Different colored minds

He says he doesn't need a therapist

MAVERICK POV

I figured out what it is that made me care about joe. It's because he's like my dad. I'm sitting across from him at the table. My dad looks up at me. My dad has never been a soft kind of guy. In fact for most of his life my dad was a very bitter and angry man. But his anger came from a very tragic past so for a while my mother and I endured it. Then one day, my mother couldn't take it anymore. She told him if he didn't change she would leave him. And although it's been years he still fights it at times. But he also knows he loves our family. And I know deeper than anyone else he wants to be nothing but a good man.
"Do I have something on my face?" My dad asks. I chuckle.
"No dad. I was just thinking. We playing pickle ball this weekend?" My dad looks up surprised.
"Sure." I don't get to spend enough time with my dad and since my dad is a very time oriented human being thats hard on him. He loves being a dad. He loves sharing what he loves. And I think he just doesn't have someone at his back to say his dreams are worth pursuing. It's not that I think my mom doesn't do a good job, I think she does a wonderful job. It's more that my father doesn't know how to enjoy some of the things she enjoys and vise versa. Which is I guess why I exist. To bridge the gap.
"Have you been making many friends at school?" My dad asks.
"I actually did make one. His name's Joe." My dad looks over curiously.
"Joe? You mean football joe that lost his leg?" My dad is flabbergasted. "And why is that? He's always seemed like a jerk to me."
I laugh internally. It's because he's like a younger you.
"I don't know. I just keep getting this feeling like I'm supposed to."
"Divine intervention?" My dad laughs. I nod.
"Rough. Well probably not a good idea to go against fate. Never know what could happen," he adds. My dad's never talked to me about what he believes. We celebrate Christmas. And sometimes my mom goes to church. But other than that. He's never talked much about it. Which makes me all the more curious about it. Every time I've tried to have him dig deeper he always says,"it doesn't matter. I'll figure it out on my death bed." Or "maybe it's better if he doesn't exist. It really might be best to be flung into the ground and just stay there. Would be nice to have the peace and quiet. Not to mention the quality alone time."
My mom will call him "George," when he makes those kind of skeptical remarks. Sometimes she'll give him a punch on the arm. He always shrugs it off with a smile.
"If god wants me he knows where to find me." He laughs. I think my mom used to try and persuade him to come to church. One time I even heard them fighting over it. But my dad won't go. He lets me go if I want to though. But it always makes me curious. why doesn't he want to talk about it?

And that's the trait I see in joe.

The propensity to stuff things down and pretend they're okay. To deal with trauma on his own. I've watched it destroy my dad's younger years and my own. I won't have someone else walk down that path without warning them at least.

My dad lost too many people because no one sat him down to say he's wrong. Everyone walked away. I know it's tiring being around someone that constantly takes, but everyone feels that way about them. If no one stands up to be there for them and show them love, they will never change. They will never get better. That is what keeps this machine rolling. Love.

And some would add money. Maybe it's money.

"Hey dad, wanna go fishing this weekend?" I ask.
My dad blinks.
He doesn't love much, but my dad loves fishing.
The rest of my siblings gave up on him after our past. I think they didn't see a way forward past the trauma. I know I have a limit too. I guess I'll just have to pray my willpower to love him out ways his failures.
Only time can tell if it'll be enough.
If all of this work is worth it.
Only time knows.
Only God knows.
Or for my dad, only fate.