Author's note: No, this story is not a sequel to "A Dysfunctional Summer". But please, enjoy it as much as you enjoyed that one. Please read and respond!

Daddy

Harold moped miserably on the couch in his family's living room, skin clammy, nose red and runny, and spirit down. Long story short, he was sick, and on the first day of Spring Break of all days. But that was only the first of his problems today. He looked miserably out the window to remind himself that even if he wasn't sick, he'd still be cooped up in the house against his will.

The weather today was dreadful. It was barely one o'clock in the afternoon, but the dark clouds that poured heavy raindrops onto the earth made it dark enough to look like it was nighttime. This was bittersweet for Harold. The gloomy weather added to Harold's unpleasant mood, but it helped him remember that he wasn't the only one in his class whose Spring Break plans had been ruined for the day. Arnold, Sid, Stinky, all of them practically forbidden to go outside because of the weather. At least none of them were as sick as dogs. Either way, this was no way to start Spring Break.

As Harold moped on the couch with only the characters on the TV for company, his father, Jerry, came into the room wearing a purple bathrobe over his blue pajamas and with a china teacup in his hand. The father and son shared a brief moment of eye contact, both looking indifferent. Harold was the first to break it. He slouched down so low in his seat that his neck became barely visible and quietly looked down at his stocking feet. Jerry approached his sick son and held out the filled teacup to him.

"Here, Son," he said. "Drink this."

Harold took the cup, which was hot at the touch, and looked down at the steaming, light brown liquid that filled it. Tea. He normally hated the stuff, mainly because it made him think of the lame tea parties Rhonda would often host, but given his current condition everything tasted horrible. So he accepted it.

"Thanks, Dad."

Harold said this quickly and without emotion, not because his stuffy nose, which he'd been blowing all day, made him sound dead. If anything, it was because he was trying to brush his father off. It wasn't that he had anything against Jerry per se. When Harold was hurt, sick, or in need of affection, there was only one person he would turn to, or else run screaming to. And right now, that one person was miles away.

Marilyn, Harold's mother, had left a few days ago to visit relatives. She wouldn't return for over a week. This, along with the weather, made Harold's sickness all the more depressing. With Marilyn gone, he had no company. He knew his father meant well, but he wasn't the same. Jerry tended to be judgmental and brutally honest with Harold on a variety of subjects; appearance, weight, intelligence, you name it. The last thing Harold needed at the moment was to be unfairly criticized. So he quietly sipped his tea and, without showing any hint of anger, refused to look his father in the eye again.

"Need anything else, Harold?" Jerry asked.

"No," Harold answered instantly.

After a moment's silence, Jerry spoke. "Alright then. I'll turn up the radiator a bit more so you won't be cold."

That wasn't completely necessary, the temperature was just fine. Harold was going to object, but then he remembered the cold, stormy weather outside.

"Okay, thanks," he replied.

Jerry left Harold alone with his TV program and made his way to the kitchen. He barely reached the doorway when, as if he'd suddenly been blinded, all of the lights that had been keeping the house lit turned off in the blink of an eye. Jerry froze where he was and Harold, despite being weak with sickness, screamed from shock. They could both hear that it wasn't just the lights that had shut off. Harold was now facing a blank, silent TV screen and the quiet rumbling of the radiator could no longer be heard.

"Dad, what happened?" Harold asked.

"It's okay, Son," Jerry assured. "It's just a blackout."

"Ah man," Harold sniffed. "As if they day couldn't get any worse. What are we gonna do?"

"Just lay down and keep resting," said Jerry. "I'll see if I can remember where your mother keeps the candles."

While Jerry searched for candles and matches, Harold did as he was told and tried to get some rest. He was tired and weak, but it was difficult for him to fall asleep under such unfortunate conditions. He'd always claimed to be brave, especially around his friends, but it was no secret that deep down he really scared easily. Darkness was one of his worst fears, along with thunder and lightning, and at that moment they all surrounded him. On top of that, with the radiator out, the room began to get increasingly cold. And who knew when the power would come back on? All the while, Marilyn wasn't there for him to cry to. Truly there was nothing that could make the situation better or worse for Harold. Sick or not, how could anyone rest in such conditions?

