My Father

Daniel:

As the early morning rays of the sun spilled in through the massive windows of the Foster home, one might’ve expected the picturesque scene would carry with it the sound of chirping birds and a cheery family greeting worthy of a ’50s television program. The suburban house was the quintessential staple of the American Dream. From an outward glance, the home would suggest a life of peace and a family breakfast taking place around the kitchen table. Such a person was not familiar with the Foster family morning routine.

“DANIEL JOSEPH FOSTER!”

His dad’s voice rang throughout the house, and at such a high volume he was slightly surprised the noise didn’t rattle the hanging photographs in the hallway. Daniel had been listening to his playlist of remixes, but even at full blast, his headphones couldn’t overcome his father’s voice. He wasn’t sure if there had ever been a military drill sergeant or Persian general who could scream like his father. If his dad got any louder, the neighbors would start filing noise complaints. David’s voice carried with it a presence Daniel had long ago learned to be weary of. His dad only had two volumes: silent or full blast. There was no in-between.

Add in the fact dad was using his middle name, and it was a recipe that spelled disaster. For longer than he could remember, Daniel had learned to associate his full name with intimate danger. He had no idea who had invented middle names, but it had to be someone who wanted to instill fear in their child. Not once had someone used his middle name outside of his dad, and it was never a good sign. Actually, any conversation with his dad these days was guaranteed to suck balls; so Daniel wasn’t entirely sure if it would’ve sounded the same coming from someone else or not.

As if David’s scream had initiated a timer counting down to an explosion, Daniel forced himself into action. He sprang out of his bed like a gymnast. While the metal springs were still rebounding from the sudden motion, he hurriedly stuffed his books into his bag. He had it over his shoulder in a second and bit off another piece of his morning toast. If his dad was shouting his middle name first thing in the morning, it meant the old man was beyond pissed. Normally they were safe until at least the afternoon. Daniel mentally ran through a list of what he could’ve done recently that might of set his father off.

He was failing math, but he’d explained the teacher never updated their online grades on time—which was technically true. He likely was still failing math, but they didn’t have to know that yet. He’d partied at Frankie’s house until 2 in the morning, but he didn’t think anyone had heard him slip back into the house. He’d ditched last period the other day… Would the school call home over something like that? Surely they didn’t care enough about a student being absent to call up their parents… right?

Any of these were a worthy excuse for his dad to engage in his favorite pastime: a lengthy and repetitive lecture. But Daniel couldn’t think what would have him screaming this early in the morning. His bedroom doorknob jiggled and Daniel felt as if it were his very lifeline threatening to give way under the force of David’s grip. Still he was prepared to stand his ground. That was until his father opened his bedroom door, holding the box Daniel kept under the bed. Daniel’s heart plummeted and for a long second he felt as if time itself had stopped.

If he’d been born in another family nothing in the box would be worth making a stink about. He had some money, a usb drive with a few passwords stored on it, a rubix cube, and two freshly rolled joints he’d planned on smoking that weekend. David held up the joints as his face flushed red. Daniel had idly wondered before if an artist could’ve made a picture from all the shades of red David could show in his face. Now it was practically a rich purple. It allowed the veins throbbing in his temples to show themselves more vibrantly.

“Dad! It’s not what you think!” he started. “Why are you searching my room?”

“This is my house.”

His father had an unending list of pet peeves: don’t wear shoes in the house, don’t wear clothing with dark symbols, don’t listen to violent music, don’t stay out to late. Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t practically became their household mantra. Daniel could still remember the overlong speech he’d gotten for using God’s name “in vain.”

“It’s my room dad! What I keep in here is private!”

“It stops being private when you bring drugs into my house!”

Behind his father’s frame, Daniel could see his younger sister walk out of her bedroom. Mary was three years younger than him and they’d never exactly gotten along well. Most of the time they just stayed out of each others way. Daniel was never sure exactly what it was that made his dad such a tight-ass, but for some reason it seemed like David always came down harder on him than his sister. Not that either of them were ever truly out of his crosshairs.

David turned around and got one glance at her outfit. Honestly, Daniel didn’t see what the big deal was. Her clothes weren’t particularly provocative or revealing. Sure, it wasn’t what someone might call classy, but really she was just dressed like any other teenage girl. Granted, their dad didn’t hear half the rumors the school held about Mary’s “extra-curricular” activities, but Daniel had been trying to forget those whispers since they’d first reached his class.

“Please tell me that’s not what you’re wearing,” said the older man: half-pleading, half-chastising his daughter.

“Dad!” she groaned, drawing the word out into three syllables. “This is how girls my age dress. You’re so old-fashioned.”

“Modesty never goes out of style,” David said, almost instinctively.

In spite of the found drugs, Daniel wasn’t particularly worried. His father was a shouter and might ground them, but he wasn’t a brute. He could be strict enough to shock a Texan, but he would never hurt them or do lasting damage to their social life. Most likely, Daniel would be grounded for a few weeks and have to consent to having his room searched regularly. That was no big deal. He’d just start sneaking out and hide his stash somewhere else. It wasn’t hard.

“Another great quote from the list of dadisms,” said Daniel, drawing his father’s attention back on him.

Daniel met David’s gaze, determined not to blink or back down. He would beat the old man on this, just because someone should. What surprised him was the look on his father’s face. There wasn’t anger or rage in David’s eyes. Instead he just saw how tired the old man was.

