All I Know Is I Can't Hide

“Are you sure that's your last?”

“Yuhuh, it's my last one, I promise,” he slurred.

I rolled my eyes.

“Sure, but don't forget that you're getting a ride home from Steve tonight so don't let him drink too much either. I don't want a phone call at 3 a.m. with some cop telling me that you're dead. I won't be happy.”

“Aw sweetie come on, you love you're daddy, right?”

“Course I love you but I'm not sure if I love you enough to haul my ass out of bed at three in the morning to drive down to the hospital and tell them that it is in fact you that's dead. Not like everyone in this goddamn town doesn't know you.”

“Sure, honey. Now why don't you head on home, let old dad take care of himself.”

“Old dad, last time I let you take care of yourself you came home with no eyebrows and a tattoo. No fucking way am I letting you take care of yourself. Do you know how much it costs to for fake eyebrows? A lot.”

“Come on now, it was fun!”

“No, Dad, you don't even remember what happened and I promise it wasn't fun. Now I'm heading home so don't get too drunk, and I want you home by one. OK?”

“One?! Two, no earlier.”

“No. One.”

“Twelve-thirty!”

“Kay, twelve-thirty, not a minute later.”

“You're a good girl, Lissa, your mother would be proud.”

“Alright, Dad. See you at twelve-thirty. I love you.”

“Love you too!,” my father responded, a stupid smile spread across his handsome face. I rolled my eyes and leaned over the bar to remind the bartender to keep an eye on him and Steve.

“Don't let him have more than a pint. And no shots,you know carried away he gets.”

“Sure thing, Lissa, what time you want them outta here?”

“No later than midnight please. See you tomorrow,” I shouted back as I turned to walk out the door.

A gust of frigid air pressed against me as I stepped outside and hurried over to my car, careful not to step on any ice as I pulled my keys from my jacket pocket and unlocked it.

I opened the door to my old Mustang, climbed in, and cranked up the heat and the radio. Nothing good was playing so I switched to my Led Zeppelin CD and sang along. It took me about an hour to get home and by the time I pulled up to our house, I was exhausted and not looking forward to work the next day. Fortunately it was only 10 o'clock and I figured I could get a reasonable amount of sleep before I had to wake up at 0darkhundred the next day.

I walked up the front steps to the house and pulled out my keys again, cursing the cold weather. I opened the door, stepped inside, and promptly tripped over a package my father had left in the front hall to get taken, by me, to the UPS store in town. Now, we had the biggest house in our county, probably state, so I couldn't fathom why he had to leave it in the one place where I would trip over it but he was my dad and I just shrugged it off, promising myself I would reprimand him the next morning.

That night, my father died.

Of course the sheriff called me at three in the morning, annoyingly chipper for the hour and the situation at hand.

“Lissa? It's Sheriff McClinty, I have bad news.”

“Goddammit, McClinty I know who you are; what did he do?”

“Well Lissa, Steve's car hit a tree, and your father is hurt pretty bad.”

“Where are you and I'll be there, and I swear to God if one of your goddamn officers stops me for going over the goddamn speed limit, there'll be hell to pay.”

“Were at the beginning of Lost Stage Road, EMT's are here, how about we meet at the hospital?”

He wasn't done speaking before I hung up, threw my clothes on and was out the door. Thirty minutes later I was at the closest hospital and got there just in time to see the ambulance pull up and watch the EMTs lift my dad out of the back on a gurney. I almost threw up.

I'd seen my father drunk, in tears, in just about ever imaginable state but never had I seen him in such a complacent state. An IV hanging from a limp arm, oxygen being pumped into his lungs.