Chapter 4: Dad calls, the world falls.

My phone rings. Its my Dad's cell phone.

"Hello," I answer cautiously.

"Hi Babydoll," he replies rather sheepishly.

"How are you calling me? How are you on your cell phone from jail?" I question.

"I posted bail so I'm at the house now," he tells me.

Nope no warning. Mom didn't call me and tell me what was going on. One second he was in jail, the next he was calling me. This is making my head spin.

"So I guess your mother told you what's been going on?" he asks.

"Well ya. I mean no. I don't know what's going on. I mean I know you got arrested, but beyond that Mom and I don't know anything. What were you in jail for, and how did you post bail? What is bail exactly? Do you have to pay bail back? I don't know anything about this stuff. I just... uhg..." I blurt out as questions begin firing in my brain faster than my mouth can keep up with.

"A few years back some people said I didn't finish the contracting job I did on their house. They took me to court and made me pay back every cent I made on the job, which was like $12, 000. When things got tough these last couple months, I stopped paying payments to the court and they arrested me for it," he explains casually, as if he's telling me the weather forecast.

Oh okay. That makes everything better. NOT.

"Well did you finish the job?" I ask.

"Of course I did baby," he says. Hmm. That's some damn bad luck if you ask me.

"How did you post bail?" I question.

"My friend Julian got the money together and bailed me out. I called everyone I know, and nobody would help me. Even your own uncles said no. They said I should just sit there and pay my time," he says disdainfully.

What I wanted to say was- "Yep. I was one of those people too. I told everyone just to let you sit there because people don't go to jail for nothing."

What I said was, "Uh well, people are angry." I know, I'm a chicken. He still is my dad though so I sometimes revert to being 6 years old.

"I tell you what if I had to sit there left to rot in jail, you wouldn't have a dad anymore Sam," he tells me.

"So you're saying you'd commit suicide??!?!"

"You just wouldn't have a father," he repeats.

And with that statement, the 6 year old girl goes away and a mean bitch of a woman comes out with a bang.

"First, I feel like I already don't have a father. Second, if you killed yourself, it would be the single most selfish thing you would have ever done. The legacy you would leave would be wrought with pain, anger, and disdain. I can't believe you would ever say that. Let alone to one of your children," I hiss at the phone.

He pauses for a while and asks, "Why don't you feel like you have a father?"

"Well you never call anymore. We used to talk daily and now I can't get a hold of you to save my life. I'm sick of your damn voicemail. And the father I knew wouldn't be in jail. Seriously, that's so crazy. I can't believe you were in jail."

"You're right I should call more often baby. I'm going to make a point of calling more. I might have a job  near you soon, so I'll be able to visit and see the baby too. Well, I need to talk to the kids now babydoll, so I should go. I love you."

"Love you too Pop." Those were the last words I spoke to him before my world and my faith in him would be completely and totally turned upside down. This marks the Before-missing person era of our relationship. (Every story has to have a solid Bible reference right?) Or maybe I'm drinking a margarita while I write this and it seems like a good idea now...

This conversation marks the first time of many that I realized talking to my father would not get me anywhere emotionally. He says all the right things, but part of me just knows its words- only words. Its like those beautiful packages in the window displays at Christmas. They have such shiny elegant paper with perfectly placed bows, but still you know that that they're empty. They're just for show to make you buy what the store is selling...and nothing is inside. No promise of joy, no anticipation, no magic. Just an empty brown box.

This was one of those "growing up moments". The ones where you realize that your parents are just people. That they totally don't have the answers, and mess up.  In this moment it hit me- my dad was human, painfully human. Isn't your dad supposed to protect you from the world? Isn't he supposed to create this little bubble of trust and safety? Doesn't he have all the answers and can fix everything? If he can't fix everything and isn't my foundation and sanctuary...well nothing is safe. Nothing is secure. Its all just a world of uncertainty and chaos. Shit.