Love & Letters

Don't Wake Daddy Ch. 02

Perhaps my earliest memory was seeing my father walking down the hall late at night in a zombie-like state. Every night I would hear strange noises in the hall, and being a curious child, one night I decided to investigate. I got up and walked over to my bedroom door and stealthily opened it a crack. There was my tall handsome athletic father walking slowly down the hallway as if in a trance. His eyes were open, but he was unseeing.

My mother came out of their bedroom in her silky lacey nightgown and followed silently close behind him. When daddy got to the top of the staircase, my mother touched his arm. Slowly he turned and gazed through her. His hand came up and began stroking the fabric of her nightgown. Then when he had tightly clutched the silky material, my mother began to back down the hall to their bedroom. He followed her, not seeming to know where he was going or what he was doing. Then my mother would close the bedroom door, and I would get back into my own bed wondering what I had just witnessed.

I guess I was about ten years old, when my mother took me aside one day to explain everything to me.

"If you ever get up at night to go to the bathroom, and you see your father in the hall, you must be very quiet. Don't say a word."

"Why not?" I questioned.

"Daddy has a medical condition," she explained. "Somnambulism. Sleepwalking. He walks in his sleep."

"He walks in his sleep?" I laughed. "That's silly. You can't walk in your sleep."

"Some people walk in their sleep," mommy explained. "And you must be very, very careful not to wake them. It could be very dangerous. They could have a heart attack and die. And we don't want daddy to die, do we?"

"No," I agreed. I certainly did not want my daddy to die. My heart fluttered inside my chest. I felt fear. I loved my daddy so much. I had to be very careful never to wake him.

"So remember," mommy emphasized. If you ever see daddy walking in his sleep, remember. Don't wake daddy. Promise me?"

"I promise," I said, and crossed my heart.

In those days, mommy and daddy loved each other so much. Every day was like Christmas or a birthday. He was always bringing home presents for mommy. Beautiful packages. But it's funny. He always bought the same thing. Never flowers or candy. Never jewelry. Never perfume. Mommy would open the box and pretend to be surprised. "What a beautiful nightgown." She would lift the negligee and hold it in front of her. "Oh, Lance. Such a beautiful nightgown," she would always say.

"I can't wait to see it on you," he would always say. Then he would start feeling the fabric. He really loved nightgowns.

"Look, Kenny," Mommy would say to me. "Isn't this a beautiful nightgown daddy bought mommy?"

"Yes," I would answer.

"Come over here, Kenny," Daddy would say. "Feel mommy's nightgown." I would start running my fingers over it. "Isn't that silky. Doesn't that feel nice?" Daddy would ask me.

"Yes," I would agree. It felt nice, all right, but not that great.

As the years went on, however, I could see that my mother was tiring. Every night she would be up walking the halls with him. Making sure he didn't wake up, didn't bump into a wall, didn't fall down the stairs. Every night she would touch daddy's arm, and he would latch on to her nightgown, and blindly follow her as she led him back into their bedroom and closed the door.

"I'm so tired," mommy would complain to me. "I haven't had a decent night's sleep in years. Every night I have to watch your father, and stay with him to make sure he doesn't hurt himself. I wish I could have a vacation. I need a vacation so badly."