Page 2 of Red's Peril: Part 1

Dad might no longer be the father I’d looked up to while growing up, but I couldn’t forget deep down inside he was still that man—a larger-than-life, always-there figure with a loud booming voice he used to praise or admonish a growing boy. Always ready to come cheer when I was playing football or take me fishing and hunting. He’d taught me to drive, and a myriad of other things kids look to their dads for. He might never be that father again, but I owed him a debt and I was going to repay it.

It was then I’d examined my relationship with my mom. She’d provided the basics—food to fill the stomach of a growing boy, a clean, tidy home to return to–but our house wasn’t filled with laughter and joy, and the only things that seemed to make her happy had nothing to do with her child, and more with pleasing herself. Having not given me emotional support during my formative years, I’d had none to offer when she’d asked it of me, my loyalty all for my father instead. I’d felt sadness, of course, when she’d driven away, but it was more for a loss for something I’d never had.

Parental obligations meant she’d kept in touch for a while, mainly to see whether her old man was still breathing. She’d never come back.

I’d had no idea what I’d been taking on, my decision made in a rush of emotion. As everything became clearer and my life grew harder, of necessity, I’d shaken off the remaining shackles of childhood fast. I had nothing but hate and abhorrence left for her. Any contact petered out on her side as well as mine.

Dad had lingered far longer than expected—years instead of the months the doctors had given him. I never regretted not doing what she’d suggested, putting him in a home where he’d be cared for by strangers.

He’d needed expert care, more than I could provide. At least he had a hefty insurance payout which enabled me to employ an experienced caregiver from nine to five but little extra to live on. Hence, my job seeking, which had led me to Manny’s door. No one else had wanted an eighteen-year-old with no experience and dying dreams of becoming a Ranger.

Although we could only afford part-time care, Dad had needed twenty-four-hour attention, so that fell to me when the professional wasn’t there. Alongside my mechanics training, I learned all about how to look after a man who could do nothing for himself and learned to interpret what little he could still enjoy.

He knew when I was there, beamed when I returned from work and took over from the carer. He enjoyed sports, though it was unclear how much he could understand, and loved it when I filled his sippy cup with his favourite beer. Weekends we’d both sit watching television, me on watch for checking his oxygen, that he wasn’t choking, and for when his diapers needed changing.

In essence, I gave up my life to preserve his.

I didn’t resent one single minute. But no one, least of all me, expected him to last seven years.

A few weeks back and a massive brain bleed had achieved what his accident had failed to do. I’d held his hand as he’d lain dying, a shell of a man who wasn’t my dad anymore. Then, without fanfare, he faded away and was gone.

For seven years, my only reprieve had been working for Manny. Those hours working for him gave me a break which enabled me to hang onto my sanity.

Manny’s been good to me, but I don’t owe him like I did my dad. I’ve had enough of giving up years when I could be building a life that I wanted, rather than one duty had forced on to me. It was time to be selfish and be just me. Time to seek whatever it was I was searching for.

Manny raps his fingers on the table, purses his lips, then takes in a deep breath, letting it out on a sigh. “I suspected it was time when your dad went. Knew this was coming, just hoped I had something to offer to keep you here. I’m going to fucking miss you, Red.”

“I’ll miss you too, Manny. You know I’ll never be able to thank you enough. But apart from you and this job, there’s nothing to stay here for.” Manny’s been like a substitute father to me, and I’ll never forget him, but I’m fed up with feeling I owe anyone anything. Self-centred? Perhaps. But so much of my life has been stolen.

Before my dad’s accident, I’d been a normal teen, partying, getting girlfriends. I’m no twenty-five-year-old virgin, but apart from my hand, my dick’s seen no action for the past seven years, all my free time taken up nursing my parent. I want to let loose, make up for those missing years. I couldn’t do that staying here working for Manny. Or, if he had his way, taking over his business. Having been forced into adulthood, I want to take a step back. Have my stab at being a wild child, live the life I’d never had.

Not that I want to drift forever. Part of my dream is finding a good woman and settling down—after I’ve sown my wild oats of course, and I’ve got a lot of those stored up. Maybe eventually having a kid and teaching it like my dad had taught me.

Manny sits back, brings his bottle to his mouth and takes a few swallows, then replaces the empty bottle on the table, looking up with acceptance in his eyes. “I won’t try and talk you out of it, that wouldn’t be fair. Christ, I know what you’ve been through since your mom walked out. So,” he leans back, folding his arms, “tell me, what are your plans?”

Instead of the months that in the beginning I’d thought was all I had, I’ve had years to think about it, gradually revising and refining my plans. Initially, it was a delayed entry into the Army, then as more time passed, an acknowledgment I was too old to subject myself to that authority. Now, I try to voice what my next step is. I acknowledge that even to myself, what I’ve mapped out sounds vague.

“I’m going south. I hate these winters. I want to go where I can ride my bike all year round.” My mouth turns up as I nod out the window where the clouds have finally made up their minds, and a heavy sleet is falling.

“You and that fuckin’ motorcycle of yours.” He laughs.

She’s my pride and joy, the thing that’s kept me sane over the years. I’d bought her cheap as a wreck and fixed her up by myself. She’s a thing of beauty now, an ancient Harley, but she’s still got miles in her, by virtue of being almost entirely new parts.

“So just ride, huh? Where you thinking? California?” He doesn’t tell me I’m not being sensible. Instead, there’s a gleam in his eyes as if heading out with no destination in mind is something he’d have liked to have tried.

“Nah. California’s too crowded.” I’d already rejected that state. It also sounds cliché. California or Florida are the main places people tend to head for when they want to move to warmer climates. “I’m just going to head south and see where I end up.”

“You’re young. In many ways, I envy you.” I know his history. Manny had settled down when he was five years younger than I am now. His youngest kid is my grand old age of twenty-five. He and his wife are still happily married, but I sense an unfulfilled wanderlust in his eyes. “I’ll fucking miss you.” He shakes his head and repeats what he’s said before.

And again, it’s the absolute truth when I reply, “I’ll miss you too, old man.”

“Less of the fuckin’ old,” he growls. I grin. He continues, “You could still sign up.”

I shake my head. That boat has long sailed now. Forced to become independent earlier than I liked, I want out from a regimented routine, and have no desire to step back into another one. For too long, my days have been ordered by times to medicate or do this or that for my dad. I want to explore the alien concept of spontaneity.

He moves on to the practicalities. “You want me to store anything for you? Just until you settle down?”

I shake my head. There’s little I want to take with me, preferring to make a fresh start. The furniture we had is more likely to go to the dump or to Goodwill, than be something I’d want to keep. The house itself, well, that was forfeited long ago once the insurance had dwindled out.

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