The Vacation House Ch. 25

I know what he means, deep in my heart I have known for a while that what dad and I shared would ultimately either blow up in our faces or have to stop. This is it, it will stop, there will no longer be any kind of intimate relationship outside our father/son love for each other. There's no way to shut off the feelings, the desires I have for him but I have to face the fact that I am grown up, that he has moved on and found someone who fills the needs I still desire.

My stomach is sick. I want to throw up, becomes light headed, nervous, unsure as how to respond. I just drop my gaze, stares at my clenched hands. Knuckles swollen, scraped a little stain of red on one finger, Tags blood.

Dad raises his arm, places his open palm in against the tips of my blond crew cut hair. His hand gently moves back and forth, barely brushes the very ends. I love this feeling and I know he likes it too. He once described it as gently rubbing a hair brush over the most tender parts of your body. It sort of feels that way to me as well. I look up, gaze deep into dads dark eyes, he returns the stare, smiles, the lines around his eyes seem a little deeper, his skin a little less colorful, he looks tired.

"Dad, I have to ask you, what was in that letter Tag gave you to read?"

He raises his head, looks up at the ceiling, his jaw goes slack, lips part. Breath escapes his open mouth. I wait, and wait, and wait, finally he looks back at me, closes his mouth, breaths in deep through is nose. I can tell he is bracing himself for something, something huge to tell me, but what, then;"

"It's in my dresser, in my underwear drawer, to the left, under my shorts, get it, read it for yourself if you have to."

If I have to? Of course I have to, I don't think twice about it. Gets up, walks over to the dresser, places one hand on each of the two nobs. Pulls the drawer open, slowly, reaches in moves the neatly folded boxers up until the corner of a flattened but obviously previously wrinkled sheet of paper hides. Lifts it out of it's hiding place, I walk back to sit next to dad, he leans toward me, places his rough beard stubble against the tender side of my neck. I breath in deeply, looks down at the page.

"Dear Sir,

I love your son with all of my heart. Please teach me how to make him happy.

Sincerely,

Tag"