My Daddy "The Fonz"

Chapter 10/Part 3: It was only a Dream

Fonzie's POV:

Uck. Just... Uck. I'll never be doin' that again any time soon. Waking up on the Cunninghams' upstairs daybed with still a searing migraine ain't at all what it's cracked up to be. And not to mention, the disapproving head shakes from all the adults last night, even Richie. It don't help none.

I decide to get up slowly and skulk to the mirror. Assess the damage ya know. I wonder—gah! Well, that's great. Suddenly this fuzzy memory becomes clear, hits me square in the nads—my kid saw me all a mess under that swing set. Now he's gonna think I'm some deadbeat like my dad was—and my mom for that matter. Why do I always do this? Why do I gotta make the good in my life turn sour? I wonder where he is...

I hear a soft knock on the door before I can get myself fully motivated to leave the room. "Hiya Fonz. Sleep well?"

I glance at the floor in shame as I realize that Richie—the guy who was there for my kid when I wasn't—is more a dad than I ever could be. And he ain't even no dad.

I stammer out a half-hearted "I guess."

Richie sighs and forces a cheesy smile. "Well, don't worry. I made sure Bobby got home safe. He's playing outside with Joanie now if you wanna see him. Although in your state—"

"In my state—what? Course I'll see him! I'm his dad for cryin' out loud!" I try to get on my feet, but that bottle of spirits from yesterday makes me feel the need to crawl like a stupid baby. (Okay maybe that was harsh but you catch my drift).

"Just gimme a minute." I grunt as I pull myself up from my knees with the bedside table.

Richie's smirk turns into a series of tittles.

I scowl at him. "It ain't funny."

Suddenly Richie's face turns serious. "I'm not laughing."

Oh no. Here comes the lecture. I put my hand up to shush him before he gets the chance. "Save it. I know. I will not be doing that again, alright? How's Bobs doin'—for real? He mad at me?"

Richie shakes his head. "No, but you've gotta stop this because he's beginning to emulate your bad habits. I caught him and your little cousin Spike with alcohol too. And you're the only one I can think of that would pose that example to them. That's far from cool, Fonzie. Seriously."

I let out all my breath. Defeated. "You're right. I'm no good." Suddenly the holes in my jeans take on a whole new level of interesting–and Red's red head and face disappears in my mind.

Richie comes toward me, but before I can protest his help, he yanks me up to my feet. Wow. He must've been working out recently. "You're good, Fonzie, but you gotta stop this. Before something even more major happens."

I shrug my friend off of my shoulder. "Okay, okay." I motion a picture frame. "I get the picture—now help me downstairs. I think I need to chat with my kid."

"Oh, I already chatted with him, if that's what you mean."

"No, I don't mean 'chat' as in punish. I mean an actual convo with the kid. I'm gonna promise him I won't touch alcohol no more. I'm gonna ask that he don't either, at least until he's grown."

Richie gives me a smile. "Good idea, Fonz."

Bobby's POV:

Well, finally I can have some fun with Joanie now that her "friend" Chachi left. And also my butt stopped hurting. That's good too. Richie really got strong. He really looks weak, but he's not. Not. At. All. Then after my punishment last night, Mrs. C got me some yummy cookies. That always makes me feel better about everything. Now, I'm just trying to have some fun. But I do hope Daddy's okay. He looked very sick under those swings. And I hope I NEVER see that dude Spike again. He's too crazy for me...Oh look! There's Daddy!

Daddy gives me a wiggly looking smile then races to me and gives me a huge hug! One of those hugs that makes it so you can't breathe at all. I had to pinch him to make him stop. He's so weird sometimes.

"Hey, why don't we go somewhere private, our apartment, to chat?" Daddy looks at me again with his wiggly face. I wonder what's wrong? Oh no. He's gonna punish me. Two punishments in two days. I'm a goner.

My eyes wanna drown with the tears. "Daddy, please no. Richie already had a 'chat' with me yesterday. I promise I learned my lesson. Pinkie promise, cross my heart, hope to die." I hide my face in Daddy's chest. I feel so bad about what me and that Spike kid did. I really, really do. "Daddy?"

Daddy rubs my back in circles. "It's okay, kid. Stop your cryin'. I won't spank you. Punishment's over. I just wanna actually talk. It's been a while. And I miss you so much. I love you." He kisses my cheek, and more tears start coming out.

"I love you too, Daddy."

Daddy wipes my cheeks with his hand. "Okay, let's go."

When we get to the apartment, he sets me down on the couch and grabs me some fresh lemonade. He's so sweet like Mrs. C sometimes. Almost like he's my Mommy too. My Mommy and my Daddy.

"Thank you."

We both sit side-by-side on the couch, and I sip on my lemonade.

"Uh uh, nope. I won't be having my cryin' kid sit beside me. He goes on my knee." Daddy swoops me up and holds me like a baby, bouncing me.

I start to laugh. "I'm not a baby."

He gives me another kiss and stops the bouncing, setting me on his knee fully. "I know that, but sometimes grown ups even need a cuddle to feel better."

"Do you ever get cuddles?" I ask. I try to picture my Daddy getting cuddled like a baby, and I laugh some more. That would be so silly.

Daddy blasts out a laugh. "No. I mean, not really. Not a 'normal' cuddle. More of a–special kind of active cuddle from chicks. Um...sort of like...nevermind. No, this guy doesn't need cuddles."

"Well, I think he does." And I squeeze him as tight as I possibly can. "Daddies need all the cuddles they can get–especially when I saw you under that swing. 'Member?"

"I wish I didn't." Daddy crinkles up his eyebrows. "I'm sorry, kid. I never should've done that, and you really never should of saw me like that...and you really really never should have copied me and drank alcohol like you did. I'm gonna have a talk with Spike too. Maybe more than just a talk if he keeps that up."

I get what he's saying. "Oh, a 'chat.'"

"Uh huh, yep. But anyways, point is–I promise to you that I will never touch alcohol again. 'Caus it can make you do some shi- I mean some awful things. You ain't in your right state of mind when you drink."

"Yeah, and everything gets all fuzzy. And you can't stand up. And headaches. Mrs. C had to give me some pain medicine today because of it."

"So no more drinking, eh?" Daddy stares at me for a long time. I guess he wants me to actually answer.

I shake my head until it almost falls off. "No, Daddy. Never. Ever. Again. Cross my heart."

"And I cross my heart too. But don't hope to die, okay? Alcohol can make you do that too."

"Okay," I say, giggling. "Wanna watch a movie? Are you gonna stay with me now? I don't gotta go to the Cunningham's for a few more days, do I?"

"Of course not. We can watch a movie, and I'm gonna stay put. Right here with you in my arms, kiddo. You and me forever. Sober."