Coven of Angels Ch. 02

"Really," I muttered, as I grabbed a towel to put behind his head. I didn't mean to be disrespectful, but the idea of him offering himself as the main course of an orgy was a little unnerving. I wanted to ask if he ever considered their families or if he assumed their spouses were as cruel as my mother. Instead, I just took a seat by his side moving the soapy water over his hands and wrists.

"You ever been so alone, you feel like you're already dead?"

"No," I replied, "can't say that I have." I placed soft pressure on his wrist, massaging down his palm to his fingertips. "That's what it was like, to give up on your dreams?"

I could feel his fingers wrap around my hand. "Yeah, I guess that's it. I gave up." His voice trembled with emotion. "I heard stories of guys who fought for their families. They'd make big elaborate battle plans with their superhero lawyers. After a hard fight, they got full custody of their kids and their wives went on to remarry or overdose on meth in a trailer." My father laughed at his own joke. "That could have been me. I could have gotten my wife deported, I bet her dumb-ass never even completed the paperwork for citizenship."

He was half right. It had taken my mother until her mid-twenties to apply for a green card. She had assumed the US government would wave a magic wand and grant her citizenship when she married my father. It was only when she attempted to get my father's name removed from our apartment lease, our landlord did a background check and informed her of two things; she was not yet a citizen and as such she needed to keep my father's name on the lease. I remember that day very clearly since this also meant she had to remain married to my father (a fact which caused her to throw a massive tantrum, until she realized; the longer they were married, the more she could go after him for potential spousal support. "Why didn't you?" I asked, choking back tears. "Why didn't you fight for your family?"

"I don't have an answer to that." Richard's hand went limp, as if giving me permission to leave his side. "At times it felt too difficult, or too cruel. The military has a way of enforcing the idea of supporting family through self-sacrifice." He shook his head in visible shame. "My chain of command said I was too valuable to abandon my career. And since there was no way that my wife wasn't going to go through with the divorce, it was better for everyone for me to stay where I was."

Richard paused, pursing his lips. "I remember, the day before going to court, I asked a Chaplin for spiritual guidance. He convinced me, if I stayed the course God would find a way; I would retire at forty, reunite with my son. Even if he didn't want anything to do with me. I could use my savings to start a food truck, and maybe watch over my family like a culinary guardian angel. But sometimes God says no."

I rested my head on his shoulder, gripping my father's hand as he continued to speak.

"I got sick; headaches, seizures, horrible chronic pain. I was so afraid it was epilepsy or some other permanent condition that would get me send to med-hold. Everyone knew it was better to take a bullet, (than get sick) because at least with a bullet there was a chance you'd get disability pay. So, I self-medicated, fed my addictions. I stayed in great shape, never lost my stride. Until I started to lose my sight." A single tear rolled down his cheek. "I cried so much, but not for my career, or even the fact that I was probably going to die a slow painful death. I wept for the fact that I'd never see my son again."

I put my arms around him. At first, I tried to do this from the side of the tub but that proved awkward and uncomfortable, leaving me no choice but to climb inside. The water level raised over the tub, splashing onto the floor, as I sat on his lap, facing him. There was so much I wanted to say, but my throat refused to form words. I leaned forward and kissed him, soft and slow; starting at his forehead, down his nose, to his rough chapped lips. Our tears blended together, as our shared pain became our strength.