Take This to Your Grave

My dad had taken us to a popular diner, telling me that Amy was waiting for us. I wondered what she looked like and if she truly liked my dad. I was a bit nervous, but the smile on my dad's face reassured me.

He led the way towards a booth near the back; I followed, looking for a woman. Finally, my dad halted at a table, not a booth, and a woman stood; she was absolutely beautiful. It was ridiculous how pretty she is; she has long blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, painted red lips and pearly white teeth. She wore this beautiful vibrant blue summer dress, and these flats that matched. This woman is breathtaking.

"Amy," my dad said, breaking my stare, "This is my daughter Naomi." Amy stood, "Naomi, this is Amy."

She stuck out her hand, her red manicure fingernails were perfect. Her long eyelashes batted against her pink cheeks as she continued to smile benevolently. I shook her hand; "It's great to finally meet you, Naomi."

I swallowed, feeling self-conscious; "Yeah. It's nice to meet you too."

We sat in chairs, and my dad touched Amy's hand lovingly. My dad looked so happy; "You make my dad happy." I said aloud, "I never seen him this way before."

Amy blushed, "Oh, well, he makes me very, very happy too."

"How did you meet?"

"Your dad's company was renovating my father's house that I'm now selling. We talked, exchanged numbers and we've been together ever since... It's only been 4 months, and here I am saying this as if it's been years."

She laughed softly; even her laugh was perfect. This woman was everything a man could want; on the surface.

"Do you have any kids?" I asked politely, curiously.

Amy shook her head, "No, I wasn't fortunate. Maybe someday, y'know."

The thought of my dad having more kids made me laugh; in my head. I couldn't imagine my dad with kids; he's never been a big fan, aside from me.

"What do you do?"

"I'm a real estate agent."

I looked at my dad, who chuckled, and I looked back at her, "No wonder youget along with my old man."

She laughed, placing a hand over her mouth, and then setting it on the table, "I've been obsessed with DIY housing."

"Do you like it?"

"Meh, it's okay, people who are to attached to their homes are the worst."

I was fascinated with Amy; she told me all about herself, without much interruption from my dad. She was 30 years old, 6 years my father's junior, and had recently buried her own dad. She said she didn't have any brothers or sisters, her mother had passed a long time ago.

My dad and Amy are a perfect match. My dad's parents had died when I was a toddler, and his only brother lived way down in Texas. Amy and my dad are two lonesome adults who need love.

I supported it all the way.

After we ate lunch, we parted with Amy; she had hugged me, we bonded a bit. I returned her hug, happily; I really like her. My dad kissed her, and then hugged her; we went to our separate rides and waved to one another. In the truck, my dad still had a grin on his face.

I dug into the glove compartment for gum, popping a piece into my mouth; "Are you in love with her?" I asked, smiling as I chewed.

My dad nodded slowly, "I think so."

"She's great, dad. I like her."

"I knew you would."

"I'm so happy for you." I told him earnestly.

"Me, too." He exhaled, still smiling, "I never thought I'd feel this way about another woman again."

My dad's other relationship, the only one, really, was turbulent. My dad, as I found out, is very sensitive and loving and tender. I always suspected his heart was flinty, but I was extremely wrong. He loved this woman, Veronica, so much, and when she cheated on him and told him off about how she didn't love him, it was over. My dad's heart was broken; he became broken and didn't talk to anyone; not even me. That was 2 and a half years ago, and to see him now feels as if that whole thing never happened.

I always seemed to wonder if my dad ever had love for my mom. The whole thing between them was some drunken party at NYU, and I was the product. They didn't even know each other; they met only a few hours before I was conceived. My dad said he didn't even know my mom's name, but somehow he found her, and saw her 5 months pregnant with me, in a business class. My dad did the noble thing; he offered to take care of me while she finished school. My mom jumped at the chance, and as soon as she popped me out, my dad dropped out and took me to Chicago.

"Did you ever like my mom?" I asked him.

My dad laughed softly, "Uh, I thought she was pretty. I never fell in love with her, y'know. I offered to marry her, too, since her mom was catholic."

"You would've done that?" I asked incredulously.

