Rocky Road

This got deleted when writerscafe.org had that fiasco where everyones story got deleteed so I puller this one out and decided to edit one last time. written on my senior year of HS

Rocky Road

 

                        As spring begins to wane into the summer and the wind turns warmer I know that dreadful day has come again. Fathers day. It arrives every third Sunday of the month of June. And the familiar feeling of dread hangs over me. I despise this holiday, it’s as if it’s the day Lucifer himself walks the earth just to pluck the strings of my painful memories.  Every year is similar to previous one, a looping movie, stuck on rewind.

 

            This year prove no different. Walking down the street I am reminded that its here. Shops are filled with young kids and their mothers, arguing whether dad would like the blue tie over the red. As soon as I passed by, all talks turned to whispers. I hear a snippet of ‘Rocky’, ‘son’ and ‘dead’. My ears burned and I quickly ran past them. A rock hits me in the head. Ignoring the pain I kept running, weaving between people. I knocked down a man and his grocery. He swore loudly and said something about my mother. I ignored him too and ran the rest of the way home.

 

            Home was just as worse as outside. Three expensive china plate sat gleaming on the dining table, waiting to be filled with food. My mother emerges from the kitchen, untying the apron from her waist.

 

            “Hey, how was school?” she said, pecking my check.

 

            “Great ma, how was work?” I asked hoping to God that her answer would be different this year.

 

            Silence. I regretted asking her. Nothing will ever change. I stared at the third plate, its blue flowery designs elaborate and complicated. I squinted hoping my will power would somehow burn through. Nothing.

 

“I cooked some steak, are you hungry?” she asked, following my gaze. She does it every year. Placing her one expensive plate, usually reserved for Thanksgiving, where he would’ve sat. Every year, she took the day off, cleaning, cooking, thinking.

 

I shook my head. “No, I’m goin to my room”

 

“Wait”

 

“What?”

 

“Your father is getting out of penitentiary early, on Tuesday” A gush of blood pounded in my ears, making it difficult to hear her next words. “…His a nice man Daniel, not honest, but nice.” She stopped to blow her nose. “ It’d be nice if you visit him before you leave for college…” She trailed off seeing the furious expression on my face. It was no use. There was no way in hell I’d visit my father. I never have nor never will. No matter how much of his blood pumped and flowed through my veins, there’s no way I would ever want to see his face. “Daniel..please…”

 

“Ma cut the crap!” I shouted “He destroyed our lives!” Words from my mouth gushed from my mouth loud and fast. “ Don’t look so f****n surprised. You know what the neighbors call you? Call me? Call us? They whispher behind our backs and you know it. They point fingers, we are the blemish on the face of this town!” 

 

Silence.

 

She stared at me. He eyes cloudy and glazed. With a blink, it was gone. Her face broke into a cracked smile.

 

“Go buys some ice cream for dinner”

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

            They called my father Rock. His name was Rochester but everyone called him Rock. A six feet walking muscles, he walked around town with a gold brick in his pocket. He smiled an spoke to everyone he knew. That’s the only thing my mother ever mentioned. I try not to think about him too much. Mom doesn’t like mentioning him either. It’s too painful for her. She walks around the house with her eyes gray filled with sorrow. Bags nesting themselves underneath her eyes, she did performed everything with a robotic routines, even mother hood.

 

            I remember a few things. He worked often, and he barely came home. This would infuriate my mother to no end.

 

            He came home one day smiling, as if he had a big secret, and was keeping it from the world.

 

            “Daniel!” he bellowed, his voice rattling the hut we called home. I ran to him and he placed me on his lap. “Everythings better now, Daddy got a new job!” From that day on, everything was different. Every Sunday afternoon, we would pack into the family car and he would drive us to the nearest Haagen Daz. There we pigged out on all our favorite ice creams. Mine, a Sundae, my mother a bannana split, and my father, a rocky road. We would spend hours, laughing, joking, even after the ice cream had melted.

 

 

***

 

 

            I was six it had happened. Sitting on the swing that my father had built on a tree in front of our new house. I dangled my feet back and forth that late summer afternoon. I stared up the empty road waiting impatiently for my father to return from work.

 

            “Daniel, come inside it’s getting late!” My mother called from the window.

 

            “I’m waiting for Dad. Said’ he was gonna pick me up for ice cream!”

 

            “What time did he call?”

 

            “I think..it was…12. I think, I don’t remember.

           

            “Jesus, Daniel it’s 5 o’clock, inside.”

 

            “But mommy!..”

 

            “GET YOUR A*S INSIDE!” I got off the swing and looked at the road one more time and sheepishly went inside.

 

            He never came. Later that night, his face was plastered all over the news. Bad enough the town knew who he was, the cops showed up in our front door with their sirens blasting half the block out of the face of the earth. Manslaughter and possession of illegal narcotics they said.  He smoked it, sold it, and distributed. They caught him and shot a cop in a desperate attempt to get away. My mother cried everyday for 3 weeks after that. We would never see him again.

 

            There was a trial of some sort. It was live on national television. If God had no pity for a murderer, the American has no sympathy for its families. Everyone avoided us like a plauged. Our house was bought from drug money, our life, was run on drug money. And all of a sudden I found myself playing by alone.

