by Mia Clark
"Nah," my dad says, grinning. "Freshman year isn't that great. You get hazed and harassed. You're the new kid on the block, so it's more of a learning experience. Once you're through, though, it's smooth sailing from there."
"Not sure I'm having the same college experience as you, Dad," I say to him, laughing. "Freshman year was fine. No issues whatsoever."
"Yeah, I didn't have too many problems in college, either. It was fun, though. A lot of work, but fun."
"Do you really think it's the best years of our lives?" I ask him.
"I don't know. What do you think?" he counters.
I shrug. "Uh... I know I won't be playing football after this, so that kind of sucks. I'm trying to appreciate it while I can."
"That's good," he says. "I think a lot of people would take it for granted."
"There's parties and stuff, which I guess won't be happening all that much after I graduate. Trying not to go too overboard there, though. You know how it is."
Come to think of it, I don't actually know if he knows how it is. Was my dad a huge party animal in college, or was he more like Ashley, spending his free time studying and just doing low key, laid back and chill things when he had a chance?
"That," my dad says, pointed, "is where you're wrong, Ethan. It's true that college parties are known for their... excitement, shall we say, but once you graduate you're open to an entire new world of parties that you never could have dreamed of."
"Oh, yeah, right," I say, rolling my eyes. "Like the company Christmas party? Let's all stand around drinking green fruity rum drinks with red straws and gossiping about corporate affairs. Sounds great."
"No, those are pretty lame sometimes," my dad says, laughing. "Not always lame, but it's more like hanging out with acquaintances. I'm talking about the entire rest of the world, Ethan. College is nice, but it's mostly confined to one area, isn't it? Sure, you might go somewhere for spring break, but the highlight of being an adult is that you can technically go anywhere you want."
"Maybe," I say. "If you have money."
Which, uh... we do, so I don't know why that's my argument, but I just wanted to point it out to him.
"It doesn't take a lot," my dad says. "You can travel the world and gain a lifetime's worth of experience for relatively cheap. Actually, that's what I did. I wasn't entirely unlike you, you know?"
I smirk, but I don't know if he can see it. I'll just let him believe it, let him think that everything's that easy.
"Your grandfather had money, too. I've built up my own little empire here, but I could have traveled in style. When your mom and I were fresh out of college and thinking about starting a life together, we decided to try something different, though. We got on a bus. The tickets only cost us five dollars back then. We didn't go that far, but we didn't even know what we were going to do when we got there. I remember our first night in a cheap motel. It was... not even remotely extravagant. I actually thought about stopping right then and there, too. We were leaving a life of comfort on a journey to an unknown destination, with nothing more than a couple hundred dollars to our name."
"You never told me that before," I say.
"I guess I was always waiting for the right time," he tells me. "I didn't know when I would tell you this. To be honest, I was always hoping I'd be able to tell you this story with her here, too, but, well..."
We're quiet after that. Silently thinking about my mom, I guess. She died a long time ago, but I'm not sure we ever really came to terms with it until the beginning of this summer. We came to terms with it separately, but not together. We just never talked about it much.
"What happened?" I ask. "Did you quit? Go back home?"
"Not at all," my dad says. "Actually, I told her that's what I was thinking. I said to your mother that night in the motel room that I knew this was something she really wanted to do, but I just wasn't sure if I could do it. She told me that she felt the same way, and she had thought it was something I wanted to do, but she didn't know if she could do it, either. We decided to buy tickets back home the next day and forget all about it, but then when we got to the bus station and faced the reality that we were about to just give up, well..."
He doesn't say anything after that. What the fuck, Dad? I don't mean to be rude here, but that's a total cliffhanger and not even the end of a story.
I wait. He's going to keep going, right? Nah...
I keep waiting. He looks over at me while we drive down the clear afternoon highway.
"Are you going to ask what happened next?" he asks.
"I'm supposed to ask? I thought you were telling a story here."
"I need a captive audience to tell this story," he says, grinning. "I'm only going to tell it to you if you're interested."
"Yeah," I say, fighting back the urge to be sarcastic. "I'm interested! Come on, what happened next?"
"The bus back home was delayed. The man at the ticket counter told us it'd be another half hour before it returned. Your mom asked him which bus was leaving the soonest, and he told her, and we bought two tickets for there instead. I don't even remember where. It was some small town in the mountains somewhere. A ski resort, I think, except it was summer then. We stayed at a cozy bed and breakfast for the next two days. The owners were an older married couple, and they treated us almost like we were family."
He stops again. This time I'm prepared.
"That's not the end of the story," I tell him. This isn't a question. I know your games, Dad. Don't even try it.
"No, it's not. We kept going like that, but we went further and further outside our comfort zones. Sometimes we'd stay a little and do small jobs to make some money to keep going, or to pay for our room and board. There's an entire world of resource available to you if you have a few skills. Your mother was a good cook, and I could do some manual labor, so we made out alright."
"And that's it. Happily ever after?" I ask.
"Almost!" he says, excited. "We were slowly saving up, but neither of us knew what we were saving up for. One night your mother said to me, 'You know what? We have enough money between the two of us that we could probably get a plane ticket now.' And she said it with this mischievous gleam in her eyes that I'll never forget."