He nodded, "For you, yeah, Naomi. I wanted things stable for you... To have what I had; two loving parents and things like that. But, it didn't turn out that way."

"I still think I'm fortunate. I love living with you."

My dad looked over at me quickly, "I love having you around, kid."


Sunday morning, my dad left real early to meet with one of his employees. It was too early in the morning, but the sun was shining bright and peeking through my closed curtains.

"I shouldn't be long," my dad patted my head as I buried myself beneath the covers.

"Okay." I muttered.

My dad gave a small laugh before leaving my bedroom. Since he woke me up, I would be up; I growled, but laid there for a while, wishing I were asleep.

I finally got up, looking at the clock; it was 8 am; "Son of a bitch."

I stretched and yawned and went to my window; the sun was bright, I squinted and opened the curtains and then pushed up the window. I jumped slightly when I saw Pete there leaning out a window. So, that was his bedroom; I thought.

"Good morning." He waved at me.

"What the hell are you doing? It's 8 am."

"I don't sleep much." He answered. "What're you doing up? Your dad wake you?"

"Yeah."

"Wanna come over?"

I tweaked my lips and shrugged, "Lemme brush my teeth."

"Alright."

I left the window and then to the bathroom. I washed my face and brushed my teeth; I pulled on a sweater and my sandals. I left the house, going over next door; I stopped shortly when it dawned on me how crazy this was. The Wentz's could be up and see me; but, still my feet didn't stop and before I could knock the door opened and Pete pulled me in.

He smiled at me, taking my hand and leading me upstairs; "Be quiet." He whispered.

I didn't answer, I only followed, creeping quietly. At the top of the stairs, he led me down a short hall and into a large bedroom. The one I had wondered whose it was; it was obviously his.

"Andrew sleeps like a damn tank, he isn't gonna wake up," Pete said as he shut the door behind me. "My parents are gonna be up soon to head downtown for some meeting at city hall."

"My dad went to meet with an employee," I sat on his bed and looked around his room; "Cool room."

"Thanks. Hasn't changed since I was 14."

Pete's room had posters of the Misfits, the Smiths, and Manic Street Preachers. He had record covers hung up too; all of Morrissey's records, and a few I hadn't ever seen before. The room was kind of messy, clothes strewn about, but not too bad. His desk was littered with pens and papers, stacks of notebooks, a laptop and 4 orange bottles of pills. And, surprisingly, his bed was made.

"How come you can't sleep?" I asked him.

"I don't know..." He sat beside me and laid back, "I think it's my new depression meds."

"What do they do?"

"Make me anxious," he snorted, "even though it's suppose to help with anxiety."

"How many do you take?" I stood up and went over to his desk, looking them over.

"Two kinds; two of those are empty."

He was right; 2 empty and 2 full. One was Ativan and the other was Lithium. My eyes widened; "You're bipolar?"

"Yeah." His response was slow. "How'd you know?"

"My step-dad, he is too. I know he takes Lithium to treat it... Still, he rages like a bitch." I set the bottles down, "Do you mind if I ask when you were diagnosed?"

Pete sat up as I returned and sat on the bed; "When I was 14. Mom thought it was ADHD, but it wasn't."

I looked Pete over; the rings around his eyes were darkened, his skin pale and he looked deathly tired. I felt for him; "How come you don't take sleeping pills?"

"I don't like the way they force me to sleep, you know what I mean? I like to fall asleep gradually."

"Yeah, I get it."

"I've listened to Asleep by the Smiths a million times trying to lull myself to sleep."

I smiled at the thought, "Gosh, I love that song."

"I do too, but I think I've heard it too many times."

"Maybe you should read," I offered, "That knocks me out."

Pete shrugged, "I haven't found any books that I like."

"Read A Farewell to Arms," I told him, "That book is fuckin' great."

Pete nodded, chuckling, "I haven't read it in a while. Maybe you're right."

I sat and talked with Pete for a good hour before we heard his parents get up and hustle around the house, and soon left. By that time, Pete was so tired that he had fallen asleep while talking to me. He was at the end of his bed with a pillow tucked between his head and arms. I got up and began to leave, forgetting where I was again. I stopped dead in my tracks when somebody said my name.