The divorce news reached Daniel as he was finishing his semester, and it couldn't be a worse time. Drown between papers to submit and exams to pass, the young nerd-looking 19-year-old thought little about it. It was hardly a surprise, he told himself, entering the plane that would bring him back home.
As he dropped his bags on the hardwood floor, closing the door behind him, something was missing. A lacking he couldn't quite explain. He adjusted his black glasses on his nose and took his phone out, checking his messages - none, as usual. Then, after a long sigh, he picked up his bags and walked up the stairs to his bedroom.
It was late evening when his mother arrived home, tipsy and giggly. They chatted a little, but she soon excused herself, "too tired," was the reply. Daniel noticed the absence of the pictures where he belonged as a family; some of them were cut in half, inside frames that looked more like a prison now. His dad's removal from those once happy memories was a punch in his guts, and for the first time in all the months between university and home, he found time to allow some feelings to surface in his soul.
He scrolled down to dad's number and, without hesitations, pressed on it, watching the number ring on his screen.
"Dan?" a sleepy voice answered, husky, low, and he could even say, a sadness disguised with surprise.
"Hey, Dad, sorry if I didn't call earlier." In a flash, he could see the missed calls from dad on his phone from weeks ago. But Daniel was just too busy.
His dad smacked his lips on the other side of the line, rustling bedsheets, a scratch of his beard. "It's ok, Danny boy, it's a bit late; what's the time?"
"Where are you, Dad?"
"- shit, one in the morning." A loud yawning, "I had to move away, Danny. I'm living just outside town."
Daniel drums on his legs while he thinks about his next words. "I..."
"Hey Danny, it's ok, boy. I know you were busy, but I didn't want to put pressure on you." His voice became less raspy, with some vulnerability to it, which Daniel took for genuine.
"Are you coming back?" he asked in one go, without taking a second to breathe, and on the other side of the phone, his dad took longer to reply. Of course, Dan already knew the answer, but he wanted to keep the conversation going, keeping alive the memory of his dad, walking shirtless around the house, his hairy chest and strongly built pecs, his sturdy biceps from manual work all day. Daniel kept a pair of white undies he had taken from the laundry once, and his cheeks turned red with the thought of it.
"Buddy, I don't think I will. I told your mum she could have the house, which includes you because that house is also yours - you're safe there, son."
"But, Dad -"
"No, Daniel. You listen to your father - the best option is to stay with your mum. No point in bringing up all the reasons why. I'm better off alone, Son."
Who was this man, Daniel thought, where was his confidence? The tone of his father's voice was a dim comparison to that robust and handsome man he kept in his imagination.
Daniel walked past his mother's room, a loud snoring coming from someone who had more than enough to drink, and he sank into his bed, unable to dream and incapable of sleep.
Summer happened. The long days and a pang of guilt grew as weeds in a fertile field. Daniel couldn't shake the notion of his father no longer living with them, but he also wasn't prepared for the new life his mum had.
"You were always a daddy boy," she would accuse him whenever Daniel wasn't up to doing whatever she wanted to. "If you're not prepared to be nice to my new boyfriend, then I think you should consider packing your bags and leaving early."
Daniel looked straight into her eyes, a promise of green lands with deep blue lakes, while his mother's blonde curly hair cascaded over her shoulders. The brown roots were already showing, just like the nails, broken in several of the fingers.
"Is that it?" he asked, stammering on the words, a cold sweat growing through his back and conquering him like an army. He held his hands together.
"Don't get all feisty with me," she said, leaning over the kitchen counter and lifting his chin. "Look at me - I love you so much more than your father did, but I'm not taking any of this teenage behavior. Mark is my boyfriend, and you will treat him with respect."
"Mark is a -"
"No, nothing of that," she cut him off, "if you can't do it, fine. I know, too soon, the neighbors saying, apparently, but it's my life. If you don't like it, then fuck off."
It took Daniel two more nights of Mark around the house for him to make the decision. At four in the afternoon on a Thursday, he rang his dad and bit his nails, wishing he didn't pick up.
"Hey Danny boy, how are you?"
"Where are you?"
"What?"
