A Man Named Dave

walked behind you, tracing your steps. I had those little Forest Ranger boots, and I tried to keep up while being as quiet as I could. I think I made it five, maybe ten feet away from the cabin, when you heard me. You spun around so fast I thought you were going to bite my head off, but you –” I stopped for a second to smile at Father’s face. “You simply extended your giant hand and scooped my fingers into yours … Then, without a word, you let me walk with you.
    “I have to say, as a kid that was pretty cool. At the time, between Ron, Stan, and me, to be able to hog a few minutes alone with you, well, back then that was all I talked about after our walk. It was that summer when I knew that’s where I wanted to live. The trees, the river, the smell, those precious moments with you, that’s when I knew. Back then, with you, I was safe. Back then you were my superhero; you were my Superman. I know it sounds kinda dumb,” I scoffed, “but that was the only time you held my hand. When you wanted to be with me.”
    I stopped for a moment to close my eyes. As I did, my vision with Father faded away. I could feel my insides swell up. As a teenager in foster care, I couldn’t wait to become an adult so Father and I could work through our past. I had somehow hoped it would bring us closer together. I had no intention of making him upset or trying to use what happened to pin the blame on anyone. I simply thought if I had the answers, I would free myself from being doomed to repeat the tragedy of mindless hate and violence. Looking down at Father, I felt that Mother had deliberately manipulated this situation, calling me only after Father was unable to utter a single syllable.
    “When I was at The House, I remember all those times you’d come home from the fire station for just a few minutes to check in on me. Mother didn’t know it, but I made sure I timed your arrival when I was washing the dishes so I could actually see you. Sometimes I got too far behind with my chores and … well, you know Mother … I paid the price when you were gone. I knew she’d never allow you to go down to the basement, so I’d wash the dishes over and over until I heard you open the front door.” I paused to stare directly into Father’s eyes. “You saved me. Even though it was only for a few seconds alone in the kitchen, it made all the difference. Sometimes if you brushed against me, I’d breathe in your Old Spice cologne. You were my invisible force field. I’m just sorry you, the boys – everyone – had to deal with so much crap. I somehow thought I’d be able to make it up to you – to everyone.
    “You see, Dad, I knew. I always knew you came back to the house for me. And now, no matter what happens, I’m here for you. No matter what anybody says, I’ll protect your honor.”
    From behind me I heard Alice close the door. Without breaking my train of thought, I nodded at Mrs Turnbough and continued talking. For the first time in my life I was actually opening up to my father.
    “As a kid, I was always proud of you being a fireman. I … I, ah, remember when Mom was a den mother for the Cub Scouts and she drove the pack down to your fire station on Post Street. You looked so cool in your dark blue uniform, leaning against the polished fire truck. I think I was maybe in the first grade. It was then that I knew I wanted to be a fireman. That’s why I joined the air force.” I abruptly stopped. I didn’t have the guts to tell him the truth: I was a pathetic “Food Service Specialist”. Even if I lied, I knew Father would hear it in my voice. I so badly wanted him to be proud of me. I wanted to prove to him that I was not a loser, that I would not end up like … like …
    A flash of embarrassment washed over me. The more I gazed at Father, the more I saw myself as a hopeless creature that, no matter how hard I tried, would not amount to anything.
    As I cleared my head, my mind flashed to Father’s fireman badge. “Dad,” I asked, “Dad, do you … do … do you still have your badge? Your fireman’s badge?”
    I pictured the time he had blushed with pride as he displayed his silver badge, with his identification numbers stamped above the seal. “It’s the only thing he has,” I said to Alice in a soft voice, “that showed what he did. After everything, it’s all he has …”
    “David!” Alice gently whispered. “Your father, look!”
    My head snapped back toward Father. His head continued to twitch, but now more to the right, while his eyes strained as if