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Friday Night |
| Written by Nate Stanford | |
| Sunday, 11 May 2008 | |
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Share it:      And so, I found myself wasting yet another Friday with my father. We pulled up to the gym across the street from the church at 9:32 P.M., both of us peaceful in our silence. It was only a few hours before I was smoking pot in a forest with some friends and I was still grumbling about what a waste of time it was. I would have told my father all about considering he did that sort of thing when he was a kid, but he was too fragile at this point. Much too fragile. Stepping out of the car he pulled a smoke from his pocket and lit up, taking my brain to the place I was just a few hours ago. I lingered behind him inhaling the smoke, and we stood out the door of the gym, the commotion from the inside clear in the night air. "You're not going in?" my father asked me; I was halted in front of the doorway, keeping myself out of sight from the small window on the door. "Nope. I'll wait for you. You look like you need some company." I mumbled back to him, lying through my teeth.
"Alright. Gimme a minute, and we'll go in. Okay?" he was impatient with me, he probably needed some time by himself, recapping on the days events. When he had gotten home from work he made dinner, we ate, and he grasped only a few moments of the Sox game before we got into the car and drove here. "Okay." I mumbled again, speaking softly. I didn't like to go in before him for a few reasons, mainly because I wasn't that good at volleyball, and so when my dad brought me, I could sense an air of disappointment amoung the other guys. But still, my father dragged me to this church every Friday, it was almost routine. The weekends I spent with my mom were the ones I usually got away from doing this, but my dad made an effort to get me here. 'You'll grow up to be a great volleyball player' he would always tell me, my mom right behind him in his expectations for me. "Alright, lets head in." my dad called to me, across the patio from where I was. He patted me on the back and ruffled my hair, the high instantly kicking back in before I could smile and return the favor. Copyright 2008 Nate Stanford |
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