“You notice the old man ain’t back yet?” Sam said as he dropped the various ingredients into the blender.
“Hmmm. That ain’t like him at all. Dude’s always been a bit of a stickler for proper bedtimes and all that.” A smile curled onto my lips. As kids, we had a strict nine p.m. bedtime, but Dad eased up on it in our second year of high school, not wanting to have to fight us over trivial things. And we hated being the kids with the earliest official bedtime in the school.
Despite that, he kept to it himself. Into bed before ten, up at four-thirty because the school principal had to be in school at the ass-end of early. Not something I envied, especially as I found getting there before eight an arduous task.
Even though we planned to return to education in college, those classes had reasonable hours, not starting at the crack of fucking dawn. Who thought a morning schedule for teenagers was a good idea?
Sam poured milk into the blender. “Didn’t he say something last week about having a big surprise for us after graduation?”
“Yep. I think he did. Dude stood up to us needling for him to spill the beans early, too. He has a spine of steel.” We never could get him to bend on anything. He was too used to tricky teenagers. He had an answer for everything.
“What do you think it is?”
“I’d like to think he’s gonna spring us a couple of cars, matching. New, but in different colors.”
“Yeah, dream on, man.”
“I will. Just a second car for us so we don’t have to share that old rust-bucket Corolla would be nice.”
“Hey, I like the Corolla,” Sam protested. “Sure, it’s not pretty, but it has character. Like it’s seen a war zone, and it’s still trucking.”
“Yeah, looks like it drove over a bunch of landmines. I’ll give you that.”
The blender started hacking everything into a fine paste as I thought more on it. It wouldn’t be something material. The old man didn’t do stuff like that. If he got another car, it would be a used one, and he’d just show up with it one day.
If he withheld something and stuck to it, it was because he had a reason to do so.
As much as I wanted a brand new car or fully-funded tour of the entire world, I knew it wasn’t going to be anything like that.
While the blender spun down, the front door opened, and footsteps followed. Dad entered the kitchen with a huge smile on his face and the signs of slight disheveledness about him. Five o’clock shadow and messy hair hinted at a busy night. I blinked and turned away. I really didn’t want to think about my dad being remotely involved in anything similar to what I had done with Grace.
Sam, though, lacked the diplomatic approach that I took to the situation. “Uh oh, what’s this walk of shame? Did our old man finally get some after a long drought?”
I turned back to see Dad’s reaction.
His smile grew wider, more twisted. He had taken Mom’s passing ten or so years ago hard, as losing a spouse would affect anyone. For a time, I guess, Sam and I were completely in the way of him finding love again. He hardly had the time, what with the demands of work and being a single parent. But we also brought selfish pressure to bear on him: absolutely no one could ever be allowed to replace Mom.
It took a few more years of wisdom and seeing how other families worked to realize that wasn’t what it meant. Kids are fucking idiots, and the two of us were no exception. Our dad didn’t deserve to be lonely.
“Maybe that’s what happened.” He winked and walked over to where Sam stood with his hand on the silent blender. “Do you think you could make some of that for me too, Sam?”
“On it, Dad.” Sam grinned and turned his attention back to the liquid breakfast.
He added more ingredients to the blender to make enough for the three of us.
Dad didn’t indulge with us often, but it felt like some sort of familial manhood bonding thing when he did. Like it was going to be a big, important moment.
And right then, he looked like he could do with the energy boost. Either he’d been to one hell of an after-graduation party, or he’d been getting laid all night. Or both.
Soon, we were at our kitchen table, my brother and I on either side of our father.
A big gulp of the smoothie later, Dad cleared his throat. “Boys, time to tell you I’ve been holding out on you.”
“Go for it, old man, we are all ears,” Sam said.
“Not so much of the old; I’m not too old, you know. Not that you’d understand, being merely eighteen. Anyway, you’ll always be my boys, even if you are adults and as tall as me.”