You're Late Son.

They say having a father is overrated. All fathers do is embarrass you.

Between not having one and having an embarrassing one, I might as well get embarrassed too.

All fathers talk about are your dismal grades and proliferated expenses, they say.

Fathers are hypocrites; themselves don’t adhere to the rules they ask you to obey.

At the age we’re in, none of us needs a father, they believe.

Having had enough empathy from my drunken friends, I decide to leave.

They holler as I go, “You’re lucky to not have a father around. Wish we were as lucky too.”

I turn to them to aver, “Never say that again. Trust me; you don’t want it to be true.”

I never had myself a greedy-for-grade-miser-for-money-father around.

It sucks to not even know how a hypocrite father sounds.

I take a walk back home, just sober enough to walk straight.

I try not to make a sound as I enter. Mom would be asleep; it’s late.

“You’re late son.” I rue the fact that I wake up my mother; it was the last thing I had hoped.

But the voice was masculine. I see a man sitting in the living room, wearing my father’s robe.

I near the gap between the two of us. I get a peek at his face and I can’t believe my eyes.

“How…What….How…?” is all I could manage. While he just smiles and says, “Surprise! Surprise!”

“They mixed something in my drink.” To this he says, “Since when do you come home drunk?”

He sees mortification in my eyes, and thus he smiles and says, “Come. Let’s have a chat, son.”

“Business first. I hear your grades are dismal and expenses proliferated.”I look at him and he winks.

But he waits for a reply. Still mortified, I say, “I don’t know. I have to take care of other things.”

“I know you are livid, son. But me leaving was the best thing that ever happened to you.

At least you hate your father for not being around; not for being around, like your stupid friends do.

Look at you, you little girl! When I was your age, I was already taking care of the house.

I want you to man up and do the same. And FYI, that’s how a hypocrite father sounds.

You don’t need me for happiness. Just get out of bed daily and remind yourself to smile.

Eventually, you would not have to make an effort. Smiling will become your habit after a while.

The powerful play does go on and you have to contribute a verse.

Let your verse not be “I miss my father.” For both of us it would be a curse.”

 “When… When can I see you again, dad?” Interrupting his speech, I say, with a tear in my eye.

“If getting drunk and crying brings you back to me, for the rest of my life I will only drink and cry.”      

“Don’t act so pathetic, son. I have been proud of you so far.

You don’t want your old man to leave with a scar.

If you try to find me at the bottom of a bottle, you never will.

The age you’re in, you actually don’t need a father. It’s true, however bad it makes you feel.

Having said that, promise me that you will be a great father, way better than I ever was.

Don’t expect too much from your son. If he loves you, just thank your stars.

I will take your leave now since I think I have said enough to make you feel better.

Now be careful with that door. Try not to wake up your mom as you enter.”

Before I could say anything, I found myself standing outside the house.

I had a smile on my face and I entered as quietly as possible, almost like a mouse.

“You’re late son.” I rue the fact that I wake up my mother; it was the last thing I had hoped.

I just go up and hug her. Seeing his son happy, I think the smell of booze, she ignores.