"Son, sit down..."

Yesterday was my ex-boyfriend, Dalan's, birthday. We dated for a year in high school (I was a freshman, he was a junior). We remain friends who speak throughout the year and visit each other during Christmas time.

I called him yesterday to sing him his birthday song, and remind him that I do care. I am almost impossible to get ahold of at times, because it takes much mental energy for me to speak to some of my old friends. Therefore, I do not always return their calls so quickly.

When we were dating back in...oh... '97?... Christmas time came, and I was invited to a family get together. It was a birthday/Christmas-tree-aquiring party. The weather was awful that day - it poured and poured. It was my first time going to a Christmas tree farm where you actually got to chop down your own tree. We all stood in the rain and froze while Dalan's little brother took an ax and whacked away.

I remember there was this little cousin of Dalan's who was the same height as me, probably about 7 years old. She and I had the same short, blond haircut. At one point she walked up and stood next to Dalan. I was behind them in the kitchen and noticed him naturally reach down and put his arm around her. I smiled to myself, knowing that he had mistaken her for me. Luckily back then I would never have let a guy grab my butt or anything, so the girl was safe. I walked around them and stood by one of his other relatives. He looked over after a couple minutes, smiling calmly, then suddenly realized "Wait, if that's Alicia...?" He looked down quickly, patted her on the head in an embarrased fashion, then walked over to put his arm around me.

We spent the rest of the day cuddling on the couch. It was nice.

When I got home my dad was getting ready for work. There was never much time to talk to my dad in the evenings, or ever really. I briefly told him that I had a good time, and that I needed to go take my socks off. It was still raining outside, and my socks had gotten wet again. I walked toward our laundry room, pulling off my socks. My dad went crazy. He started yelling, his face scrunching up in his signature angry scowl. He threw his arms up in the air. When my dad gets mad he stutters, so angry that he can barely get the words out. Waiting for those words... so much anxiety was created, waiting. I wished he would just throw it out there quickly, curse me out, get it over with.

This particular fit, although I know differently now, was supposedly about my inability to listen. He thought I had walked around in wet socks the entire day, and was going to catch pnemonia. He launched into, "I don't know why I bother telling you things Alicia! No one in this fucking house listens to me! You and your mother do whatever the hell you want! I'm not going to fucking say anything anymore!"

And he didn't for almost a week. I came home a few days later to find a Christmas tree standing in our living room. Every year since I was born we had picked out the Christmas tree together. I was heartbroken. This was an ugly tree, but I guess we were an uglier family.

The day he started speaking to me again we walked down the street to watch the Lathrop Christmas parade. For those of you who know the size of Lathrop, you probably can imagine the extravigance of their Christmas parade. On our way back to the house he said he was sorry, and then proceeded to tell me about the Bible's view on the manner. "The man is the head of the household, Alicia..."

Respect. That's what me and my mother were lacking.

During one of my father's rants, probably a couple months later, he became upset because he had not yet met Dalan. Dalan didn't drive at the time, so the we only really hung on campus before and after school. This blowout was the worse I had seen my father. I was alone with him, my mother was still at work. Out of the blue he became furious that Dalan had not been presented for his approval. He yelled at me for some time, then continued yelling off and on as he walked through the house. From his room in the back I could hear him throwing objects, and slamming the walls. I just sat in my room, waiting for it to be over so that I could receive my directions.

I always became quiet when he was angry. I tried not to show any emotion. Sadness, laughter - any reaction that I made would cause more anger, and it would take that much longer. Sometimes even a lack of reaction became offensive to him. "Say something, Alicia! What the hell is wrong with you?"

When Dalan showed up the next day my father was getting ready for work in his bedroom. Dalan sat down on one of our couches, next to me. My father came into the room, and in a friendly, yet stern manner, held out his arm for a handshake. Dalan took his hand, and stood up politely. My father's head moved backward as he rose. My father is 5ft7in and Dalan is well above 6ft. My dad, caught off-guard, stared upward and continued to shake his hand. Then, after a moment, he nervously said "Uh.. Son.. sit down..."

Happy Birthday Dalan. Although things with my father are much better now, this is still a funny memory for me. Thanks for letting me see my father shake in his boots for a minute. It was a nice site, at the time!