It Isn't Real If It's Just One Night

I was the first one to wake up the next morning because I was excited knowing we’d be in my hometown of San Francisco. I carefully escaped from the bunk deciding it would be nice of me to make breakfast for everyone. I made some coffee and pancakes. Pat and Jared were the next two to arise from their slumber.

“’Morning,” I told the two as I arranged plates for them.

“’Morning,” they replied. “How long have you been up?” Pat asked.

“Uh, not long after you guys woke.” I replied turning off the stove. “I’ll be back.” I told them after pouring myself a cup of coffee. “There’s more on the stove if you want, just leave some for the other guys.” Pat and Jared nodded their heads as they continued to silently eat.

I walked to the back of the bus to see if John had already woken up. Slowly, I pulled open the curtain to see John still fast asleep. I smiled at how peaceful he looked and carefully climbed in next to him.

“John.” I whispered pushing some hair away from his eyes. “John, baby, it’s time to wake up.” I shook his shoulders a little.

“Hmm,” he groaned.

“Wake up.” I complained kissing the tip of his nose, slowly moving to his cheek, and then behind his ear.

He groaned more. “If you know what you’re doing, you’d stop right now.” He placed his hand on my hip.

“I know exactly what I’m doing.” I told him and propped up my elbow and rested my head in the palm of my hand. “Now wake up.”

John opened his eyes, blinking a few times. “Good morning.”

“’Morning, love,” I quickly kissed him on the lips.

“Who else is up?” He asked rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Everyone else but you,”

“Hm,” he paused. “Are you going to see Erwin today?” He stared into my eyes with all seriousness.

“I don’t know yet.” I let my elbow collapse and lay on the bunk.

Erwin is my Dad. He and my mother divorced when I was fourteen. He moved back to California a few months after the divorce was finalized. I wish I could say I was close to my Dad, but truthfully: I’m not. We hardly even spoke to each other before my parents decided to divorce, the only time we did, was if the topic was about sports; pretty much the only thing he and I have in common, is our love of sports. I wish I could say I was a Daddy’s girl, but I’m not.

Throughout junior high and high school, I joined the swim, volleyball, and track team; in hope it would bring my father and I closer. And it did, but how long would it be until I got tired of playing sports? And tired of pretending to have a normal relationship with my Dad?

Dead weight—is what my Mom called him; what her reason for divorcing him was. And even as a fourteen year old girl, it didn’t faze me. I never once cried, I never once felt sad either. I wish I did, though. Every once in a while he’ll call, just to check up on me and my Mom. And I’d tell him the same thing every time; that we’re okay. I never once did tell him how much happier we were without him.

“Well, you have time to think about it.” John said kissing my forehead and climbed over me, leaving me in the bunk to think.

I stayed in the same spot, in the exact position debating whether I should go see my Dad or not. I haven’t seen him since last year, but would the trip downtown be worth it? Probably not. Seeing him in person wouldn’t be any different than calling him on the phone. So I decided to not waste my time.

I jumped out of the bunk and walked to my bag, getting ready for the busy day ahead of me.