Chapter 6 chapter Five

"Morning, Dad." I staggered into the kitchen, and the bright sunlight in the morning made it hard to keep my eyes open.I?#91;looked and saw Dad standing in front of the stove.The smell of fried bacon wafted in the air. "Oh, morning, John." I slumped down in the chair, still not fully awake. "Yeah, I know I got up early today and just wanted to chat before you go to work." "Oh, well, I'll cook a little more breakfast." Dad seemed happy, even though I disrupted his usual routine .It was at times like this that I realized that Dad was actually happy to have me around.

"Is there any coffee?" "It's in the coffee pot." I poured myself a cup, walked back to the table and sat down.The newspaper was lying on the table untouched. Dad always read it at breakfast, and I knew it was best not to touch it until then.Pa was adamant about being the first to open the paper and always reading it in the same order. I was hoping Dad would ask me about my date with Savannah last night, but he didn't say anything and just concentrated on making breakfast.Looking at the clock, I know that in a few minutes, Savannah will go to the construction site.I don't know if she misses me as much as I miss her.It must have been a hectic morning for her, so I figured it probably wasn't possible, which unexpectedly made me a little sad.

Finally, trying to get Savannah out of my mind, I asked, "What were you doing last night?" Dad went on making breakfast and didn't seem to hear me. "Dad? How was last night?" "What's okay?" "Did you do anything fun last night?" "No. Nothing." Dad smiled at me and flipped the bacon in the pot On the surface, the sizzling sound became louder. "I had a great time last night." I said to myself, "Savana was really good. We went to church together yesterday." I thought Dad would ask questions, and I have to admit I hoped he would be curious, Imagine this starting a real conversation, the kind a typical father and son would have: Dad might laugh out loud, or embarrass me or something.But Dad's reaction was to light a fire on another stove, pour a little oil on the small frying pan, and pour in the beaten egg.

Dad finally said, "Put some slices of bread in the oven, please?" I sighed, and said, "Okay, of course." I knew very well that breakfast would be spent in silence again. I spent the rest of the day surfing, or rather, trying to surf.After one night, the sea was too calm to play with a few small waves.To make matters worse, the waves were closer to the shore than the day before, and even if there were a few big waves, it didn't take long for the waves to recede.In the past, I might have gone to Oak Island, or even driven north to Atlantic Beach, and then to Knight Leve Beach, to see if the situation would be better.But today I just don't have that interest.

I just stayed where I was surfing for two days.Savannah's house, on the other side of the beach, looked like no one was there. The back door was closed, the towels outside were gone, no one was in the windows, and no one was coming out onto the patio.I wondered when they'd be back, maybe until four or five in the afternoon, and I'd already decided that by then I'd be long gone.First of all, I have no reason to be here, and the last thing I want is for Savannah to think I'm stalking her. Around three in the afternoon, I left the beach and wandered over to "The Hot".The bar looked more dingy and dirty than I remembered, I hated the place as soon as I walked in, I always thought it was a so-called insider's orthodox bar!There are a few solitary men with Tennessee whiskey in front of them. They just bury their heads in their glasses and try to escape the difficulties of life. I think this is indeed proof of an expert alcoholic.The boss, Le Roy, was still there, and he recognized me as soon as I walked in.Sitting down in front of the bar, he automatically took a glass and started filling beer.

"Long time no see, no trouble?" I muttered, "Try it!" I looked around the bar as Leroy slid his glass across the bar to me. "The bar looks nice, I like it." I gestured behind me. "Very good. Would you like something to eat?" "No. Thank you." Leroy wiped the bar in front of me, put the rag over his shoulders, and walked away to greet others.After a while, someone tapped me on the shoulder. "Yo John, what brought you here?" I turned around and saw a friend who was drifting away from me.That's what happened in "The Heat".I hate everything here, including my former drinking and meat friends.Now I understand that I have always been like this: I don't know why I came here, and I don't know why I was a regular customer at one time, I just know that there seemed to be no other place to go at that time.

"Hey, Toby." Thin Toby sat down next to me, eyes glazed over as he turned to look at me, smelled like he hadn't showered in days and his clothes were stained. "Still playing Rambo? Looks like he's exercising!" Toby said inarticulately. "Yes." I don't want to say more. "What have you been up to?" "Wandering around, the last few weeks. Used to work at a convenience store, but the owner was an asshole." "Still living at home?" "Of course." Toby sounded like Still proud, he took a swig from the bottle and noticed my arm. "You look very strong, are you exercising?" He asked again.

"Occasionally." I knew he didn't remember asking. "You're really strong." I couldn't think of anything else to say, and Toby took another sip of his drink. "Hey, Mandy's having a party tonight, do you remember Mandy?" Yeah, I do.A girl from the past, our relationship only lasted a weekend.Toby was still talking. "Mandy and her mom and dad went to New York or something, so it should be awesome. We're going to celebrate now, do you want to come?" Toby pointed behind him, four men sitting in the corner, at the table There are three empty wine jugs.Two of them were with me before, and I didn't know the other two.

