This shit is real and really crazy
Ok, so I guess I should start with the fact that me and my Dad kinda… well we are not close. He moved away back in 2007 and our already fragile relationship kinda fell apart. After he moved, every thing he said to me made me angry or hurt. After a while I could not take it anymore and I just cut all ties with him. But in doing so, I was hurting my Mamaw (his mom) and my sister and my step-mom which is the opposite of what I wanted. So slowly but surely after about two years I began to reconnect with him. I have to admit, once in a while he reminds me the peace those two years away felt. But for the most part, I am happy to have him back. But things are more fragile than every, except I am not as fragile. You all know I am crazy as all hell, but I am highly medicated and after losing so many friends, a husband, and a few family members, I am a bit of a tough bitch some times. So now when I spend time with him, I can not exactly say I dread it, but I can not exactly say I get excited about it either. But things are getting better. Much better as of recently. I never realized it, but there are a few things me and dad have that my sister and my dad do not have. For one, I am the one who will get up at 5am and start cleaning his garage that his wife and other daughter destroyed with Christmas decorations. I am the one who will go sit in the pitch black to “hear” the music with him. I am the one who keeps trying different beers because a part of me will have that moment where it tastes amazing like it did for him one time after he finished playing a soft ball game. He has told that story to me once or twice and I still remember the first time I heard it. I was a teen at the time and unlike most teens I had never touched a sip of alcohol and was damn proud of that… but I so desired to have that moment where I would be all hot and sweaty and worn out and run to the fridge or cooler and open a beer and drink it down and feel that amazing cool crisp flavor that would bring this amazing relief to my tired body and I would then and only then realize what the “acquired” taste was. So far… it has not happened. But I still believe! Anyways, back to listening to music in the dark. My Dad says you can not “hear” the music unless it is pitch black, he says then you can hear every beat, every individual instrument. I used to do this ever so often growing up. I never realized that was a thing between us. But recently my Dad and Step-mom had their 25th anniversary. We went out to eat, attempted one place and despite my Step-mom’s stubborn attempt to boycott the inevitable reality that there were not seats and there was never gonna be seats, we ended up at a totally different place. Me, and Denise (Step-mom) and my sister and her husband were skeptical but we went with it. I want to give a shout to Sam’s in Indiana for their very happy to please us waiter and the very good food. Anyways, we came home and we all chatted for a bit. But then I told my Dad he needed to give me another hammer cause my “Dad gave it to me that one special day” hammer was missing. He laughed and we kept talking, reminisced about the “acquired taste” beer story and then some how got in to stuff about music. He likes country for the most part. His ladies for the most part do not. But I still like quite a bit of it compared to the last few years of my life and I still love some of the old stuff that I grew up listening to in the car with my Dad. Me and my sister shouted “Achy Breaky heart is STILL a good song!!” and he just laughed at us. I mentioned how I used to love sitting in the dark with him and we both said something like, “That’s the only way you can hear the music”, at the same time. Later I got a phone call from my loving and handsome boyfriend and toward the end of the call, Dad walked by and said, “Come on, I can’t get your sister to listen to my music anymore, she hates country but you said you like it so get down here” and then he walked down to the basement. I was so excited. This had been such a WONDERFUL night, I told Jason I loved him but I had to go listen to music in the dark. He seemed confused but said he loved me and told me by. I practically skipped to the stairs to the basement. We used to have the music and tv area at the other end of the basement which is big and we had room for a couch, but that was a long time ago. Now there is a pool table there and the smaller side just under the stairs and kitchen is where the “man cave” is. My Dad has worked hard on the man cave and it looks beautiful. But… like I said, it is smaller and it does not have a couch. It does however have a large cushy chair. By large I mean me and him could obviously both sit in it, so I hopped on one side and he got music going and turned the lights off and did that whole, do I go sit on a bar stool, or go sit by my daughter on the cushy chair moment. He decided to sit next to me, said, “This chair is big enough for both of us”, sat down and said, “see, we fit”. It was totally dark, the doors were shut and the music was loud and sounded perfect because one thing my Dad DOES know is surround sound. I noticed very very quickly that he had is left arm tucked very very tightly under his right under arm. I knew immediately that he was not sure if he should be touching me. Like I said, we are still working on reconnecting, plus he probably knows by now I have trouble with physical contact. He held that arm so tight to keep it from even gracing my arm. Because of this, my immediate response was to tuck me hands together and to the left so that I did not brush against him as well. The music played on, I enjoyed it, not just cause some of those songs were damn good, but also cause it had been so so many years since we had done this. The space between us would have made MICAH (My horrible Christian school I went to all through High school) because we obeyed the “6 inch rule” perfectly. My old school said you should be able to fit a Bible between you and the opposite sex. Well trust me in this one chair, there could have been a Bible between us. But just about 6 songs later, he began to loosen up. Not completely, but slightly. He still had that left hand under the right arm, but it was less strained and eventually fabric was against fabric from both our arms. I can not remember what song was playing at that moment, I know it was country and Dad was amused because in that band there was a big black rapper and he did a little rap during a country song. Very quickly I could catch my self wanting to just lean over and snuggle with him, but I just could not. I can not say why exactly, it seemed like the right moment. But I just plain chickened out. So we listened to music until he got really hot. The room was particularly warm and he had on a sweater so we gave up and went upstairs. It was a damn good night. I hope to repeat it soon.