Holiday One-Shots

June 19th

Father's Day One-shot: 

Eight Years Passed

"Father's day is coming up soon." Lonnie Moran's mother told him as she washed the dishes. It'd been eight years since the seventeen year old had last gazed upon his father's living face. He hadn't even remembered the funeral, it seemed so long ago, yet so fresh in his mind. It wasn't until his dad was gone for far too much time that his mother told him of his death on a Father's day, eight years passed. The pain shown in her eyes as she spoke, but she never shed a tear. Lonnie saw it as a sign of strength, and he'd decided he would do the same. It was all for naught, the boy's mental state began to deteriorate as a result.

I won't cry about it- I won't, he thought to himself. I've been strong for so many years, I'm not going to stop now. "So what?" He asks as he put the dried dish into the cabinet. "I haven't had a father for years." The words were bitter. Memories of the love and admiration he held for his father brought a twinge of pain to his heart. Growing up he always felt as if he'd been left out, missing something that he could never have back. His father, Bruce Moran, was always the fun parent. Lonnie loves and appreciates his mother, but her and Bruce were two different people. There has been a piece of him missing ever since he passed.

"Lonnie," there is despair in her voice. The tone leaves along with a sad sigh. "You know, you could always do something nice for Jeff." Lyan spoke of her husband. They'd gotten married two years after Bruce was presumed dead. It angered the eleven year old Lonnie that his mother would move on so quickly.

"Must I repeat myself, Mother?" The boy sighed out sweetly. He'd learned that coating harsh words in a soft voice helped her bite down replies more easily. "It's called Father's day for a reason. And I have no father." There's no point, nothing will bring him back; not your prayers and not your tears. He'd told himself since he was a boy, the tears part being most relevant, especially now.

"Jeff stepped up to the plate when you were ten years old. After so many years he's starting to feel unappreciated." One thing Lonnie Moran couldn't deny was the fact that Jeff is, honestly, a good man. He took care of Lyan and made her the women she was before Bruce's death. The problem is, he tried to step up to the plate, not that he did. Lonnie wouldn't allow him to do anything that his father would have. The boy made sure to avoid this type of confusion, assuring him that his companionship wasn't needed or wanted. Jeff's feelings are, purely, on his own hands, for his own undesired attempts. He's like a lovestruck teen desperate for attention, Lonnie would always think to himself.

"I never asked for this." Lon told his mother in exasperation. With a shake of his head and a drawn out sigh, he leaves the kitchen and his mother. Each step up the stairs seem heavy to him. An unconscious hand runs through the brown of his hair. The journey to his room is long and quiet. Once he's in his alone, and the door is closed, he finds himself in solitude. I never asked for this, the thought rung through his head. I won't deny, he makes an effort, but I tell him no every time he does so. The man cares, I'll give him that, but I never asked him to. God, it only makes me feel worse that he does it out of his own free will.

For the next few days Lonnie Moran deliberates over his mother's implications. In the end, he finds himself going to her, seeking guidance. "I thought about what you said." The words came out low as he stood beside her, playing with the skin of the onion she had been chopping. "You were right, I should do something for him." It wasn't an easy conclusion to come to, but when he'd thought of what his father would think, he made it. He'd hate for Bruce Moran to see such the bitter child that he'd grown into.

Father's day was only two days away, which left them with just enough time to plan. During this span, Lonnie found that he knew more about Jeff than he realized. His mother joked that he should give them a second honeymoon. Lon knew he wouldn't want something over-the-top. Jeff is a simple guy. He'd want a simple gift. When that thought came to him, he immediately told him mother. They settled on cooking him his favorite meal, which would take a day to prepare.

When father's day came everything was splendid. Jeff was thoroughly surprised, especially when he heard that it was Lon who'd put it all together. The meal ended up being delicious and dinner was a pleasure for both of them. Despite this, Lyan seemed withdrawn from reality. "Lyan," Jeff places a hand atop his wife's. She blinks out of her delusion. Jeff doesn't have time to continue. Lyan wipes her mouth with her large, white napkin. She places it on the table and stands. "Lon, come see me in the kitchen."

The confused boy stands at his mother's words. Lyan is in the kitchen long before he is. When he walks in she stands up straight, pulling her weight from off of the counter. "I- I need to talk to you about your father." The words are hushed yet frantic.

"What?" Lon didn't know if he wanted to hear it or not. He was just having a good time, so why ruin it now? He wanted to know, he did, but he didn't at the same time, all while being angry that she might've been keeping secrets about him for all these years. He couldn't help but to sound desperate, and that's what sacred him. "What is it, Mom?"

"Ju- just read this," She hands him a letter.

Hey, Lyan

It's been... eight years... too long of a time if you ask me. We both know you haven't written me at all. I know you've read my letters though, every single one of them. I just thought to let you know that I'll be home soon. I'm not sure when, you know how this process is, but it'll be around Father's day for sure. Tell Lonnie that I miss him, and that I'm coming to see him once I get out.

And tell him I love him, okay? Okay.

Bye, Lyan.

The boy's eyes are full of tears as he looks up from the letter. His mother is holding in sobs and tears of her own. "Where'd you get this?" He asks in a low, shaky voice. "Mom, where'd you get this?" He screams, a few strands of salty wetness fall from his eyes.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner... I was just so ashamed." She sobs. "I was hurting and I didn't think he'd ever get out, Lon. I didn't want to put you through that. I'm so sorry."

"I, I, I." He mocks bitterly. All he heard was excuses, and selfish one's at that. "Instead of telling me the truth you thought I'd be better to lie to me? about my father dying!" He had no control over the intensity of his voice. "Where is he?"

"Prison." Her voice is small as she admits it. "Why?" Is Lon's one word answer. His tears are dry by now but the shock of her answer is fresh.

"It started out as simple gambling. No one knew how bad it was, but then he lost all our money, and couldn't afford to pay back his gambling debt to this drug lord. They forced him to smuggle money in and out of the country for them." Lonnie Moran couldn't believe his ears. It didn't make sense, not one bit of it. His father was always painted as a perfect picture in his head. There was nothing, that he could remember, that suggested a double life, especially not one that he was so deep in. No wonder why his mother hadn't noticed.

This really doesn't make sense, he thought. "He's only been dea- in prison," the words were foreign to his lips and bitter to the taste, "for eight years. He'd have a harsher sentence for that." His head shook, as if to wake himself from this harsh reality.

"Lonnie, do you remember how, growing up, there'd always be a car parked outside the door, and you'd always get excited because you thought your father had found us after all the times we moved?" The boy nodded as he choked on watery eyes along with small sobs. "We're in witness protection, Lon Mower." A smile almost formed at the nickname his father had called him all his- short lived- life. But a larger surge of emotion came along with it. If he hadn't thought his father was perfect, and dead, he'd be excited right now. "If your father went undercover and exposed the drug dealers than he'd get a lesser charge, and- for you- he did." She places a hand on top of his, but Lon instantly pulls away.

There he stood, in a daze. He understood, he truly did, but it was too much to take in all at once. Forgiveness wouldn't come easy from him, not for his mother or father. Happiness was hidden somewhere but all he felt was pressure from every emotion imaginable. He didn't know what to say or do, but after a long while, realization struck. "When is he coming home..." The words barely left his lips as the doorbell rang.