roused out of a sound sleep. He's been apologizing for it ever since, but I keep telling him that there's no apology necessary. We love each other very much, but in different ways now. Now there's just two, a hard working man who just turned fifty and a nerdy college student closer to 19 than 18. That was then, when my older sister still lived here and Mom was still alive. Before a couple of weeks ago we were just a couple of guys sharing a home that used to house four. Maybe we're both thinking the same thing. He might have a drink or two at a bar, but he's not much of a drinker. I don't know where he goes all evening or what he does. I would have been awake if he stayed out until 3. I've been waiting for him, and it's only a little past ten. I suspect the second reason is that maybe he's hoping I'm asleep, but there's no way that would happen. One is that he's a considerate man by nature, and since it's late he doesn't want to disturb anyone in the neighborhood. He's trying to be quiet, probably for two reasons. Then came the faint footsteps along the path in front of the house and up the steps. He waited out in the car for a minute, and then I heard the car door open and then close. It's been about fifteen minutes since I heard the car pull into the driveway. A story told through the mind of a young man.