Texas circa 1992

11.24.2010

We were at Corpus Christi beach when he decided that he wanted to swim. He'd already had three heart attacks by then and the scars on his chest looked like a treasure map. X marked the heart.
I was in the shallow water, partially because I was scared to go out any further but mostly because she wouldn't let me. And when his big oafish back swam over the second set of waves, she started screaming his name. "Ji-yim! Ji-yim!" She was somehow always able to turn the one syllable into two.

He probably couldn't hear her, but even if he could he would have pretended not to anyway. His selective hearing was commented on more often than not during my childhood. Instead, he flipped over to backstroke, revealing his giant belly. He was a good swimmer, I'll give him that, but she wouldn't. She was nervously pacing, frantically calling his name every few minutes or so. I stood up to pace with, her nerves now affecting me, even though I was positive at this point that he was doing this just to irritate her. I placed my hand over my eyes to peer across the water. He was out pretty far. "Aye, you call him," she partially said, partially asked. "Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad!" I screamed. I wanted to scream "Quit being such a dipshit! Mom is freaking out!" I still called her Mom back then. I called my real mom Mommy. But Dad was never Daddy. Neither of my dads were ever Daddy.

He was swimming back now. Maybe because I called? I'd undoubtedly get blamed for it later in an argument. "You wouldn't come for me, Cabron." He swam all the way up to the shallow, letting his gut get covered with sand. He laid there for too long, like a beached whale. Thinking back now, I realize he was probably tired. But then it seemed like an act of rebellion, like he was saying "I'm back, now what?"

I don't remember anything else about that day. I don't remember what I wore. I don't remember what we ate. I don't remember which relative we were visiting. Corpus Christi beach was nasty, and Mom wore Bermuda shorts, and Dad almost gave her one of those heart attacks he was so fond of having, that's all I remember from that day. But just that little sliver of a memory is enough to make me miss back then, when my biggest worry was sunburning my scalp. I didn't know yet that he'd be gone soon. Didn't realize how much I'd miss something as stupid as their arguments, the smell of his undershirts, that assured feeling of knowing myself.