Auguries of Summer

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 3

Later that day, I was in my dad’s kitchen, preparing dinner for him. My old man never ate anything but convenience store crap, except on those nights I’d drop by after soccer practice.

I pulled the baking sheet out of the oven and checked the egg rolls. They were nice and golden, the way he liked them. I shut the oven door and stirred some butter into the steamed broccoli, then turned everything off. My father was a healthy man, yet week after week, I came by to fix him dinner.

Sometimes I wanted to give up on him and disappear somewhere far away from here.

But I’d promised her. I’d sworn it to my mother days before she died, that I’d never leave him alone.

My phone buzzed inside my jeans and the sound shook me out of my gloomy thoughts.

I had a text from Jack.

Hey handsome, still at your old man’s?

I typed my reply.

Yes, and I have more work tonight. :-(

Seconds later Jack sent me another text.

If you started a naked maid service, you’d make five times the cash. Think about it. (You can practice at home with me this weekend)…xxx

I laughed softly and slipped the phone back into my pocket. Jack always seemed to know when I needed a little pick-me-up. And I was glad to see the morning awkwardness between us had passed.

I’d really have to keep my hands to myself tonight and lock myself up in my room.

At my father’s bedroom door, I knocked with my free hand and then opened the door a sliver. I stood in the doorway, holding his food, not really wanting to go in. The bedroom smelled badly of pot and other things I had no desire to identify. “Want some supper, Dad?”

Sitting up in bed with his laptop on his knees, my father motioned for me to enter. “I wanna show you what I got for Lou.”

Lou was my little cousin. He was turning eleven on Saturday.

I took a few steps into the room. “Dad, you know, I got a call before. Uh, from Visa, and it’s not good. Maybe you oughta cool it with the internet shopping. What card did you use anyway? Visa said the card is frozen.”

“Oh, my Mastercard.”

“I made a huge p*****t on that one last month, and I thought we agreed you wouldn’t use it anymore.”

My father sniffled and nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. Absolutely. I just—well, this was the last thing. But it’s the kid’s birthday, so I figured why not splurge a little, right?”

“So what d’you get him?”

“When my check comes in next week, give those jerks at Visa half of that and they’ll leave you alone, okay?”

“I can’t give them half of your sick leave check, Dad.” My father was so clueless. Didn’t know how bad things really were. He barely had any money left and if it weren’t for my contribution, he’d have been living on two-hundred dollars a month after the mortgage p*****t. “Don’t worry about it. Anyway, I’m figuring everything out and I’ll make arrangements with the bank or something.”

“I’m sorry about the financial stress.” He looked away at the television. “I’m f*****g up. I know.”

Ever since my mom had passed away two years ago, my dad hadn’t been able to hold a job. “So what d’you get Lou?” I asked again, changing the subject.

“A cell phone.”

What the hell?

“Lou gets lonely during the day,” my father said before I could reply. “He could call me from the bathroom at recess instead of being so alone.”

Lou was a heavy kid who got teased a lot at school. My aunt worked two jobs, and because her husband, my father’s brother, had left her high and dry, my dad felt responsible for her son. I admired my dad for his devotion to Lou, but that didn’t change the fact that my old man was broke, smoked way too much pot, and hadn’t left his bedroom in months.

“That’s not gonna help him.” I sighed. “Lou needs to feel strong, we can’t give him crutches and expect him to run the distance.”

“You’re right, but I don’t want him to be lonely.” My dad stared down at his hands on the blanket. “Maybe it’s because I’m so lonely. Don’t be angry.”

“I’m not angry.” I took a deep breath. “And I know you’re lonely.”

“How’s work?” he asked, changing the subject, as usual.

He and I could never really talk. Something always stopped us from breaching that big void between us. Our egos, I supposed. We hadn’t been close before my mother’s death and since she’d left us, it was even worse. Her absence filled the house more than her presence ever had.

“Dad,” I said, “I clean houses. There’s not much to it. What do you want me to say? It’s shitty. Sometimes literally.”

“Sit down here for a second.”

I set his plate on the cluttered dresser. “I have to go. I have work tonight”

“I love you, you know that, right?”

I crossed my arms over my chest. I hated it when he turned sentimental on me. Because with my father, affection was more often than not, straight out manipulation.

“You’re her spitting image.”

“Don’t.” I couldn’t talk about her. Not yet. I wasn’t ready.

My father looked down at his laptop. “Do you want me to cancel the purchase?”

“Yeah, I do. I really do. Get Lou a book or something.”

My dad reached over for the ashtray on the nightstand. Now he was going to light a joint and get high. It was medicinal m*******a, or so he called it. But he didn’t get his pot from a clinic. He bought it from a neighbor—a dealer I knew from high school. My dad said the weed helped with the nerves. The depression. The headaches.

Fine.

Maybe it did.

But I couldn’t stick around for that part. “I’ll call you this week,” I muttered, walking backwards to the door.

“How’s the new place?” my dad asked, stopping me from leaving.

“Great.”

“And how’s Jack doing?” But I knew my old man was only being polite. He didn’t care a thing for Jack. He thought Jack was too flamboyant. Too gay. Too effeminate.

To Dad, it was all right to be gay if no one else in the world knew about it. According to my father, there were two types of gay men: the gays and the fags.

Myself, I thought that was complete homophobic bullshit.

“Jack’s all right,” I said. Funny how saying Jack’s name set my pulse racing. “He was promoted last week. He’s the manager there now.” I was proud of Jack. It wasn’t the most prestigious job in the world, but he worked so hard every day. He definitely deserved that promotion and the little raise that came with it. He was the best sales man the Uomo Nuevo store had ever had.

“Oh. At that place. That fancy Italian clothes place, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Going out after work?”

“No.”

“Why not?” My dad watched me, still holding the joint in his fingers. “You should go out more often. Living with Jack isn’t gonna help you meet anyone. I still don’t understand why you had to move in with him. Of all the people in the world. I can’t imagine living with a guy like him. How does he not drive you completely insane?”

I decided not to dignify my dad’s stupid question with an answer.

As I was stepping out, I heard the flicker of his lighter and cringed. Who the hell did my old man think he was to judge anyone?