Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
But that gun, well, it could change things alright. I was never afraid of guns like some kids first learning to hunt. Weapons in general. I liked messing around with Daddy’s guns, even though he and Mama told me and my brothers not to. I don’t believe he ever had them loaded with bullets when they weren’t locked up. But at that moment, I hoped he’d slipped up and left one in by mistake. I had life and death in my hands. In that dark moment, I was God. Daddy came to the front of me, and I looked up at him. He was tall and willowy. Tattoos all over his body. Long, wild, dark hair. Gun still raised. He didn’t yell at me or hit the roof. He just gently took it from my grasp, calmly told me it was dangerous, and marched me in the house. We sat down in the living room. A little yellow nightlight was on, and the soft glow from the kitchen ebbed through. I could see the toaster, and a box of cereal on the counter. As I turned back towards Daddy, I figured I’d be getting my spanking soon, but only after a good talkin’ to.
It was quiet in the house… everyone else was asleep. Daddy didn’t say anything for a long while. Instead, he went to the kitchen, poured me a glass of milk, and we sat on the big brown couch in the living room. The one that smelled like cigarettes, dog hair, and bubblegum. He cracked open a can of beer, chugged it, and sat back, leaning into the cushions. Almost disappearing like some phantom.
We stared at one another. Shadow to shadow. Light to light. Sun to sun. Sheep to sheep.
“Boy, outta all three of my kids, you the one that looks and acts just like me. You’re a curse and a blessing, and I love the hell out of you.” I had no idea what he meant by that last part, but I took it as a compliment all the same. ‘What do you want to be when you grow up, Roman? You’re good with impressions. Maybe you can do somethin’ like that.”
“I don’t know. People who do impressions I don’t think make much money, daddy.” I did these silly impressions mostly for attention, because I was damn good at throwing my voice, and to get a laugh out of folks. I like making people laugh. I could do parodies of cartoon characters like Scooby Doo, Batman, Ren and Stimpy, and I did impersonations of my father all the time, the president of the United States, and famous actors, too.
“Daddy, maybe I could be a race car driver, but only if they’re rich.”
He laughed at that.
“You sound like your grandfather now. All that old bastard cares about is money… he’s greedy.”
“Daddy?”
“Yeah, son?”
“Why does Grandpa hate you?”
Daddy gave me an odd look. I suppose in retrospect, he wanted to know why’d I’d ask such a thing, and on top of that, he probably wasn’t even sure how to answer.
‘I ’magine it’s for a lot of reasons, Roman. One is, I’m not who he wants me to be. Every parent, I figure, has hopes and dreams for their children.” Daddy shrugged. “Want you to go to college, the military, or trade school, somethin’ like that. Most parents I figure want their children to think just like they think, too. Be little carbon copies of themselves. No mind of their own. Same religion. Same beliefs. Same feelings. That’s what Grandpa wanted. To just duplicate himself like some Xerox machine. I would do the opposite of what my father wanted me to—not because I was trying to ruffle his feathers. I just wasn’t him is all. I thought differently. Saw the world in a different way. I also look like my mother.”
“I never met her. Was I too young to remember her?”
“No, Roman. She died when I was young. When your grandfather looks at me like I’m lookin’ at you, instead of being happy and lovin’ on me, he resents me. He saw her in me, I think. He was angry with her. I have no idea why. He’s never said. She died and left him alone, though. That may have had something to do with it. Your grandfather hates being alone for long periods of time. Not ’cause he missed her, but because he wasn’t done with her quite yet.”
“So… Grandpa hates you ’cause you look like a lady?”
Daddy laughed at that, his body shaking with mirth.
“You’re so funny, kid… Nah, not that. It’s complicated, Roman.” He crushed his beer can and tossed it on the floor. “It’s hard to explain to a child.”
“It might be hard to explain to me, Daddy, but it’s easy for me to see it hurts you…”