"Maybe it can't be helped." I replied, "I'm going to have dinner with my dad tonight. But thank you for the invitation." "Never mind it, it's more fun, Ah Jin will come too!" Another woman who belonged to the past, let I frowned again in my heart, almost unable to bear my past self. "There's really no way." I shook my head and stood up, the glass in front of me still almost full. "I promised my dad, he let me live in his house, you understand?" Toby finally understood, he nodded. "Let's get together that weekend! A group of us are going surfing on Oak Creek Island." "Let's talk about it!" "Your phone number hasn't changed?" No phone calls, and I'm not going back to the Hotline.

On the walk home, I bought some steaks, along with a package of salads, bottles of sauce, and some potatoes.When you don't have a car, it's really not easy to walk all the way home with these things in your hands, plus a surfboard.But I don't mind.It has been like this for several years, not to mention that the shoes on my feet are much more comfortable than the boots worn in the army. When I got home, I lugged the grill out of the garage, along with a pack of coals and lighter fluid.The grill was dusty and seemed like it hadn't been used in years.I set up the grill on the back porch, cleaned out the soot, then hosed down the cobwebs and let it dry in the sun.Back in the kitchen, I marinate the meat with salt and pepper and a little garlic powder, wrap the potatoes in foil and send them to the oven, and pour the salad into a bowl.Once the grill was dry, I lit the fire for the barbecue and set the table in the back yard.Just as he was putting the meat on the grill, Dad walked in.

"Hi, Dad." I turned to say hello. "I'll cook dinner tonight." "Oh." Dad seemed to need a moment to realize that he didn't have to prepare dinner for me today. "Okay," he said finally. "How rare do you want the steak to be?" "Five." Dad was still standing by the sliding glass door. "You haven't used the grill since I left. You should be grilling. Steak grill is the best, just thinking about it makes me salivate on the way home." "I'm going to get changed. "Dinner will be on the table in ten minutes." After Dad left, I went back to the kitchen and got the potatoes and the salad bowl and the salad dressing and the cream and the steak sauce and put it all on the table.Hearing the sliding door open, Dad stepped out, holding two glasses of milk, looking like a tourist on a cruise.Dad was wearing shorts, black socks, tennis shoes, like he hasn't worn shorts in ages, I mean if he ever wore them.Come to think of it, I'm not sure I've ever seen him in shorts and had to try and pretend he looked normal. "Just in time," I said as I walked back to the grill.Two plates were filled with steaks, and one of them was placed in front of Dad. "Thanks." "You're welcome." Dad spooned a little salad onto the plate, poured some sauce, and unwrapped the foil from the potatoes.Cream was added to the potatoes, and the steak sauce was poured, and there was a puddle of sauce on the plate.This is all normal and nothing unexpected.But all in silence. "How was your day?" I asked, as usual. "Same." Dad's answer was the same as usual.He smiled, but said nothing more. This is my dad, who is not good at socializing.I wondered again why the conversation was so difficult for him?Thinking about what he was like when he was young.How did dad find someone to marry?I know that last question sounds venomous, but I meant no harm, just curiosity.After continuing to eat for a while, the only sound that accompanied the dinner was the knocking of cutlery. "Savana said she wanted to see you." I finally said, trying again. "That's your friend's lady?" My dad is the only person in the world who can say that. "Yeah, I think you'd like her." Dad nodded. I went on to explain, "She's a student at the University of North Carolina." Dad knew it was his turn, and I saw him breathe a sigh of relief when the question came out. "How did you guys meet?" I told Dad about the bag, trying to spice things up and make the story interesting, but he just didn't laugh. "That's a lot like you," Dad commented. This is the end of the conversation.I cut another steak. "Dad, can I ask a question?" "Okay." "How did you and Mom meet?" It's the first time I've asked this in years.I have never had the role of a mother in my life, and because I have no memory of it, I don't really feel the need to ask.Even now, I don't really care too much, I just want Dad to talk to me.Dad slowly added more cream to the potatoes, and I knew he didn't want to answer. Finally he said, "We met at the restaurant. Your mother is the waiter there." I continued to wait, but there seemed to be no more. "Is she pretty?" "Yeah." "What kind of person is she?" Pa mashed the potatoes with a fork and added some salt, very carefully in the way he sprinkled it. Finally Dad came to the conclusion: "She looks a lot like you." "What do you mean?" "Um..." Dad hesitated, "She's...stubborn sometimes." I wasn't sure what Dad meant or what to think .Before thinking too much, Dad stood up, cup in hand. "Would you like some milk?" Pa asked. I know he won't say any more.