bare [h.s.]

Good Ol' Dad

Few raps of knuckles against wood pull me from my thoughts
and my father clears his throat.
"Sawyer, may I come in?"
But my voice won't invite him in.
That doesn't stop the burly man
from slowly creeping the door open and strolling into my room.

"Your mother told me what happened, you know, earlier," He
stammers, taking cautious steps
toward the pile of blankets that
lay still against the mattress.
I can sense his presence beside
the bed frame, and I pull a
blanket up to my chin
to avoid confrontation.

"She can be hard to handle, trust me. But you have to try, Sawyer," He presses, gently resting his rough palm against my forehead.
I dare not move nor speak
as he brushes strands of loose
hair back, just like he did to comfort his once small daughter.

"But I understand where you're
coming from, I do. Just be a little
easier on her, okay?"

I throw the layers of cloth from my
body, scooting away from the man
now sitting at the edge of the bed.
"She's the one who should be
easier on me," I say, pulling
my knees close to my chest.

"Yeah," He sighs, lifting himself off
the mattress. Walking around the room, he studies a layout of
posters that line one pale wall.
"Do you want to go somewhere? Get a bite to eat?"

"Is she downstairs?" I ask, peering
behind him at the open door.

"Just you and I, kiddo. For the night most likely. She took your brother to your grandparent's place," He shrugs, glancing down at his worn sneakers.

"I could go for some food," I smile,
which lights up my father's face.
"I mean, I could always go for
some food," I let out a small laugh.

"Great," He grins, clapping his
hands together. "But first, take a
shower," He adds, pinching his
nose between two fingers.
"You smell like shit."