Johnny Gets His Wings

Chapter 25

My father, Nick Selleck, was an amazing man. You should have seen him. He was tall and handsome with straw-colored blond hair and deep blue eyes. He had played basketball back in his youth...which was no big surprise because he stood an imposing six and a half feet tall. The size of his hands was also impressive. He could still palm a ball with either his left or right claw-like paw even though he was fifty years old.

But the thing that astonished me the most was the way he could drink. Dad could really put them back. And I'm not talking about beer. No. Nick Selleck was a whiskey man. Yet the joy juice never made him mean or sloppy. It simply served to bring him happiness. In fact, he never missed a day of work due to nasty hangovers or uncontrolled vomiting. If the truth be told, alcohol and Dad seemed like a couple of bosom buddies.

I bring this up because he sat at the kitchen table throwing back glass after glass until four in the morning. He never screamed or slurred his words or pissed his pants. And when the bottle was finally empty, he simply stood up on steady legs, patted me on the head, and went quietly into the bedroom. He was remarkable in that way. Strong as an ox.

Furthermore, he wasn't one of those guys who needed a lot of sleep. The next day, he was up and about at 8 a.m. ready and raring to go. He actually emerged from his room wearing a suit. His hair was perfect, and he smelled of Old Spice.

I sat up on the sofa. "What are you doing?"

He shot me a puzzled glance. "What do you mean, what am I doing? It's time to start the day, little boy. The early bird catches the worm."

"But your interview isn't until three p.m."

"I was kind of hoping that you would treat me and your mother to Waffle House."

"Isn't Mary Jane still sleeping?"

"Of course she's still sleeping. But not forever. We're out here making noise, so it won't be long until she starts cursing us out. I'd give it another five minutes or so."

And he was absolutely correct. She soon joined us in the tiny living room with her arms akimbo and her green eyes on fire.

She shot us both a vicious glance. "What are you two assholes doing? Do you know how hard I work to keep this pigsty from falling to shit? I need my rest." Then she lifted her hand to her forehead. "I'm in pain. It's these fucking migraines again." She paused for dramatic effect. "I really hate you motherfuckers. A couple of peas in a pod. You can't do anything right. The two of you."

She was pissing me off again, and I could feel my anger starting to rise. But then I remembered that she wasn't actually my mother anymore. She was simply Mary Jane, the local loon who lived with us. And this notion brought a smile to my face.

Dad said, "Your son has agreed to take us to Waffle House on his dime. So go get dressed."

"I'm not going to fucking Waffle House. I detest that fucking place. Full of nothing but white trash."

He gently put his humongous hand on her shoulder. "Now, you know that's not true. You love Waffle House as much as me. You're simply saying this to be disagreeable. So do what you're told, or we'll leave you here and you can make your own fucking breakfast."

Mary Jane shrugged her shoulders and let out a huge sigh. Then she walked to the bedroom, a defeated woman.

My father turned in my direction. "See, your mom's not such a bad person. You simply have to know how to set your boundaries with high-conflict individuals."