So much the better for me, he thought.

“What in the world am I supposed to do with you?” David asked, and Daniel wasn’t sure if he was actually asking a question, or asking God again.

His dad did that a lot. Sometimes in the middle of the day he’d just start talking to God. He didn’t even bow and pray like the other church freaks, but he just started talking as if God were in the room with him. He hoped David didn’t do that in public, but he probably did. Wasn’t talking to invisible people a sign of insanity?

“How about joining people in this year, dad?! Weed’s legal in half the country and no one actually believes in God anymore. You’re a relic devoted to a dead religion.”

David dropped Daniel’s box on his desk and went to the bathroom. A few seconds later, Daniel heard the flush of the toilet and was sure his joints were now lost to the sewage system.

“Dad! That’s seriously uncool!”

He was readying himself for another shouting match, but one didn’t come. Instead David went soft, and Daniel didn’t know what to expect.

“No,” said David as he returned, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “What’s ‘uncool’ is you using that stuff in the first place! What’s wrong with you? I keep trying to talk to you and you keep shutting me out. I’m honestly lost, son. I don’t know what to do anymore. What is it that you need so bad?!”

Daniel pushed past his father’s frame and started down the stairs.

“I need you to stay out of my life!” he shouted as he walked out the front door towards where his best friend, John, was parked and waiting for him.

As Daniel got into the car, he felt the vehicle shift just slightly under the increase in weight. John turned the radio down and looked up, curiously. John was pretty good at intuiting when Daniel was frustrated. Granted, with David shouting like a madman it was entirely possible he’d heard every word.

“Your old man going nuts again?” he asked.

“When isn’t he? He found my stash and trashed it.”

John gave a noise of disgust.

“Weak! Well, I got some at the pool house, man. We can chill there after school.”

Daniel smiled and fist bumped him before John started to put the car in drive.

“Thanks man. I owe you one.”

“You owe me a dozen, at least.”

John turned the radio back up, which was featuring alternative tracks from about ten years ago. Still, the music was solid and Daniel didn’t have any complaints. John maneuvered onto highway 94 and flew down the street, passing people who were likely on their way to their morning shift.

Daniel liked John’s car. It was a cherry-red 2015 Sebring convertible and John babied the thing; so it was constantly beautiful and in great shape. Daniel could still remember how stoked John had been when he’d first bought it. Ever since then he’d been their group’s designated driver, whether they were partying or not. John and he were practically brothers, and had been through more than their fair share of trouble together. It was almost as natural as breathing. Where one went, the other would soon follow.

Back when they were fifteen, they’d borrowed a car for a joyride around town. It wasn’t anything that bad and it was all good fun until a police car had pulled up behind them. In the end, they hadn’t been pulled over; but both were furiously focused on the road. John had clenched the steering wheel with a death grip until they’d turned from the main road and the police car had gone on past them.

They rode together, partied together, and if one of them was in a fight the other would jump in to defend them no questions asked. It was also an unspoken rule between them to hang out at John’s place instead of Daniel’s. David was highly against their friendship. Granted, the old man was against half the things in Daniel’s life.

David had given a half-dozen excuses for it, but in the end Daniel was pretty sure that David just wanted him to fall in line and shut up. If it wasn’t for their mom, David probably would’ve run their home like a military training base. He was as stereotypical as it was possible for a white suburban father to be. He went to church twice a week, and for many years had insisted that his children did too. Once Daniel had turned thirteen, mom had made church a choice and Daniel couldn’t opt out fast enough.

He’d never really bought into David’s whole religious stick. God just didn’t make logical sense in a world like theirs and most of America was finally catching up to that way of thinking. Europe had known it for years, and now the western world was starting to see the same thing. It was just the few of the dinosaurs—like David—who wouldn’t budge on the issue even if you shoved a gun in their face.

To be fair, he wasn’t as insane as some of the stereotypes. He didn’t go banging on people’s doors at six in the morning, or shouting protests at people who got an abortion. But Daniel had to live with the man. David was determined to run a Christian household. Even though he was alone in this faith in a made up God, he hadn’t back down one ounce.

Even his mom, Sheila, didn’t really buy into God like David did. She didn’t go to church with him anymore either. If David was working late, she didn’t wait up or encourage them to pray before a meal. Sheila was generally far more passive than her husband, at least when it came to what other people did. She got fairly obsessed with a different fad a couple times a month or so before inevitably dropping it. David was the only guy Daniel even knew that was so devoted to the old practices, though he never fully understood why. Maybe it gave his old man a purpose, or some semblance of normality. Maybe it was just because he was afraid of the change.

Still, Daniel was his own person and didn’t feel the need to conform to his father’s beliefs. When he was a kid he’d been through all the Sunday school lessons and he’d even accepted them. Once he’d grown older though, it made no sense. There was just no way someone could raise people from the dead or survive in the stomach of a fish for three days or be born to a virgin woman. It was just complete nonsense.

Besides if God were real, he could at least prove himself. But he didn’t. In the Bible, God did miracles all the time but not anymore. By the time the pair of them reached the school, they only had six minutes before first period, but Daniel was glad for the distraction. He needed something he could focus his mind on. As he passed by a small group of his friends, John nodded to him and Daniel waved briefly before heading off to his typing class. It didn’t matter much anyway; soon he’d be on his own and he wouldn’t have to worry about his father’s insanity anymore.