Weekend Warriors

Silly me thinking that this weekend was actually going to be just a father/son weekend. But here was the motive, tossed on the table in front me. Dad never went through my schoolwork, but this, the short story I had written landed right into his hands. Figures. Now here we are, a weekend in Michigan because he wants to talk about it.

He had picked me up from school yesterday, with two duffle bags packed with basics and we headed to this rustic cabin in the woods, owned by someone he knew who was stuck at a wedding this Labor Day weekend instead of here, where he had hoped to be. It has a small kitchen, with a dorm room style fridge, small microwave, and a cooktop. A small round table sat nearby between the kitchen and the living room. The bathroom and bedroom with two bunk beds were just off the living room. We had gone to the store last night and filled up the fridge, which wasn't hard to do, and put a few snacks in the cabinets. We had walked a little around the outside but it was dark and Dad wasn't familiar with the terrain so we didn't go far. But we both knew the lake wasn't far as we could hear the rustle of waves.

I don't know why I even wrote that story for my assignment. It just seemed to come out and now my dad took it as personal metaphor. As if.

"Care to tell me about this?" He asks as he looks at me while he sets the paper down on the table.

"Not really," I replied, trying to look disinterested and bored. "Can we check out the lake? You said we could after breakfast and I'm done," I said pushing my empty cereal bowl away to emphasize the point.

"Not until we talk about your story," he said, his eyes wide like they always were when he wanted to know something, a good indication that we were far from done.

I was no mood for this. He brought me here to get away from the city and explore Mother Nature only to keep me captive in this cabin. Or he just didn't want an audience while he drilled me. "I just want to go outside," I stated as I crossed my arms.

"We will. But first tell me about your story." He said as he looked across the table at me.

"You never check my homework. But this, this stupid story you find? No, Hailey found it and read it and told you to talk to me," I accused.

"I always check your homework." He replied quietly. "No, Hailey didn't find it. I read it and have some questions about it. I want to know how you are doing."

"You always check my homework?" I asked in disbelief. This was news to me. He must do it after I go to bed.

"I do. And I check your grades through the portal and e-mail your teachers. Why does that surprise you?"

I shrugged, simply because I didn't know what else to do or say. "Sorry I called you tired, cranky and absent." I said speaking of the wood chopping father from my story.

"Well I can be. I'm aware of that. But do really think I wouldn't care if you disappeared? That I wouldn't look for you?"

I knew the answer to his questions. I knew he cared, that he would move heaven and earth to find me or help me whenever I needed it, even if I had created my own disaster. I would never question his devotion to my well-being. But I still used his extended daily absences against him in an effort to feel sorry for myself.

I looked up at him, eyes expectant. "I know you would look for me. That you would come for me. And be mad if I took off."

"I'd be scared because I wouldn't know if you were safe. And you know that, which is why you went downtown that one night." He said reminding me of the time when I was around ten and was so upset that I took the L downtown alone. He checked my phone and tracked me down on the Riverwalk. I had tested him, he passed. In fact I tested him a lot, he almost always passed.

"Tell me about the witch in your story." He asked gently.

I sat there staring at the table. I was so done with this conversation, mostly because I had no idea what to say. Why did he care so much? I had no idea that he kept up with my work—that he actually did care this much. I guess he passed all the tests now. "It's not Hailey," I spit out speaking of the witch in the story. I know she tried and most days she was okay, but she wasn't my mom and nothing was going to make it so.

"I didn't think it was." He said softly, gazing at me.

We had already established it wasn't him, and I knew he was already aware who the witch represented. I could tell he wanted to ask me if the witch represented my mom or better yet, that I would just say it. Of course she was the witch but he wanted me to say it first. But I couldn't. "I'm going outside," I announced and stood up and headed for the door. But in order to get there I had to pass by Dad and when I did he reached out and grabbed my arm.

"Liam, sit down. I told you when we were done talking we would go outside."

"But I am done talking!" I screamed much louder than I intended.

"Well I'm not," he replied, his voice still calm, but firmer. "Now sit down," he directed as he let go of my arm. He was used to people doing exactly what he asked when he was talking to them. Mostly they didn't have a choice, and neither did I, not really. But it felt as if all my emotions were going to burst out of my chest and I just didn't know what would happen if they did.

With my arm free I just continued towards the door. I heard one step, then two or three more behind me and then hands on me, suddenly I was lifted up and set on the chair I had abandoned only a minute before. He squatted down in front of me and looked me in the face. My response was to cross my arms and look away. We were locked in a battle, one I knew I couldn't win but was determined to try. Many, maybe even most parents would have given up by now, or let go and tried again later, but not my dad, nope, one track mind in interrogation mode.

Still squatting in front of me he looked at me as he let go of my arms and put his hands on my legs. "It's going to be okay son."

He opened his mouth to say more but that's when I burst. "No it's not! It's not going to be alright. I bet she never even thinks about me." I yell speaking of my mother.

"I don't think that's true. I believe that she thinks about you all the time." He responded, knowing exactly who I was talking about. She was always in the corner of every room we were in; silent, but there nonetheless.

"I think about her every night before I fall asleep. Did you know that!?" I yelled, as if it was his fault he couldn't read my mind or be privileged enough to know what went on in my head. But he remained calm.

"No, I didn't know that. What is she doing when you think about her?"

"I don't know," I replied wondering where this new parenting skill and calmness had come from. "She's just there. I know she won't come back. She won't ever come back."

"Probably not." He admitted.

"She won't," I confirmed. "And even if she did, you married Hailey. There's no place for her anymore!"

Dad took a big breath and let go of me and sat down on the floor in front of me as if I had knocked him over. "Son, your mother and I—" he began.

"You never loved each other did you?"

