Tattooed Soul Read Free

barely reconcile the difference between
the two men, and I saw him on a daily basis. 
    Mom died, and Richard checked out of the
‘Dad’ position, and I learned to never rely on people again. So I have learned
to put on my Becky ‘fresh face’ in front of everyone. No one knew the real me,
and I keeping people out meant I never let anyone into my heart again.
    Quickly, I descended the stairs and
started to make breakfast. Richard was asleep on the recliner, but I didn’t
worry about waking him up. I could tell by the number of bottles around him
that he wasn’t going to be up for some time. Richard took to sleeping on the
recliner since the night of my mother’s death. The bed they shared has remained
untouched, but he still makes me change the sheets once a week. We went through
three different chairs, but he refused to throw them away. They sat out in the
shed in the back, silent reminders of his memories of the pain.
    Just as I placed Richard's breakfast of
toast, egg whites, and a slice of tomato in the microwave, he stirred. I tried
to quickly make my exit for school, but like most times, he caught me.
    “B-B-B-Becky, that you? Why the hell are
you slamming things around down here?” he demanded with a scratchy voice.
    I steadied myself and replied in the most
loving daughter voice I could muster, “I had to make breakfast for you,
Richard. It's time for school and work. I left yours in the microwave for when
you're ready.”
    I turned to leave and realized my mistake
too late. “Damn it! I told you to call me Dad. How many times do I have to
remind you that you live with me , and if I want you to call me Dracula,
then you will?” He tried to get up, but his recliner wouldn’t fall back into
place. “God damn this piece of shit!”
    Thankfully fate was on my side this
morning. Maybe it was my one birthday present of the year from the gods. I
quickly grabbed my backpack and headed for the door. “I’m sorry, Dad. I just
have a lot on my mind this morning. You have a great day. Love you.”
    I sicken at those words. It wasn’t that I
didn’t love “a” Richard; it just wasn’t this one. I loved the memory of the man
who would play catch with me and took my mother and me camping. This “waste of
space” Richard made me sick. I barely heard him mumble something else, but I
made it to my car. In a rush of air, I let out the breath I was holding and
laid my head on the steering wheel, trying to get my nerves under control
before I headed out for school.
    As I backed up, I noticed his truck
sitting in the driveway. If the town of Ryder took the time and realized what a
drunk they had for pastor of their precious church, they would probably be at
our house with pitchforks and bats, demanding that he resign. That was not how
the world works.
    Richard was a part of the “Good Ole Boy”
society, which in turn gave him many 'Get out of jail free' cards. People saw
him out drinking, but it was always chalked up to him 'having a good time' or
'letting off steam.'
    I had heard women at the local grocery
store say that he deserved a drink now and again for having been left by ‘that
woman’ and having to raise a daughter by himself. He would get a pat on the
back, and sometimes a friendly ride home after a long night of drinking with
the guys. No one ever called him out on it or noticed the vodka-smelling water
bottles in his truck. Ignorance was bliss.
    I pulled up in the parking lot of Ryder
High School and immediately spotted Caleb. He was standing by his latest
creation. His father owned the auto shop in town, and Caleb was well known for
his skills as a mechanic. I strolled up to his side as he was explaining to a
group of boys about the work it took to rebuild the engine in his new classic.
I could have cared less, but I feigned interest because that was what ‘fresh
face’ does.
    “Hey, Becky, there you are. I was just
showing the boys my beauty here.” He leaned over and gave me a kiss, and
although