Photo by Glenn Carstens-Peters on Unsplash
When Dad got laid off from work, he started playing video games. Mom thought this would last a day or two, but this went on for a while. He’d wake up, eat breakfast, go to the living room, and start playing. When Dad would lose (which was often), he would curse. Mom told him to put a dollar in the swear jar. After a week, the swear jar was full.
But Dad kept playing and losing and cursing. After a while, he didn’t have any more money to put in the swear jar, and he asked Mom if he could take money out of my college savings. That’s when Mom made Dad see a shrink. The shrink told Mom that they think Dad suffers from low self-esteem. “He also seems to be terrified of failure,” said the shrink, which I thought was ironic. “Just let this run its course.”
So, that’s what we did. We didn’t bother Dad anymore. He kept playing. He seemed happier, which was nice. But, then, he started to forget about things. Like, he missed my brother’s basketball tournament, and he forgot about my 8th grade award ceremony. Mom said it just “slipped” his mind. He didn’t mean any harm.
Then Dad started to miss birthdays and funerals and anniversaries. When our cat, Sasha, and our turtle, Jamba Juice, died, Mom dug up the graves. My brother and I prayed for Sasha and Jamba Juice. Dad was still inside, playing video games.
After a while, Dad stopped paying attention to us. Mom was hurt at first, but eventually, she moved on. She decided to leave Dad. When she moved out of the house, so did my brother and I. Mom started dating, found someone on a dating app, and now she’s married again. My brother went off to the military, and I went off to college. We’re all doing good, for the most part. I call Dad once in a while just to see how he’s doing. He says, “Fine,” and asks about my brother. He’ll ask about Mom, too.
I’ll say, “They’re doing fine,” and he’ll say, “Uh huh, uh huh,” still with his video games playing in the background. He still calls me, ‘sweetie pie,’ which is nice. Like, when we hang up, he’ll say, “Love you, sweetie pie.”
And I’ll say, “Love you, too, Dad.” And for a second, I actually mean it.
Ernesto Reyes is a writer and teacher from Central California. His stories have appeared in San Joaquin Review, Brilliant Flash Fiction, Better than Starbucks, Maudlin House, and elsewhere. He lives with his beloved family and rambunctious Pomeranian in a small town on the rural outskirts of Fresno.