"So what?" I ask. "You took a plane instead of a bus next time?"
"Yes," he says. "To England. And we started over again from there, all through Europe. Thankfully we knew enough French, Spanish, and Italian to be dangerous. I think we would have kept traveling, except..."
"Seriously, you're still going to do this?" I ask him, shaking my head. "Except what?"
"It's not really a bad thing. I think we were both ready to go home already, but your mother told me one day she was pregnant, and, well... you probably know most of the rest of that story. We came back home, settled down, I went to work for your grandfather at first, but then I started off on my own a few years later, and here we are."
"You don't regret it, do you?" I ask.
I don't even know what I'm asking him. Does he regret me? The fact that I stopped their magical journey to who knows where? It sounds kind of amazing, actually.
Does he regret losing her? I know he loved my mom, but he's never talked to me about her the way he is now. I never really knew the extent of it. Growing up you just sort of know, right? Yeah, your mom loves your dad and your dad loves your mom. It's like some undeniable fact, except sometimes it's not. I never really considered the extent of it before.
I guess the most important question is... was it enough? Was everything he did with her enough?
"I don't regret anything, Ethan," my dad says softly. "I used to think about it more, but those thoughts can't lead to anything good. Your mother and I lived a lifetime together. We traveled to places some people never dream of, and we did it with not much more than ourselves. We had a handsome baby boy, who has now grown into the beginnings of a wonderful man. Your mother would be proud of you, and she'd be happy for us and all that we've done since she passed away. Life is
hard sometimes, but we knew that from the start. We could have quit, and then where would we have been? I'm just... I'm glad that we didn't. I'm thankful the bus was delayed that day and that we went out on a limb and did something other people would say is foolish or dangerous."
"I think she'd like Ashley," I say. "Ashley's mom, too. I think Mom would have really liked both of them if she had a chance to meet them."
"I think she would, too," my dad says, smiling. He's trying to hide it, but I can see a faint hint of a glassy tear in his eyes. "I think this is what life is about," he adds. "It's about falling in love, whether you do so with people, places, or things, and it's about taking risks sometimes, and doing things that other people might say are dangerous or wrong. If you find someone you want to be with for the rest of your life, make sure that every day is special, because you don't know how many you'll have."
"And if for some reason you don't have as much time with that person as you'd like," he continues, "realize that it was still special. Realize that they wouldn't want you to trap yourself in depression and memories when they were gone, too. They'd want you to keep living, and to fall in love again, with more people, places, or things, and they'd want you to take the same risks, and do things that other people might say are dangerous or wrong..."
"I like that," I say, smiling.
"It's what your mother told me before she passed away," my dad says. "It was difficult for me to see the truth behind her words for a long time. She made me promise that I'd tell you the same thing one day. I didn't know when I'd tell you, but now just seemed right."
There's an onion factory or major allergies or something going on around here. I need to roll my window up. It's already rolled up, though. All the windows are rolled up and the air conditioner is on and it's just me and my dad driving down an empty highway.
I know I said this was awkward before. It's not that awkward, though. I kind of like it, actually. I hope we can have conversations like this again in the future, just, uh... maybe less allergy-inducing?
Fuck it, I'm crying, alright? Are you happy now? Not a lot, just a little. Enough. Just enough, and I don't have to explain myself here. It is what it is. Don't judge me.
*** Ethan
Let's just fast forward a little. Heartfelt moments and bonding with my dad are cool and all, but this isn't some Hallmark channel drama movie here. I'm heading back to college! This is supposed to be exciting and crazy.
Just a little crazy. We're not going to go too crazy here. No strippers or anything.
I don't think there's going to be any strippers at least. Who knows?
The rest of the drive is nice, and my dad and I talk, but then we get to the school, and, uh... well...
"Huh!" my dad says, looking out the window towards the college campus.
There's a wide open expanse of green out front, which is nice. Mostly just for looks, but there's benches and trees. Kind of like a park, I guess? Sometimes people hang out there, either studying or talking, doing college stuff.
To the left is a path leading to the library, with a little more privacy by the hedges. That's more for the private kind of public stuff, if you know what I mean. Making out, some light groping, boyfriend and girlfriend stuff. Or just a friend you made that day that you want to make out with and grope. I won't judge.
On the right is the cafeteria which is connected to the dorms. We share a cafeteria with the college next door, so it's kind of a joint experience, I guess. Both colleges are separate, but they come together in a lot of ways, and if you go to one you end up hanging out with students from both. Kind of cool.
I'm not sure what my dad is staring at, but he seems way too interested. It's just a college, Dad? You went to one? I'm sure it's like most other colleges out there, right?
"What's up?" I ask him. "What's with the staring?"
"They didn't make college girls like this back in my day," my dad says, staring at a pack of co-eds walking by. "I didn't think anyone actually wore shorts that short."
"Dad, are you seriously checking out college girls?" I ask, but... yeah, my dad's checking out basically every girl. Equal opportunity and all, have to check out all of them at least a little bit. "You're kind of too old for them, not to mention, uh... you're married?"
