The Strangest of Father's Days

     (I want to preface this posting. This is a writing of mine I expected to keep to myself. It was written the evening of Father's Day, 2010. At the time, I was single and not necessarily looking for someone to come into my life. I've lived a life never shying away from things that may make others uncomfortable, but, COME ON, these are my parents we're talking about here! Have any of you had a similar experience? I want need to hear about it.)

     In the scheme of chaotic things that make up my life, I need a constant that grounds me; something to keep things in a certain perspective.  For my entire adult life, this stabilizing force has been my parents.

     For those who don’t know my parents, my Dad is a man’s man. Blue collar to the core and devoted to Mom. He’s never cheated, he’s never raised a hand and he’s never called her a bad name. All this yet he still frustrates her to no end. The only reason she never left him is because he is one of those men that swoops in and unknowingly does an absolutely perfect romantic gesture that buys him more time. 

     

     My Mom on the other hand is hard core German. Rough but fair. She doesn’t put up with much and I’ve never met anyone stupid enough to challenge the 300 pound personality she carries in her 80 pound frame.

     

     They are proof; opposites attract.

     

     At this point there is a little more background that is needed before I can proceed.  You don’t need the details, so I’ll spare you, but here are the highlights. 

I "Luff" You!

     How often will we fall in love during our lifetime? Will we really truly fall in love as many times as we think? Or are we only fooling ourselves?

     How many times a day do we say we “love” something? “I really love that shirt!” or even, “I love the hamburgers at Five-Guys!” Some of us even, "...love watching reruns of Sex and the City!” Then, with the same auto-pilot temperament, turn to our significant other and profess, “I love you.”

     In most cases we really do love that person, but we also love that shirt and the hamburgers at Five-Guys. Because of this ambiguity, I came up with another word besides Love to use with my Soul-needle. The next time (last time) I fall in love – true love – I am going to hold her close, look deeply into her eyes and say, “I Luff You.”

     Silly? Maybe. But it’s something I’ve never said to anyone before. It will let that person know she has something from me I have never given to anyone else. I have to let her know that even though I love that dress she’s wearing, I luff her.

     I thought I had tasted true love in the past. I believed I held it right in the palm of my heart. I held it tight and didn’t let go for awhile. Everyone thinks love is elation and comfort and security. It can also reveal past pain and regret and grief. There’s a reason the heart is the symbol for love; because that’s where you feel the pain and exhilaration of love. Wives clutch their hands to their breastbone protecting their heart when their husbands pass away. Men pull their children’s heads to their chest to comfort them. Girls hold their hand over their heart while being proposed to; feeling the palpitations which prove to them it’s real. In good moments and bad, when love is real, the heart processes it.

Daniel and Sylvia (Part 3)

     Sylvia stood in the doorway of the bathroom inspecting the figure on the bed. The light filtering through the window gave his body an angelic quality. He had obviously reached for her after she slipped from the bed to use the bathroom, grabbing his shirt from the night before to wear. There was no need for modesty with Daniel; she wore his shirt to keep him close to her.

     She watched as he stirred, unconsciously sliding his hand over her side of the bed, still looking for her. The sheets were in tangles below his waist, revealing the upper part of his legs and butt.  Her eyes traced the muscles her fingers had navigated only a few hours ago.

     She had seen him naked many times before yet still couldn’t keep her body from reacting. She loved the thick waves of hair her fingers gravitated to every time they kissed. There were touches of gray peeking out and she teased him about it last night. His eyes, so at peace when he slept, sparked fires in her stomach when he caught her glance during the daylight hours. She swore he could see inside her, deep into the places she never allowed another to go.

Daniel and Sylvia (Part 2)

      The bank of six elevators lined the hallway just outside the entrance to Baroque’s. Three to the left, three to the right, like two teams faced off to play some mechanical blinking game. The panels on the last door to the left were beginning to shut and he dashed forward hoping he would make it in time. 

     As he threw his arm out to keep the doors from shutting all the way, a flurry of thoughts spun inside his head. He thought of how cliché he felt, running after the girl like in every chick-flick he'd been coerced into watching. When those predictive scenes came on he would wonder if it was really possible for two people to experience a love so strong they would actually run like a maniac down a city street. Now, he realized, he was one of those lovestruck fools.

     Even with all the thoughts and questions he had spinning in his head, the one he needed answered first was: What was she doing in his town?!

Daniel and Sylvia (Part 1)

     There was no doubt he was going to get in trouble for what he was about to do. Even knowing eyes were cautiously watching him, he wasn’t about to keep from doing it. For the last six years he had played out his forbidden act at least a few times each of those years and, quite frankly, it had become a bit of a game to him.

     Daniel had been frequenting Baroque’s on the top floor of the Ritz-Carlton since that day six years ago when he landed a position as a Sales Associate for a Medical Supply Company. Coupled with the final hearing of his divorce three weeks earlier, he felt the need to celebrate a new start to his life. A life he hoped would be full of happiness, stability, and eventually, true love; things which had been sorely missing for him. That evening, after getting the call he was the candidate hired, he tapped “Cleveland fancy restaurants” into Google and told himself the first result was where he would treat his newfound beginning. Since that first ceremonial dinner, this cavernous restaurant with its $50 steak dinners, minimalistic décor and patrons who come to rub elbows rather than to eat had become his celebratory hiding place. Anytime he earned a promotion or sold an account the rest of the office envied, this was where he came to do his private end-zone dance. He would always call ahead and ask the maître d, Marques, to save his table in the corner where the walls were windowed from floor to ceiling, showcasing the entire Cleveland nightline before him.

     Tonight, Daniel was sitting with his back against the line of windows which showcased the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Almost always, he would sit with his back to the other patrons so he could take in the horizon and pretend he was all alone in his temporary triumph. For some reason tonight he was in the mood to people-watch. Of course he ran the risk of being caught sooner with what he was about to do but he didn’t care. He took a quick look around, making sure no one was watching before reaching inside his suit jacket. He noticed as he reached for what was in his pocket Marques purposefully turned his back from him as had become their routine.