He took a moment, his eyes blinking, looking off somewhere in the distance. He finally cleared is throat and spoke. "We did. But it was a complicated love. Her history that I knew nothing about. My deployment and returning with PTSD. It just wasn't the time to begin a relationship. Or even try to. Liam, when I came back I was a mess. You won't remember, because you were so young, just a baby. But I'm ashamed to say it took me months to come see you."

"Didn't you want to?" I asked, shaken with this news.

"I did and I didn't. I was so scared."

"Of me?"

"In a way, yes."

"I was just a baby, how could have been scared?"

"Because, I wasn't in a good place. I was angry about what I had been through in Afghanistan, and I just wasn't ready to handle the normal world yet. I knew I wasn't ready to be a civilian and nowhere near ready to be a father."

"Oh," I said quietly.

"But your mother, somehow without pushing me too fast or hard, pulled me in and made you a part of my life. She seemed to know when I was ready. But a new baby and a new relationship would have been too much, and she knew that too. You were her priority."

I sat quietly breathing in and out and thought about what he had said. He had never shared much about his history in the service or his deployments and I knew it took a lot for him to admit what he just did.

"She loved you that much." He said looking up at me. "Leaving you was the hardest thing she ever had to do. I have no doubt in my mind of that."

"That's why she wanted me to think she was dead?"

"Yes. She wanted you to have closure and never have to think for one second that she—well that there was a possibility of her coming back. Or for you to feel that she was abandoning you each and every day. She loved you so much. So I have no doubt that she thinks about you all the time."

"Even if you married Hailey?"

"What I do or don't do, has nothing to do with her love for you. Even if she did find out that I am married now, it has nothing to do with her love for you."

I sat and thought about what he said, trying to digest it all. "I can barely remember what she sounds like or the words to the song that she used to sing to me every night."

"I know. But you will always feel her in your heart." He promised.

"I guess," I sighed. Then I remembered something that I had recently read and asked about it. "What does it mean if you love somebody enough you set them free?"

"It means that even though you love them, that your presence in their life will cause more harm than good, that you can accept that their life will be better and safer if you step away, even though it will hurt so much to have to say goodbye and stay away. She loved you more than you can imagine. More than can ever be described."

"You think so?" I asked, my eyes blurring with tears.

"I know so."

Jay

Later that night I sat and watched the shadows play across my son's face as he stuck another marshmallow into the fire. I still marveled how much I loved this kid. I couldn't believe it was even possible. "Last one," I told him as he groped for the graham crackers and chocolate. I had set his limit at two, but he talked me into a third one. I usually didn't cave to his sugary desires, but it had been such a good day, after a rocky start that I just couldn't tell him no.

I could tell he was still unsure about my new parenting style and actually so was I. The seed had been planted several days ago and this was the perfect time to try it out. I, well, we, owe it to Hailey. Liam had snapped at her, a rude comment that she didn't deserve and the fact that he refused to apologize was the catalyst. I felt as if he wanted to accept, even embrace Hailey, but he just couldn't seem to let go of his final reservations. Which I wasn't aware of until today.

After his earlier remark I had demanded an immediate apology that he refused to give. I took his arm and leaned down harshly whispering to him that it wasn't a request. I never tolerated defiance and disrespect, not from him or anyone really. Maybe I got that from my father, or maybe I got it from being a cop, but I wasn't capable of allowing it in my home. Even if it meant the ensuing battle ended up being bigger than the original sin. Not great parenting, getting into a pissing contest with a child, but I hadn't had the best example as a child. My father only was ever intent on winning the conflict, not using it as a fact finding or teaching moment.

Anyway, he refused and I quickly ushered him into his room where after significant threats of no electronics and being grounded did he acquiesce and apologize to Hailey. That night as she rubbed my tense shoulders she suggested that perhaps trying to find out what was spurring his behavior might help curb it. It made sense, I'm sure it had occurred to me at one time, but never in the heat of battle and never for long. So when I was checking his backpack for his work and came across his short story, it seemed like the time to see what was going on with him because clearly it was something.

In the end, it came easier than I expected and had worked out well. I discovered Hailey was right, getting to the bottom of the attitude and finding out what was driving it was much more satisfying than just threatening and carrying out a punishment. His animosity towards Hailey stemmed from his fear that since we had gotten married, there was no room for any possibility that his mother would return. He had always held out hope that she would come back, because, in his mind, if she truly loved him, she would. He finally seemed to understand the situation was larger than any of us and she had done her best and had done everything out of love for him.

For the remainder the day we explored the woods, talked about the frogs and fish we saw, and all the birds we had heard and witnessed. We spoke of how seventh grade was hard, but his math teacher was pretty. We shared how confusing it was to love someone and yet be so mad at them and what they did. I told him that he could tell me anything and that we would always figure it out together, and he actually seemed to entertain the offer. As the night wound down and we stared at the fire, marshmallow still on his lips he leaned into me from his spot on the ground and told me he loved me and that he was glad I found somebody to love.

I felt an avalanche of emotion that nearly brought tears to my eyes. I just couldn't imagine not being a father, not having this kid in my life. "I love you," I told him, my hand landing on the top of his head, the emotion flooding me.

"I know you do. You tell me and you show me. Sometimes it's just hard when you aren't there to say it or show it because of work. Sometimes I get mad work gets you more than I do. And because I can't tell Mom that I'm mad at her because she isn't there at all. But I have Hailey now and I think she likes me." He said turning back to look at me.

"She does son, a whole lot." I assured him.

"Just because she loves you."

"Well you're pretty lovable too."

"Not always, but I'll try to do better." He promised, his eyes sincere.

"I love hearing that. I have no doubt that you will be the best." He smiled and turned back towards the fire as I thought about how much his mother's absence continued to affect him and how much harder I had made his life by prioritizing everything but him.