[pt. II] father's day

I’m up early again, for no apparent reason; the bed I have in my basement office creaks a little bit as I strain to get up and turn on the lamp on my desk. Looking through the basement window, I see the usual morning dark blue hues. I won’t go upstairs until I see it turn orange. Gingerly, I put a cigarette in my mouth, just hanging off the lips. It rests in its usual spot. I find myself fiddling with a lighter in my hand, just to see if it works, checking to make sure it will work for me the day I decide to light it; the doctor told me it’d probably be the last thing I did, but in my life so far, it seems like the only thing I have done… I put the lighter and cigarette back on the desk.

The bills have ran ahead of me again; I thought that without having to worry about child support or college bills anymore it would be easier, but it was just in time to get a new set of bills; she insists that our 5-year old needs piano lessons… why do they always need piano lessons? Absurd. Absurd to think that it would even make a difference in the grand scheme of things — it’s my second time around and I’m still not doing the leading. Pause. My hands feel overly-plump again; the feeling spreads through my body. I must’ve had too much of something yesterday, my body just can’t handle the things I used to enjoy anymore.

The medicine I’m looking for is waiting for me is in the nightstand next to our bed upstairs. She sleeps soundly, so young, “appreciate this moment,” I think to myself, “as young as you are, you’ll get old one day, too.” I take my pills, and get ready for the day.

At work, my phone rings, “it’s your son,” the voice says.
“Oh? Put him through, then,” quickly, my head runs through several possibilities until I hear a small voice squeak into the phone.
“Hi, Daddy,” it says. Why do they all go through the, “Daddy,” phase? When does it stop? I forget…
“Hey, what’s up?”
“I just wanted to say hi.” He’s the sweetest child I’ve ever met. Why didn’t the others do this?
“You did?”
“Yup, Mommy put the numbers in for me,” he had to make her do it for him. I’m smiling, because I know for as smart as this kid is, my other son was already trying to make his own breakfast; I went home to find him slurping up a raw egg, very much confused as to why it wasn’t hard-boiled.
“Did you like your breakfast?” My boss motions at me from behind the glass door.
“What did you have?”
“Cereal” I can feel my work piling up already; I clear my throat.
“Look, son, Daddy has to go back to work now, okay?”
“Alright, I’ll see you at home.” I start hanging up the phone.
“Happy Father’s D-.” An icicle stabs through my heart for a moment. Father’s Day?


I’m up too late again. I haven’t gotten much sleep this past week; I don’t plan on fixing it, either. I find myself sitting at my desk in the basement, staring at my phone. Father’s Day. I should be getting at least two more calls…


I sit, and the hours pass. The cigarette ends up in my mouth again, and I wait.
and wait.

I watch the smoke trying to find its way to the open window and beg for it to stay, so I can enjoy the moment a bit longer… It’s gone.

[pt. II] father's day


Joined July 2008

  • Artist

Artist's Description

part 2



desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

10% off

for joining the Redbubble mailing list

Receive exclusive deals and awesome artist news and content right to your inbox. Free for your convenience.