An evening ride with Dad

“He already had two beers?” I asked my brother.

“Three, actually.” He stretched with his shovel in hand.

“Ahead of the schedule, aren’t we?” I said.

It was noon, and the sun went just above our heads and hit hard and hot. You could smell your skin burning, but we had to finish as we wanted to come home tomorrow. We didn’t want to spend more time than needed at our farm. Dad helped a lot, he did a job for two men, digging and working in the field while we were young and not so strong. But sometimes Dad was no help.

I could see him talking on his phone, arguing and smoking. I didn’t hear his words, only his angry voice.

We had a break under the tree when he came to check on us, having a fresh bottle. It’s funny how you can see the consequences but still crave that cold and tasty beer on a hot summer day after six hours of hard work. We had our water, though, wasn’t too bad.

After lunch, we came back and continued until the evening came and then Dad came.

“Let’s go for a ride,” he said.“Where to?” I felt trouble. I always did. It’s in his voice. He walked quickly, for no one to notice his waving steps. With years, I’ve learnt to understand his drunk steps only by hearing them. By how he puts his key into the keyhole, the way he puts off his shoes.

“I’ll show you where,” Dad said.

I love to drive, and when you are sixteen years old, you take every chance to drive a car, but that day I knew it was not gonna be a pleasant drive. Usually, we ended up at the grocery store. He had some more, and we drove home. But this time, he of course did have some more, but then he pointed out another turn, out of the village.

I felt trouble again.

“Where are we going?” my brother asked. He sat behind me alone and saw where we were going.

“Going to work. You know where Chumak’s house is,” dad answered.

We were helping Dad with his construction work in the nearest village. There was a big farmer who wanted to build a house, a guest house, a garage, and all that stuff rich people need. He was a good guy, Chumak. Everyone called him by his last name for some reason and I don’t even know his first name. His wife always gave us some sandwiches when we helped our dad. Hard work, but nice people.

“Dad, you are drunk and it’s late. How can we work now?” I asked.

“I’ll work reeeeal quick,” he said. He was smiling, but I felt trouble again. My stomach twisted.

“What do you mean? What are we gonna do?”

“I’m gonna beat the shit out of him and you two are gonna help me with it,” he said.

Here we go. Troubles.

“Why? What happened?” I asked. Driving was always a challenge on the village roads. Well, you barely could say roads, with all those potholes. But I was good with it and knew how to drive without ruining the car. That day it was especially challenging even to change gears with my wet palms.

“He didn’t pay for the last time, and the one before that. Sometimes you need to work a bit harder to get what is yours. I’ll teach you.”

On an occasion like this, I knew that talking him out of it wouldn’t work. Been there before. After all these years, I just started to think about the opponent in the fight. He was a big one, the opponent. I know my father was strong, but he was also twice smaller than Chumak. And I didn’t want to fight him. I knew there was a way to talk it out, only if I got to Chumak first. Brother was silent. He was always ready to fight, no matter what, even knowing he was two years younger than me. But I was always considered a coward by my dad’s standards.

“Hit first,” he always said, “and make sure you hit last.” I never understood that and never followed that advice. I rarely took part in any fights, only when I had no choice, and I always got the first hit. It helped a lot to find courage to hit back, but I was never a first hitter.

“Let’s turn some music.” He turned on a car radio with a Depeche Mode disc inside. I hated it.`Enjoy the Silence.` This was my drunk father’s anthem. He made it very loud. Till these days, this song makes me nauseous.

We arrived at the big house. Part of it was ready, but the guest house and garage were still in the construction process. On the driveway, there were a few cars already.

“They are having guests,” I said.

“Let’s say hi,” said my father.

I knew this place well. I’d spent my last few months there, but when I tried to park, I stalled. Legs were shaking. Father didn’t even notice and came out of the car. I set the handbrake and quickly went out of the car. The gate was open, and I came first.

“Where is my lighter?” Dad asked.

“In the car,” I heard my brother's answer. “You used it there.”

I went through the gate and tried to walk really quick, not even knowing what I would do.

I saw people sitting at a table, laughing louder than the music that was playing. I saw Chumak’s wife with drinks approaching me.“Even she could fight my dad,” I thought. She was tall, and years living on a farm made her strong.

“He’s drunk and wants his money back,” I said. She didn’t say anything else but turned her head, trying to find her husband.

“Take this and give it to them.” She gave me bottles of vodka, so cold I could barely hold them.

I saw Dad with a cigarette in his mouth. My brother ran to me.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“Truth,” I answered. “What else could I say?”

“And what did she say?”

“She wasn’t talking much.”

We brought bottles, said hi, and I kept watching my father and Chumak’s wife talking. He was paying attention. She then invited my dad to the table where he knew everyone, and everyone knew him. They started drinking.

“Will you guys help me with food?” she asked. We went with her to the kitchen.

“Take this and don’t show your father until tomorrow.” She gave me a pack of money. “Hide it, and go to your car. He will be with you soon.”

“Thank you so much,” we said.

“Take him home and don’t make any stops. He won’t notice by now.”

We went to the car, and I turned to see that my father was saying his goodbyes. On the second-floor window, I saw Chumak. He winked. I smiled.

“What is her name?” I asked my brother.

“You know I’m bad with names,” he said.

“She saved the day, and we don’t even know her name.”

“Will ask next time,” my brother said.

Dad sat in the car and turned on the music again, but I didn’t feel any troubles now.