RaisingDad

  You might think I drink a lot of coffee.  That's because I do.  I don't have a lot of bad habits, but if drinking coffee's a bad habit, then that's one of them. I don't drink. I don't smoke. I don't do drugs. But put a cup of coffee in front of me, and I'll make it disappear faster than my paycheck in the hands of my ex-wife. So, after dinner the next day, my wife serves me a cup of coffee. I sit at the table. I look at the patio. I look at my wife. She looks at me. Then at my father. "Would you like some ice cream before we go outside?" she asks him. "Uh..." he says.  He's trying to be polite. My wife cuts him off at the pass. "It's new," she tells him.  I look up from my cup. I didn't know my wife had gone shopping. "What?" "The ice cream. It's new." "It is?" "It is." "What kind is it?" "The new kind." Now, before you think my father's a seni...

  Chapter Four    "I never want to see you again in my life," he tells me, his eyes soft but hard, his voice kind but cruel, his arms strong but also letting me drop to the concrete sidewalk.   I bounce back up and wiggle my way back into his arms like an intestinal parasite. He tries to soften the blow.   "It's not you, it's me," he says. "Okay, it's you, but it's also me. But just a little bit me. In fact, my part in it is so small that, statistically speaking, it's not me at all, but you. Since I'm a gentleman, however, I'll include myself. (But it's not me.)" xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx     I make it back to the apartment I share with Kate, and she immediately sees that I'm crying.   "Ana! What's wrong? What did he do? Did he take you to bed and call you by my name?"   "Worse," I tell her.   "He called you by José's name?"   "Worse than that. I was ready to give...