Excerpt
I knew something was wrong when I got off the bus and saw Dads Jeep sitting in the driveway. Hes never here when I get home from school. I ran into the house and threw my backpack down on the kitchen table, not even stopping to raid the refrigerator. He must not have heard me come into the house because he sort of jumped up when I came into the bedroom. I dont know who was more surprised. He was standing there with a picture in his hand. Although he tried to hide it, tears were streaming down the side of his face.
Dad, whats wrong? Why are you home so early? What are you doing? It was then that I noticed the open suitcase on the bed with his clothes and stuff in it. Are you going off to a conference?
Well, not exactly. Im going away for a while. But Ill talk to you everyday on the phone, I promise.
Can I go with you? I wont be any trouble.
No, Peanut. You cant come with me. Your mom needs you here. It had been years since he called me Peanut, but now didnt seem like the time to get mad at him for going back to my childhood name.
Isnt Mom going with you? I dont understand why youre leaving.
Well, I really dont want to go into it with you right now, but Ive made a mistake. A big mistake. And your mom is very hurt and wants me to leave. I think its best right now, so we can sort things out. I wanted your mom and me to sit down together and explain everything to you, but you surprised me. I planned to pick up a few things and get out of here before you got home from school. By the way, did you have a good day?
I did until now. It was actually a great day. What do you mean you made a mistake? Cant you just say youre sorry?
Of course I can, and I did. In as many ways as I possibly could. But shes still hurt and needs time away from me.
So when will you be back?
I really dont know. We have to work through a lot of things. But this is not for you to worry about. You have got to understand that this has nothing to do with you. Your mom and I both love you very much, and the last thing we want to do is to hurt you. This is not your fault.
But Dad, I
Im sorry, honey. Ive got to get out of here. I promised your mom Id be gone before 3:00, and its about 10 minutes after now. Ill call you before bedtime to say goodnight. I love you.
And out the door he ran, almost tripping over Cocoa, our 13-year-old mutt lying beside the door. It was then I noticed the picture he had been holding was a picture of Dad and me from our camping trip last spring. It was missing from the bedside table where he proudly placed it when I gave it to him on Fathers Day last summer.
I ran over to Cocoa and buried my head into his neck, just like I used to do after I lost Ol Filthy. I cried many a tear into that old faithful pillow friend until Mom kidnapped it from my room my first day of kindergarten, never to be seen again. Cocoa was my comfort from that day on. He was usually asleep and never minded the interruption. Of course, he had no clue why I was upset, or even that I was, but he was warm, cuddly and, as always, available.
I must have finally cried myself to sleep, because the next thing I knew I heard the sound of the garage door opening. Mom was home.
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