I’m on the last verse when something catches my attention again.
The edge of our property runs down to the lake about seventy yards to my left.
The fence ends right at the waterline, hidden by brush.
I hesitate, wondering if I should go check it out, but then I hear a car pulling into the driveway.
Dad’s back.
I sling the guitar over my shoulder again, turn from the beach, and head toward the house. As I circle around it, I spot him unloading a few grocery bags from the trunk.
"Bay, you’re up? Guess you’re not feeling that bad after all, huh?" he says with a smile.
I walk over and grab a couple of the bags.
"The fever’s gone. My nose is still stuffed, but otherwise I feel fine. Even my throat’s good, I was singing for half an hour."
"Something new?" he asks. "Gonna sing it for me?"
I hesitate. I know I shouldn’t, but I really want to show him how well it turned out.
"Sure, just let’s unpack first," I say.
We put everything away in the pantry and the fridge.
Dad glances at the wall clock.
"I’ve got about half an hour before I need to go. I’m picking up your brothers, the first day’s ceremonies end early."
Then he looks back at me with a smile. "But that gives me enough time to hear your song."
Right. Mixed feelings, but I try to focus on the good part. Maybe he’ll at least like the melody.
We go out to the patio. Dad sits on one of the chairs, and I take the seat across from him.
I scratch my forearm absently. Lately both arms have been itching like crazy, and I have no idea why. My skin’s been so sensitive that I sometimes catch myself scratching without even noticing. Nothing really helps. Maybe it’s an allergy?
Finally, I pull myself together and start to play. I strum the strings, and the words start to flow:
"I wanted something more,
something different,
a mirage rising before me, calling,
but it was all a lie,
and the darkness kept me falling."
Even as I’m singing, I realize the lyrics sound kind of corny and could use some work, but Dad listens with polite attention.
"Wrong decisions keep on haunting,
chasing me for years like a prowling hound,
the ones I made when dreams were daunting,
but now they are nowhere to be found."