"I'm just looking, Ethan," my dad says. "Your stepmother will appreciate it later. I wonder if she wants to try out a little teacher-student roleplay. I'll be the professor, of course. She does look nice in pigtails. We'll need to look into buying some shorter shorts, though. Really, Ethan, are those shorts or underwear?"
"Dad," I say, deadpan. "First off, TMI. Way too much. Second, yeah, those are shorts. I mean, sure, you can see some of their butt, but that's a style, I guess."
A style I very much appreciate most of the time. Or did appreciate. Can I still appreciate it? Fuck, this is difficult. Save me from temptation, Princess. I'm going to need to have Ashley buy the shortest shorts she can find to redeem me and bring me salvation or whatever you want to call it.
Wait. Fuck. If Ashley wears the shortest shorts she can find, some other guy is going to stare at her ass, too. Ugh. How's this going to work?
Before, uh... I guess I never cared much with other girls? It's easy not to care when you're only going to spend a week or two with them. With Ashley, I think I need to care more. I mean, I do care more, so there's that, but I don't want guys staring at her, either. Not staring too hard, at least. They can stare a little, I guess, but when push comes to shove they need to check themselves and back the fuck off.
Yeah, that's it. Alright, I think that's settled, then.
Sort of, except my dad's still staring.
"Ethan, is that... I know that's a shirt, right? But I can see the bottom of that girl's breasts. That's fascinating. You always think the top of the breasts is alluring. It's the most common, isn't it? The bottom, though... huh. I could get used to that."
"Fuck, man... don't even get me started on underboob, Dad," I say.
I could talk all day about this. They seriously need to have a college appreciation course on the different parts of a breast. They have art history appreciation courses, and this is definitely art, so...
"Underboob?" my dad says, testing this new word for himself. "I like it. The word is simple, yet conveys its meaning easily."
"There's sideboob, too," I tell him. "That one's even more elusive sometimes, but it's probably one of the best."
"I don't see any of that yet," my dad says.
"Like I said, it's hard to come by, but..." Wait. Wait a fucking second here. Why am I...? "Why am I even having this conversation with you? We're supposed to be parking and bringing my stuff up to my dorm room, not checking out girls. You're married and I'm taken! You're going to fuck this all up for me, aren't you?"
"Oh, you're taken now, are you?" my dad says, teasing me. "I thought you were always the one doing the taking."
"I don't know how this works," I tell him. "What the fuck do I call it? Shit, I didn't even think about this. Some girl is going to come up and try to get me to get in her pants and I'm not even going to know how to tell her I have a girlfriend."
"I think that's all you say," my dad says, making way too much sense. "Excuse me, miss, but I have a girlfriend."
"Excuse me, miss?" I say, shaking my head. "What's up with that? Pretty sure no one says that ever."
"Yo, bitch, back up and stop trying to ride my pole, I've got an old lady back home?" my dad offers.
"Dad... seriously, did you just say that? Yo bitch, back up off my pole? You need to stop watching so much TV. Old lady? I don't think anyone says that."
"Your stepmother and I are on season three of Sons of Anarchy and they say 'old lady' in that," my dad says, as if this makes it any better. "That's a really great show, by the way. Thanks for the recommendation."
"I'm never recommending a TV show to you ever again," I say.
"It's fine. I'll just ask Ashley then."
"I hate you."
"We
were thinking of watching Breaking Bad next. Who knew that shows about biker gangs and fathers-turned-meth dealers would be so popular and interesting?"
"Stop. Please."
"Do you know if there's any sideboob or underboob in either of those shows?"
"Fuck my life..."
"Alright, now that I've officially done my fatherly duty of embarrassing you on your first day back at school, I think we're ready to go!" my dad says, cheery, like he's accomplished some terrific mission.
Yeah, uh... terrific... thanks, Dad.
"There's parking over there," I tell him, pointing towards a side road by the cafeteria.
We've just been kind of chilling on the side of the street out in front of the college, apparently so my dad can stare at college girls and embarrass me.
"Great! Now I can get an up close view of..."
"The dorm room floors are separated by gender, so my floor is guys only," I say, cutting him off before he gets any bad ideas.
"Huh! Really? That's interesting."
"There might be girls hanging out in the common rooms, I guess," I add. I don't know why I add this. I really shouldn't. "It's just the dorm rooms that are separated. Makes it easier for stuff, I guess. Fuck if I know what. Bathrooms, maybe?"
"So what do you do if you're on the women's floor and you have to go to the bathroom?" my dad asks.
"Uh, you sneak into the girl's bathroom and hope no one cares? I doubt you could pull it off. Me, though? Yeah, easy."
"I'm telling Ashley," my dad says, smirking at me before pulling up next to the dorms and taking the nearest parking space.
Fucking A, man...
*** Ashley
Everything is crazy and hectic when my mom and I arrive back at school. I kind of wish we'd came a day earlier now, but then I would have had one less day with Ethan.
Ugh. Why is life so complicated sometimes?
We find my dorm room easily enough. I have a roommate, but I don't really know her except in passing. They sort of just put you with people and let it go from there. I guess it's a learning experience? I hope she's nice, and I hope we get along. I don't have time to worry about that, though.