Before too long, Jerry returned and put as many candles around the room as possible. By the time they were all lit, including the menorah the Bermans had on the bookcase, it seemed to have make a bit of progress. There was light again in the living room. It was rather dim light, but it was light nonetheless.

"See, Harold?" Jerry asked. "Problem solved."

Harold was only half listening. By this point the room had become so cold that he was reduced to shivering in a fetal position. It didn't take Jerry long to notice this.

"You okay, Son?"

Harold, still unwilling to endure whatever judgmental comments his father had cooked up for him, replied, "Yeah, I'm fine."

Jerry didn't buy it. Even though Harold had always spent more time with Marilyn than he did with him, Jerry knew his son well enough to know when he was fine and when he wasn't. He took a seat next to Harold and tried to reason with him.

"Harold, please tell me the truth," he said. "You're not fine, you're sick. And you're pushing away the only person who's willing to help you feel better."

The stubborn teenager didn't want to admit it, but that statement actually caused him to stop shivering and listen.

"Look, I know in times like this you prefer to have your mother here," Jerry continued. "But that doesn't mean I can't still be here for you. After all, I am your father. And I care about you and love you just as much as your mother does. I admit at times I can be a little… well, critical of you…"

"A little?!" Harold thought.

"… But not when you're hurt, sick, or depressed. I just want to be a good dad and be there for my son. Is that too much to ask?"

Harold knew his father was probably expecting an answer, but he couldn't give one. He was too busy thinking about how, in retrospect, it wasn't very smart to push away someone who cared about him for such a silly and stupid reason.

"All I'm asking is that you give me a chance," said Jerry. "You don't really want to just mope around like this in the dark, cold, lonely, bored, and miserable, do you?"

That made perfect sense. Anything would be better than making his already lame start to Spring Break even lamer by depriving himself of someone who loved him.

"No, I guess not," admitted Harold.

Jerry chuckled. "I didn't think so."

Harold wasn't expecting what happened next. Jerry kicked off his slippers and pulled off his bathrobe. He looked a lot less warm in thin, blue pajamas and bare feet. Harold could only help but wonder why he would intentionally remove his warm robe and slippers when the house was so cold.

"Put these on," Jerry said, putting the robe on Harold's back and nudging the slippers closer to Harold's stocking feet. "They'll keep you warm."

Harold obeyed. Once he'd put on his father's nightclothes, he almost laughed. The robe and slippers were too big for him. The robe reached to his ankles and the sleeves were long enough to make him think his hands had disappeared.

"Better?" Jerry asked.

It really was much better. Harold still thought it was funny that the robe and slippers were too big for him, but at the same time he could only help but feel grateful. He felt much warmer now. It was like he was wearing a long blanket with sleeves.

"Actually, yeah," he replied. "Thanks, Dad."

Jerry responded with a smile and a wink.

It was at this point that Harold realized that he'd been wrong and Jerry had been right. It really wasn't fair for him to push his father away so cold-heartedly. He felt guilty about rejecting his father the way he had. He should've known Jerry would never speak ill of him while he was sick. No decent parent would do that.

Yet at the same time, Harold was willing to let bygones be bygones and to give Jerry the chance that he deserved. For the first time in ages, Harold leaned against his father and allowed him to hug him. It was like nothing he'd ever felt yet it was everything he'd ever imagined, fatherly love that is. The grip of Jerry's stocky arms was firm but gentle and his chest was broad with a masculine sort of warmth that made it the perfect spot for Harold to lay his head on. To put it simply, it was like he was in Heaven.

From that moment on, nothing else in the world mattered to Harold. He couldn't care less about being sick, or about the storm, or the power outage, or even that his mom wasn't there. All that mattered to him was his father's love and that, even if his mother was gone, someone would always be right by his side. And next time, he wouldn't push them away when they tried to get close to him.

At that moment, only one word was on Harold's mind, a word that defined love and loyalty. He could only help but say it out loud.

"Daddy."

Jerry heard him and replied with a kiss on the forehead. Harold chuckled at the ticklish sensation that Jerry's moustache left.

The End