Dadsick
A chill runs up the back of both my arms when I think about that freezing cold winter afternoon. It was the first time I was to see my Father in 20 years, at my Grandma Agnes’ 80th birthday/family reunion shindig. I was coerced into attending by my aunt, with the guilt that this may be the last time I would ever see her, I had no idea she would be right…
I was three days into a mild but furious heroin kick, I grabbed my winter coat, (a brown suede jacket that was too small, but made me feel ridiculously cool), and slowly made my way to the bus that was headed near my aunt Marie’s house in jersey.
It was a house I retreated to from time to time as a young boy, when there were no such things as drug habits, social disorders, insecurities, or herpes…
Living only one town over as a boy, I would walk to Aunt Marie’s on hot summer days to jump in their above ground pool and hang out with my cool older cousins. After the pool served it’s purpose, I would watch tv in the living room with Uncle Bob. Uncle Bob was a truck driver and rarely ever there, but when he was, he would always be laid out on the floor in front of the tv snoring. No couch, no blanket, just sprawled on his side on the floor, in gut busted flannel shirt and glasses, snoring in and out of whatever sports thingy was happening… sometimes during mid-snore, he would remind me of a bear skinned rug, and my Aunt Mary would without fail, always be at the helm of the dining room table, in the kings chair, chainsmoking all over her crossword puzzles. I saw most of my Burt Reynolds favorites laying on that floor.
I stayed up all night that night drinking with the cousins who I hadn’t seen in over a decade. Reminiscing about the crazy shit we used to do in Aggy’s back yard, (The molestations of my private parts in the basement when I was 8 were not mentioned that evening). The booze was definitely helping with the dope sickness, and the anxiety of seeing my fathers side of the family for the first time in ages.
When we arrived at the VFW hall, I didn't recognize a single person, not even my grandmother. Last time I saw any of my cousins, they were all skinny and cool, now all massively overweight and toothless. Last time I saw any of my Aunt’s or Uncle’s, they were all 70’s style sideburns and plaid polyester everything, now unrecognizably old and shaky, also toothless. Even though I was this 26 year old junky with no real story to tell, I still felt completely relieved that I hadn't turned out like them. I felt like distancing myself from my jerk off of a father had escaped me some horrible fate of North Carolina summers, fried chicken, and food stamps.
Speaking of jerk offs of a father, in he walked. Everyone crowded around him while he shouted his hello’s like he was the godfather of Garfield. I was standing there waiting for him to notice me. I wanted him to stop everything and put his arms around me, to tell me how sorry he was and how it was all going to be ok… to take my abandoned two year old self, and finally make him a whole adult… but none of that happened. He walked right past me asking one of my aunts where the gift table was. I sat back down at the plastic folding table covered in pink birthday saran wrap, and sticky ginger ale rings, and hung my sweaty hungover head, into my shaky dopesick hands.
Someone came and directed me to my grandmother, who didn’t believe it was me. Not in a metaphorical sense, she really didn’t recognize me and thought everyone was trying to trick her. Finally, after many awkward hugs and hello’s of people I once knew as normal humans, who had now morphed into Wal-Marts most wanted, he approached me holding a letter. The letter was from my 8 year old sister, whom I had never met, it read like this (in crayon): I DON’T KNOW YOU BUT I LOVE YOU. I WOULD REALLY LIKE TO MEET YOU, YOU ARE MY FAVORITE BROTHER. LOVE WOULD BE VERY WRONG WITHOUT YOU. I’m paraphrasing, and would love to tell you that im sentimental and held onto that letter all these years, but I haven fucking idea what happened to it…
Like my emotion level wasn't at an all time high as it was, that letter just tipped the glass of milk and sent it crashing to the floor, shattering into a billion pieces, curdling the milk sour, slugging itself in-between every crack in the tile. I cried a cry I never had before, and was now the center of attention to the kentucky fried reunion… I composed myself as best I could, and ran outside.
The ice under my feet was as black as the converse barely protecting them, and was quickly freezing my heels. Gaggles of maggots were dropping from rib to rib, while armies of fire ants walked through my hair and chewed at the tops of my ears. The dope sickness was quickly demolishing the hangover as I stood outside trying to choke down on a Marlboro red.