My Father Is Who?!: An E.P. Fan Fiction.

Chapter Five: Early Morning Rain..

The morning was just as bad as the night. At about 3:30 the previous afternoon the rain had started and it showed no sign of letting up any time soon. I sat on the porch for an hour, just watching the rain fall. Soothing, yes: but still enough to piss me off. Because of the damn rain, the bonfire had been canceled. So, much to my dismay I spent the night playing scrabble with my parents and the couple from down the road.

What a dreadful way to spend my last free Friday night.

I woke to loud plops of water hitting the window and thunder rattling the glass. The morning air was cold against my bare skin, filtering into my room from the open window.  The sky was lit a dull gray. The land around us had a somber feel, all 500 of my fathers acres lit up a beautiful purple with blue hue's with each lightning strike. Sometimes I wondered if things like this happened on purpose.

I rubbed my eyes in an attempt to get a better view of my room. My vision was blurred. Only blinding me momentarily and kind of allowing me to make out silhouette's: which bothered me as there was one thing I knew of my father's family, and that was they were prone to Glaucoma..

There was one good thing about the rain: no spending time out in the field. On mornings like this the neighbor boy from up the way would come over and help dad tend to the usual grind on our farm. His family was much worse off than ours: six kids and failing crops. So Aaron Robertson would come down and daddy would give him simple things to do and by the end of the morning, send him home with an arm full of left overs from breakfast, fresh fruits, vegetables, eggs and a crisp hundred dollar bill. Daddy was always willing to give to the needy and as far as he was concerned: they were the needy.

Daddy was considered a well-to-do farmer and no one could understand why our crops grew in so plentiful while theirs had no luck. Some speculated that daddy's hands were those of a saints with a green thumb. I wasn't sure I would have said saint but he was I would agree, yes indeed blessed with a green thumb.

I descended down the stairs, my throw blanket wrapped around my shoulders and made my way to the kitchen. Chelz was babbling on about some band that was going to be at the school tomorrow morning and how that was where church was being held in the high school gym to my mother who was frying eggs at the stove for when Aaron and daddy came in.

I flung a cabinet door open and pulled out of my favorite coffee mug and a package of hot cocoa. It was my favorite drink. Ever.

Pouring milk in a pan to warm, humming "I shall be released" a Bob Dylan tune I had heard recently. Milk finally warm I poured it into my cup I added the powder and stirred it for a moment and headed toward the front door to see if I could catch a glimpse of Aaron.

He was my fathers best friend's son and I thought he was the cutest thing I'd ever seen. I made my way across the porch to the swing and sat down, clutching the mug between my hands.

The rain pelted my skin, and felt like needles as it hit me.

Now why the hell would dad go out and work in this mess? It always made me think, just how dedicated daddy was to his job and it even brought a touch of pride to my heart.

I slurped the cocoa from my mug and watched as my father and Aaron emerged from the confines of the barn and headed in the direction of the house.

Catching sight of me sitting on the swing in my pajama's with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders and mug in hand, Aaron raised one hand and waved. His hands reminded me of a middle aged mans. They were thick and callused like a man who had worked for his meal for many years. His face was cold as steel and rough as concrete. He looked mean. Old beyond his years. However, I knew differently.