 

            I will remember that night for the rest of my life. Tearing the our photographs from the wall, I felt so ashamed. I would never ever be able to play with my friends again.

 

 

                                   ***

 

 

                        I could barely recognize his face. His once slick black hair had turned to a charcoal standing at odd angles.  Age had taken it’s toll. Deep wrinkles engraved himself on his forhead, and depression of dark ring formed, burying his eyes. This was not my father I had known when I was a child. He smelled oddly like disinfectant. He stood up when I entered the room.

 

                        “Daniel you’ve- you’ve grown!” His voice was strange, alien. It wasn’t what I remembered. “I was just speaking to your mother about-”

 

                        “What the hell are you doing here?” I looked at my mother “Are you crazy, why’d you let him in?” I felt as if my whole head would explode to smithereens.

 

                        My mother opened her mouth to speak, but he answered for her.

 

                        “I wanted to see you son. You…you and your mother were all I thought about in jail. You kept me alive all these years.” He stretched out his hand to touch me but I moved out of his reach. I felt the heat rise to my face, felt the veins pumping in my forehead. I hate this. I hate this man. I felt no connection, no respect, no pity for the wasted tears that flowed on his cheeks. He deserves this.

 

                        “I’m not perfect Daniel. I made the wrong choice. And I’m sorry, maybe, maybe I should’ve tried a little harder. But I didn’t, it’s my fault-”

 

                        “DAMN RIGHT ITS YOUR FAULT! YOU CRACK HEAD DRGU DEALER!” I couldn’t think about anything else. My mind played the memory of me waiting in the swing like a movie. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see straight. My hands felt numb from the grip of my fist.I took a deep breath. “Just leave. Now. Don’t even try to see me again. I’m not your son. Go out that door and don’t even look back. Your out of my life.

 

                        He stared at me long and hard. The silence was deafening, but I stared back.

 

                        “ I’m sorry. I understand. But I will love you always.” He stared at me again. He kissed my mother on the cheeck and slowly walked out the door.

 

 

                                   ***

 

 

              I havent seen him since. I might have been a bit harsh, but I don’t regret it. He got what he deserves. Besides, I already have too much in my plate with college, work and my mother and worrying  about something in the past wasn’t going to help. My mother never fully recovered from last year. She spends all her time sitting out the window staring at the passing cars. I spent a weekend with her every month to keep her company.

 

                        When I arrived that Saturday on June I knew something was different. Plannin to surprise her, I entered the house from the back door into the kitchen. There on the table I saw a familiar sight. Three expensive plates sat waiting. She must’ve heard the keys because a moment later she entered the kitchen.

 

                        “It’s father’s day tomorrow Daniel.” My mother had completely transformed since my last visit. She had lost tremoundous amount of weight, her arms thin as a branch. Her face looked plae and ghostly white. “And I still haven’t heard from your father. I’m getting worried.”

 

                        Ma your sick, look at you…have you been eating?” I know what was going to come up next and I was ready to avoid it. I grabbed an apple from the fridge and took a bite.

 

                        “Damn it Daniel I’m dying. Can’t you see it? I can’t see sleep anymore Daniel. Whenever I do, I see your father’s face. His dying too, I just know it! I should’ve stopped him from leaving a year ago. I should’ve forgiven him. Daniel, LISTEN TO ME!” She grabbed the apple and threw it at the wall where it splattered, leaving a wet silhouette. I stopped chewing. It tasted like rubber in my mouth. Rubber of hate and rage. F**k this I thought.

 

                        “Ma I can care less if his dying. It was his-”

 

                        “Fault? Is that all you care about? It’s time to move on Daniel! I have! Your…Your drowned in your own self-pity!! He did it because we had no money. He did it for us.We were going to lose everything, we were going to lose you! His not an honest man, but his a good man.”

 

                        “Ma…”

 

                        She left sobbing.

 

 

                                   ***

 

 

                        The building was across the street, It’s wndows were like eyes, dark and forboding. This was where he last lived after his release, according to his parole officer.I parked my car near a lonel run down store. This was where he used to deal. As I stepped out of the car I felt the eyes of the whole neighborhood follow my every movement. This was the dangerous part of the city. But I wasn’t afraid. So I entered the bombarded building.

 

                        Ten minutes later I emerged from the building, relieved and worried. Relieved from the smell, worried because he wasn’t there.

 

             I continued to search throughout the afternoon. I was determined to find him. And I wasn’t going home until I did, until I found answeres.I felt exhausted, frustrated.

 

                        I was finally going to give up. As I passed a highway bridge a movement caught my eye. Sitting against the wall underneath the bridge was a man, a bottle in his hand. As my car passed, the headlights illuminated his face. I stopped and ran across the street.

 

                        “Rocky?” He raised his head and looked at me with teary eyes. A full beard had formed on his face and he smiled.

 

                        “Dad” I said. My voice woke him up. Realizing who I was he started walking back nervously muttering.

 

                        “Daniel, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry. I am not your father.” His voice slurred. “I ruined your life, I’m sorry.”

 

                        “No, I’m sorry.”

 

                        “But you-”

 

                        “Forget it. Get on the car, let’s go and grab some ice cream.”