Monday, June 11, 2007

You And Your Dad Find A Box Full Of Hashish And Some Money Day!

“I’m really glad we’re doing this, Dad,” you say. “It’s been hard for me since Stacey left. She told me I’m one of the ones that just gets thrown away, and I’d better get used to it. Honestly, I haven’t felt so helpless since I was a little kid waiting for you or mom to tuck me in.”

“Hey look, a box of hashish!” your Dad says, pointing out the window.

It’s an open box, like a high-walled lunch tray, sitting in the leaves on the ground. The five bags it holds must contain fifteen or twenty thousand dollars worth of hashish. There’s also a handful of hundred dollar bills.

“Here,” your Dad says, handing you the money. “I want you to have this.”

You mumble, “Thanks.” Your Dad is sorting through the drugs. You’ve seen that look in his eyes before. He’s adding up numbers, probably comparing the value of those drugs to whatever expenses he’s been trying not to face.

“You need to get yourself back on your feet,” your Dad says. “So your wife’s gone. Come on! Get back in action!”

He’s saying goodbye. This is the way he does it. He starts throwing out some quick advice, trying to cram in some fatherly-ness before vanishing. Then he finds the back door and you hear from him again when the decade turns.

“I’m gonna go take a leak,” he says. Then he gets out of the truck and just starts walking through the woods. You watch him stumble over rocks and underneath branches for about ten minutes. Then he’s too far away. He’s gone.

You sit there in the truck for a while, enjoying the woods. You got to see your Dad for part of an afternoon. No matter how it ended, you got that much. When the drug dealers come by looking for their stash and they ask you if you know who took it, you point them in the opposite direction of where your Dad headed. They thank you kindly. “You’re one of the good ones,” the drug dealers say.

Happy You And Your Dad Find A Box Full Of Hashish And Some Money Day!