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SINISTER

18.

His new wife hated me. Stacy kept her smile tight-lipped and her body language all wooden gestures to make it clear to me. To her, I was nothing but a child support check, money that should’ve been spent on their two daughters. She should’ve seen it from my side. I’d missed out on having a real father because he couldn’t get his shit together. When he finally did, he started from scratch with a new marriage and new kids. I’d always thought it was an asshole thing to do.

So far, it’d been a long and alcohol-free visit, so I eyed the beer in my father’s hand, longing for one.

“So you’re drinking again?”

We sat in the backyard on sagging lawn chairs. The night was warm and I wore shorts. Kansas bugs fluttered against my legs, making me flinch every once in a while.

“I work 12 hour days,” he said. “It’s under control, so don’t mention it to your mom.”

“Can I have one?”

He looked at me with a frown like he was going to say no and maybe yell at me, then waved toward the back door. “Help yourself.”

I stepped into the house. He had the beers lined up on one side of the fridge. The blue twelve-pack carton was on top the trash can. I returned to the backyard with one for each of us.

“You be careful with this,” he said, aiming his bottle at me. “It’s in your blood and it can get out of control if you’re not careful.”

“I know.”

“You want a cigarette, too?”

“No way, they mess up my voice and make it hard for me to sing for more than twenty minutes at a time.” And that, I decided, was the segue to my plan. “I need a good voice to do what I want to do for a living.”

“What’s that?”

“Music,” I said. “You know, piano, singing, I’m really serious about it and I’d like to study it. I want to get a music degree instead of going the whole business administration route.”

“A music degree,” he said. “What do you do with one of those, teach kids how to play the trumpet?”

“That’s one thing I could do,” I said. “I could also work for recording studios. There’s lot of ways to make a living at it. What I really want, though is to play live.”

“Play live? Like on stage?”

“Yeah.”

“You want to be a rock star?”

I nodded.

“What’s it worth to you, junior?” He finished off his beer, set the empty bottle down in the grass and twisted the cap off the next one. “Nothing’s more expensive than a big dream. How much are you willing to pay for yours?”

“I don’t know,” I said, honest. “A lot, I guess.”

“It might cost you your whole life. You willing to pay that?”

“Maybe, I am.”

“I don’t know anything about the music business, but I’m pretty sure it takes more than maybe to become a rock star. Most guys end up playing to a bunch of drunks in bars. You want to waste of all those brains in your head?”

He would know, I thought, all about wasting brains in a bar full of drunks. The meanness of the thought surprised me. Sometimes I hated my father just as much as Garren loathed his.

“If I study music, I’ll stay in Manitou. You and mom won’t have to pay nearly as much for tuition. I’ll live at home, so there won’t be any dorm fees. I’ll even work part-time to defray the cost even more.”

“And how does your mom’s feel about this money saving plan?”

I sighed. “I was kind of hoping you’d think it was a good idea and I’d be able to tell her that when I broke the news.”

He nodded. “That’s manipulative. If music doesn’t work out you might be able to sell cars.”

“Ha,” I said. “So what do you think?”

“If you go to business school I pick up half the tab, same as if you study flutes and clarinets. A judge in Colorado decided that a long time ago.”

“But the tabs a whole lot smaller if – .”

“I heard you.” He raised the bottle and took a long drink. “But you’ll be the one paying a different kind of bill and you might be paying it as long as you live. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, but – .”

“Let me put it another way. Do you like that piece of crap car I bought you? Be honest, do you?”

“No, Dad.”

“I didn’t think so. Why do you think I got you a car like that? I make good coin, I could of put behind the wheel of a Mustang just like mine.”

“Yeah, you could have,” I said. “So you tell me.”

“Nice cars cost a lot of money. You get a business degree, you’ll have a nice car. You play music, you might end up rich and famous and driving a Ferrari. The odds aren’t in your favor, though, and most likely you’ll end up driving something like that Citation.”

“I understand. Believe me, I do.”

“Everything’s got a price and life is nothing more than deciding what’s worth paying for and what’s not.”

We were both quiet for a moment. I was uncomfortable with him being so fatherly. He seemed to relish it.

“What about fatherhood? Does that have a price?”

“God, yes, especially fatherhood.”

When he smiled at me, his expression had nothing but warmth in it and right then I didn’t hate him at all.

“So what do you think? It’s what I want, Dad, more than anything.”

“The first price you pay is blowing up your mother’s biggest dream.”

“I know.”

“You’ll pay that?”

“Yes.”

“Then I want back stage passes to all your shows.”

I held out my bottle. He tapped his beer against it. That night, I got very drunk with my father.

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