Dad

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by 2012LRDM

by 2012LRDM

December 17, 2021,

Dads.

You gotta love 'em, right?

Not exactly.

My dad's different.

He has anger management problems no matter how much he denies it. Other people act so chill around their dads. They joke around, it's never awkward between them, and they barely fight.

With me, it's just like how his best friend described it: Whenever they walk into a room, the laughter stops.

What else do they expect?

Whenever someone has a little fun, they have to be the bearer of bad news and ruin everyone's fun. This morning, there was a bug on my wall, and I couldn't reach it, so I called my dad. I just wanted him to kill the bug, but apparently, that was a perfect time for a lecture, or specifically a screaming lecture.

That's what I don't understand.

There's a moment when he's saying that I'm going to out best all the other Brook's, that I'll be #1 and that I'm the perfect replica of the daughter he imagined having.

Then there's a moment when he's screaming his head off asking me if I'm stupid, and slapping his head asking me if I'm serious.

Then he's knocking down doors asking if I'm okay because he heard something.

Then he's breaking my headphones because I didn't respond when he called me.

The point is, he's a confusing man.

Once, we were eating dinner together, and we got to talking about when I was a kid. This was around the time I was taking the 4-times-a-day-for-10-days pill. My dad recalled a time when I was so little I was still in my home country, and I wouldn't take a pill; a capsule. He said he went crazy from trying to make me swallow it.

My dad asked me if I remembered it.

I said no.

I lied.

I remember it. It's a little fuzzy, but the shapes and basics are there. I was on our kitchen counter, and my mom and dad were both there trying to explain how to do it.

Rather loudly.

They put the pill in my mouth and made me sip some water, but since I was scared, I spit it out in my dad's hand. My dad screamed some kind of profanity and threw the pill with an excessive amount of force, and it landed under the fridge. I immediately started crying, and as my dad stormed off, my mom comforted me.

But then I remember the time it was snowing beautifully, and my dad took me out, got me some donuts and hot chocolate, and we went for a walk that may have included a snowball fight.

One moment, he's the best dad I could ever ask for.

The next, I want to switch.

But, no matter what, in the end, he's still my dad.

Signing out,

Melissa A. Brook