Daniel continued walking, looking up at the top floors of the buildings surrounding him on his way to the bus station. "Where do you live? Which bus do I take to get there?"
Silence on the other side. "Dad?"
"What are you doing, Dan? You need to go back."
"I'm going to live with you."
He could picture his dad closing his eyes and bringing a hand to his forehead while bending down his head, the heavy burden resting on his shoulders. "What did she do?"
"Nothing, dad, is just -"
"Dan, you can't come and live with me. It's not an option at the moment. Ple -"
"No, dad. I'm going. I haven't seen you in how many months now? Can't stay there anymore, mum said." There was a bus coming, but he had no idea where it was going, so he just sat there and watched it go. "It's until next semester starts."
Daniel's father, James, ended up picking him up from the bus station. Tears ran down his eyes as he hugged his dear son. For both men, an adjustment was necessary - the mental images they had of one another didn't match the person in front of them. For James, Dan was still the same nerdy-looking boy, a bookworm like Susan, his wife, used to call him. He had the same glasses from before, but now with less meat in his bones, his skin one shade paler, the university consuming him. He noticed his bones as he hugged, pulling him harder, a need to protect the most precious thing in the world.
"Are you eating?" he asked, a hint of concern in his voice, something that Dan had missed for too long.
He nodded, holding the hands of his father, now with a large, round belly he didn't have before, an untrimmed beard, unlike him, and an overall decadent look. Concern rose in Dan's head, and during the car travel, he drummed his fingers on the car door, unable to articulate much more than simple words to his dad's questioning.
The stairwell was dirty, and Dan wondered if that was a precursor of what he would find. His father was having trouble rotating the key to open the door, and Dan just stared at him, the strong arms were still there, the figure tall and almost omniscient, but there was a lot of it missing. He couldn't stop wondering what had happened and how things had gone this way.
"Fuck," James shouted, the door being stubborn as he used his shoulder to open it at the same time he turned the key, "fucking finally, sometimes she plays up," his dad said. For him, doors were always females, for some sinister reason, Dan never dared to ask. The house was tidy enough, at least the entrance corridor, but his dad was quick to take him into the bedroom, a small enough space with a bed occupying most of it, a wardrobe, and some shelves that his dad put up, most likely. There was a scent of dirty clothes in the air, the windows closed, and some washed-down curtains.
"Is it this?" Dan asked, unable to contain the question.
"I told you, son, I'm renting a room. It's all I can afford right now." He closed the door and grabbed Dan by his shoulders, kissing the top of his head and inhaling his scent as he did. "I'm sorry, Son, that was why I didn't want you to come around. Nothing else."
Daniel heard laughter and voices, and someone entered the flat, and his dad reassured him it was his flatmates. "You're not supposed to be here."
"It's just a few more weeks. I can look for a room if you want, mum can pay for it."
A grim smile on Dad's face told him it wasn't quite as easy. "Your mother, she's different. I don't know what happened, but..." a sudden stop, "no, I'm not going to fill your head with my problems. You have enough on your plate."
In a bold move, James opened the room door and called his flatmates, introducing them to a shy Daniel with red cheeks and beads of sweat in this new interaction. Charles and Simon, two young men, probably mid-twenties, also seem to skip showers some days.
As the afternoon settled into night, so did Dan get used to the house. The kitchen was big enough, and the shower too, so that compensated for the lack of space in the room, or so he thought. The bed was a mattress on the floor. No frame. The moment he realized he would have to sleep with his dad, he couldn't swallow. No, he couldn't do such a thing. As he found space for his things, Dan started to pick up dirty laundry scattered all over the floor, dirty socks, used briefs, and suspiciously used t-shirts.
"Dad, are you alright?" he dared to ask, making his dad lift his eyes from his phone.
"What's that now, Danny boy?"
"This. I... I know I'm young, but I'm not stupid. You were never like this, dad. And why don't you have money to afford something more... well, luxurious comes to mind, but this is... I'm worried, that's all."
James put down his phone, scratched his junk in the process, and jumped off the bed. The sweatpants he was wearing left a few things for Daniel's horny imagination to figure out, and his white sleeveless top was stretched with the size of his belly. The same hairy chest lies above, undoubtedly keeping Dan awake at night.
