Harry was soft. With me. He knew. About the dark stuff. He's the one who taught me. When a man drops his guard. Gets soft. It's delicious. *** Of course, he worked on lake boats. I've heard stories. A young drunken sailor came onboard mouthing off after a trip to town. Harry laid him flat. One-shot. Below decks, there are transients. Chief engineer's the overseer. *** My father was locked down. It happened long before I came along. I think I know why. He built the fortress. For maximum protection. Used booze and food. To shield his heart. Commit a slow suicide. A long fucking ride. For his stone-cold sober daughter. *** Chuck loved Harry too. You know when you get asked the question, "What's your favourite meal?" Here's one of mine: Sitting at the foot of Harry's bed. St. Catherine's General Hospital. My dad feeding him lunch. They're talking. Friendly and loving. My heart. Like a dandelion puffball. The last time I saw Harry. *** Visiting the townhouse in Fonthill after he passed. His cane in the corner. By the front door. Left without it. Me. A million glassy shards. *** The chef I worked for didn't want me to go to Harry's funeral. Out in the back alley negotiating the terms. Of my absence. Me finally growing a backbone. Pushing back. His second concession: Drive three hours back from Welland after the service. Alone. Family coming in from all over North America. People I love. Hadn't been with some of them in years. I went. Came back the next day. Too fucking soon. The restaurant owner said to me after: "I didn't realize you were close to your grandfather." *** Anyways, forgive me if I idealize Harry. It's just I can't imagine my life without him. *** There he is rocking the rose-coloured caftan. All the men in my family wore them. *** Moonlight so right Softening upon the shore All that was will be no more It's a misty morning, misty morning, misty morning rain All is gone, then here, then gone, then here, then gone again Here and gone again Here and gone again Here and gone again 2020Comments are closed.
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