Cutting Socks
It's not often that my dad tells a story
that I don't know.
Somewhere along the line, he acquired the opinion
that I don't listen
to his stories,
but that opinion would be wrong.
I know every story like the back of
his hand,
which he would say I don't know either.
But I know both, with my eyes open, and my eyes closed,
and far better than I will
ever know
my own.
I remember everything
and trace the outline of every detail
he's ever spoken,
and so I know, without a doubt, that this story
has never been told.
He tells it like
I must have heard it a million times,
and like
it doesn't matter because
either way he's talking to himself.
In his mind,
he's always talking to
himself.
In my mind,
he never
listens.
In the story, he's a little boy.
He's maybe four, maybe five,
and his father is always drunk.
Always drunk and locked away,
to hide his money
for his booze
and not his children.
And so the little boy hides too,
locks himself where daddy locks,
and when dad sleeps,
boy steals.
Steals with scissors used to cut dad’s sock,
which hides the money
that buys the booze
but today will buy a meal.
And so dad wakes up confused with half a sock
and doesn’t think to question.
And that day, boy can eat.
That day, I think,
boy bought a beer instead.
My dad tells this story like it's a comedy,
and I know he knows that it's a tragedy.
But we are a family who laughs instead of crying,
and so my father tells sad jokes.
I think one day I'll creep into his room while he's sleeping,
the one he always locks,
and cut off his sock,
and steal that sad little boy out.
Because he needs that to drink,
and I need that to make him see me.
But he'll just wake up confused,
with half a sock,
and not question.
But he won't see me that day.
He'll still just see the boy.
And he'll hear him, too.
He'll hear the boy,
and never me,
and never himself,
and no one will listen.
Except for me.
I'll remember everything.
__________
meghan o’connor is an nyu student, freelance writer for ladygunn magazine, and lost soul lingering on a stoop near you. born in ‘91, raised in savannah, georgia, then scarred for life through adolescence in baltimore. she’s never seen the wire.