PARENTING REBOOTED
Coffee
You sigh and remind yourself of all he’s lost
“This coffee tastes like crap,” he said, pushing it away with a furrowed brow. “And who in God’s name puts coffee in a plastic cup?”
“It’s chai, dad,” you tell him with a reserved smile.
“Whatever you call it, it’s the worst coffee I’ve ever had. And is that a boy or a girl working at the counter?”
You sigh, hoping the barista didn’t overhear. You are just glad Sarah stayed at home with the kids. Your father’s gruffness sometimes grated on her and you’d have to talk her down. Thinking of that rekindled a deep-seated resentment.
“You never did like to try new things,” you say curtly. He stares at you.
“I tried raising you,” he says, “but that didn’t go so well, did it?”
Reboot.
“This coffee tastes like crap,” he said, pushing it away with a furrowed brow. “And who in God’s name puts coffee in a plastic cup?”
“It’s chai, dad,” you tell him with a reserved smile.
“Whatever you call it, it’s the worst coffee I’ve ever had. And is that a boy or a girl working at the counter?”
You sigh…and remind yourself of all he’s lost.
“Do you miss mom?” you ask.
He studies the table and his eyes water. “Always.”
“I know. I miss her too.” You place your palm over his trembling hand.
“I didn’t do such a good job, you know.” A tear dampens his cheek.
“What do you mean?”
“She deserved better than me. She would have been better off with someone else — ”
“Dad…” You interrupt, but then decide to let him finish.
“Always cooking, cleaning, helping you and your sister. God, I never even helped you with your homework.” He sniffed. “Maybe that’s why you’re so dumb.”
You smile and cackle a laugh. He never smiled, at least on the outside.
“Come on, dad. Let’s go get you a good cup of coffee.” You exit The Bean Cave arm in arm, leaving behind the best cup of chai in town.
