I opened the door to a man I thought I knew. Mangy black beard, torn jeans, and a faded blue sweatshirt doing poorly at hiding his drinker’s gut. He smelled like a wet dog and wore a swindler’s smile. “Hey son. How’s it goin’?” he asked with a voice like sandpaper.
I stepped away from the door, using the wall to keep myself from falling over. “Dad?” My voice came out weak and hoarse. He laughed and strolled inside my apartment.
I forced myself out of the shock and followed him to the living room, where he stood admiring the furniture. He turned to me and whistled. “Well look at this place. You sure made it well for yourself, huh?” I winced as he plopped on the couch. “I could get used to a place like this. Mind if I smoke?”
I started to say no, but the lighter was already in his hand. He took a drag of his cigarette — Marlboro, same as back then — and sunk into the couch. “Yep, could definitely get used to this,” he said. “Forgot what it was like to just kick back and relax. Whatd’ya do to live here? Doctor, maybe?”
I stared and said nothing. So many questions swirled inside me, each clawing at one another to have the first go. So much I wanted to say, but no clue how to begin. So I started with the obvious.
“What happened?” I asked.
Dad took a deep drag before he looked up. “Huh?”
My blood began to rise. “You know what I mean. You left what, fifteen years ago, to get a pack of those damn smokes and never came back. So what happened?”
Dad propped his feet against the coffee table. “Well, you know. Little bit of this, little bit of that. Long story, don’t have time to tell it now.”
“Then why —”
“Look, ah… John, right?”
“Jacob.”
“Of course! Look, Jacob, I’m in a bit of a pickle right now. Could you lend me a bit of cash?”
The distant sirens suddenly became more pronounced. I didn’t try to hide my distaste.
Seeing my face, he waved his hands. “No, no, no. I’ve turned over a new leaf! I can pay you back in full, I promise. Just need to tie up some loose ends, then I can get my life back on track. Might even be able to see you more, catch up on dad and son things. Sounds good, right?”
Heat rushed behind my eyes. There was so much I deserved to know. How he felt about mom and I. What had made him this way. If he even remembered all the times we had before he disappeared. And now he was here. But all I wanted to do was throttle him until his face turned blue.
Dad cleared his throat, bringing me back to reality. “So whaddya say? Wanna help out your old man?”
I took a deep breath, then went over to the kitchen and grabbed my wallet. “Here,” I said, pulling out a hundred and twenty. “Take it.”
Dad shot up and flicked the still-burning cigarette to the floor. “You’re a real champ, son,” he said with a smile, reaching to snatch the bills.
I pulled them back and placed my other hand on his shoulder. I made sure we had eye contact before I spoke. “I don’t know how you found me,” I said, with as much restraint as I could manage, “but don’t come back. Or I’ll call the cops.”
We locked eyes for what felt like forever. His smile remained, but the cold stare betrayed the truth. When it seemed certain he understood, I held out the bills.
He hesitated for a moment, then yanked the money from my hand. “Ungrateful…” he muttered as he bumped past me. He slammed the front door on the way out.
From my window, I watched him leave the apartment complex entrance and disappear into an alleyway. His truck crept out and sped off a minute later. A few minutes after that, some cop cars zoomed past the building, sirens blaring.
I stomped out the cigarette he left as a gift, then collapsed on the sofa. I sighed, breathing in the smell of the man I thought I knew. But that man was a stranger, and my dad never came back from his smoke trip.