Intoxicating Truths

I see in his eyes his hopes and dreams he had for himself and feel the longing grasp it has on his heart. In his mind he beats himself over time and time again for a mistake he made in his past, a past that haunts him in his waking hours of cloudy days that overlap nights of restless slumber. A deep shadow follows him, lurking beneath his every move; it slowly takes over, sinking its teeth of failure under his skin taking hold of his spirit, rotting away his already broken soul. His mind, his eyes start to drift away, away to a place I don't know, away to a world unknown. His hand drifts to the bottle, the bottle falls to his lips, the liquor spills down his throat, the poison seeps into his pitted stomach, filling it up with intoxicating satisfaction.

It's raining and pitch black outside; inside, it's the same. Once again I am missing out on another chance of being a typical teenager on a Friday night; being carefree and reckless. Instead, I'm doing the responsible parent role; taking care of my intoxicated father.

I'm in the driver's seat taking him home. Beside me, he's drifting out of the window singing along in a drunken stupor to a Smokey Robinson tune playing on the radio. Me, eyes are focused on the road ahead, but my mind is groggily interpreting my routine predicament.

"You know... I thought I was going to grow up to be Smokey."

Interrupted from my thoughts, I look over at my father. His eyes are glazed over and aged, his body is positioned in a child like manner. He continues to talk but his words are slurred and muffled. Anyone else would look at him with pity, but I defend him with compassion. Compassion for a man with broken hopes and shattered dreams of a life he has seen everyday but is unable to live. Tears fill my eyes, but only the rain falls.

We pull up to the drive way, the rain is now just an echo of the past. I open the car door. The smell of fresh rain fills my lungs sending me into a splendiferous state of relaxation, my mind is now calm as the night air. I walk over to the other side of the car, I look in before I open the door. My father is asleep against it, curled up in the fetal position. I sit back for a second and quietly study his face, he looks at peace. I've watched my father sleep many times, but this is the first time I've ever seen him resting. He has a slight grin on his face and it makes me wonder what he's dreaming about. I feel like an intruder opening the car door. He gazes up at me with a drowsy smile on his face.

"You were in my dreams." He's beginning to sober up. "When you were only two weeks old, your mother and I took you to the doctors for your first check-up. The doctor bent down to listen to your heart and your little hand reached up and pulled the stethoscope right out of the doctors ears and you started laughing. I knew right then that there was something special about you."