Dark Trade

Unforgettable

Dad drove us through the streets of Manhattan looking for a motel. Bright lights flashed against the car window as we rode through Times Square.

I remember when mom use to take me here, and she'd stay window shopping until she'd be too tempted to purchase something. She always said that New York fashion was the best.

My dad's truck hummed softly as its wheels spun, rolling the truck forward. He's had this truck for 18 years now. His dad gave it to him when he was 16, and he's had it ever since. Mama told me the story of when he drove her to prom in it. Seemed like they'd be the one high school couple that would stay together forever, but I guess they didn't know that the future held a different plan for them.

"Dad...you do realize that not only have you gotten yourself into more trouble, but now I'm also involved. If mama were here-"

"Well ya mother ain't here now is she Cat!" Dad interrupted me with glossy eyes.

"Don't you think I know I'm a failure as a father! Don't you think I know how much my gambling has ran our family into the ground! Hell, I can't even call this a family, ya mama done ran off with some high class man who sells cars. God damn it Cat, if I could go back in time and stop your mother from leaving me-", his eyes begin to fill with tears, "then I would!"

I had no idea what to say. My dad had never blown up like that before. The only time he'd ever use to rant is when he'd come home smelling like alcohol and sin. Mom would ask him if he was swingin with other women, and he'd blow up on her for thinking that he was cheatin'. To our surprise, dad wasn't cheatin', it was just the start of his gambling and heavy debt.

We pulled into the parking lot of a motel. "Stay in the car." Dad closes the car door, and walks towards the office to pay. The place was called Mo's motel and pool. It was an ugly seafoam green with a sign that looked like a shooting star. There were cracks in one of the room doors, windows, and paint.

No wonder why we came here, it's probably the only place we could afford.

Dad was coming back from the office holding a little piece of paper in his hand. "I got us a room." He didn't make any eye contact with me. I must have really damaged a nerve in him, his eyes remained glossy as if he were getting ready to cry.

"Dad, I know you try your best to be a good father, but it's just hard to forget the past and what you continue to do. I could understand if you stopped gambling after mama left, but it got even worse when she moved on."

Dad finally looks at me. His eyes reminded me of the Hoover Damn, they were holding back so much water. His facial expression constantly switch from composed to nearly leaking a tear.

I watched as my father battled with his emotions. An ongoing feud between sadness and sternness. He wraps his fingers around the strap of the duffel bag, and pulls it up on his shoulder. "You sound more and more like you're mama everyday."