Unsteady

After I had finished singing, there was a moment of silence, then I heard the strumming of a guitar. I forgot that my dad actually played in a band, and that was why he was never around. Sounds douchey of him, but honestly, I'm not mad at him anymore. The only reason I am frustrated by him is because he still calls me Emma, my birth name.

His Father

"Hold, hold on, hold onto me, 'cause I'm a little unsteady, a little unsteady..." I sang. It's not my own song, but that shouldn't matter, at least I'm singing to her, er, him. I have a son, no longer a daughter. And he is a beautiful young man now. I heard him begin to sing with me, slowly, uncertainly, unsteady, at first, but getting calmer, more sure as the song went on. God damn, I wish I had never left. Maybe then we wouldn't be in this situation. After the song, there was a moment of silence. "Enoch, I want you to spend the summer with me at my apartment." The words came tumbling out. "You could be an apprentice at the shop with me. I'm sure the other guys would love to meet you, and I heard you don't really have a plan for after high school. We have a lot of catching up to do."

"Yeah, you're telling me." His voice sounded bitter. "You, the man who was fucking gone for my entire childhood, is telling me, that we have catching up to do." The undertone of his voice became resignation, and he became quieter. "I would love that, dad." Score one for the never-present father, eh?

That night, I met Enoch at his house, and he was standing outside, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. There were two people flanking him, one of whom dwarfed him, and the other was about his height. I hesitated a moment before getting out, and that moment was worth it.

Enoch

I don't know what came over me, I just, I just ran up to him. I ran up to him, and hugged him. It was against my better judgement, and against Caden's advice. Caden said to stay aloof, expect disappointment, and try not to get attached. Of course, I didn't listen. The emotions just kinda overcame me, and I did that. Naturally, my father tensed up, but awkwardly returned the embrace.

"Do you want to say goodbye to your friends?" He asked me, looking down at me. In return, I shook my head.

"No," I replied, stepping back, letting him go, "I don't say goodbye. I hate goodbyes." He looked affronted, and I quickly apologized. He shook his head, telling me that it was fine, and he understood. I'm sure he did...

Anyway, I threw my bag in the backseat, and got in the passenger seat. He got in after me, and I looked at him. He looked back at me for a minute, and he smiled at me. "You know," he began, "You've grown into a handsome young man." We started off, the words hanging in the air, comforting and intimidating at the same time. 

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