A Family History
35
Lucas Thorton Your father is a sick man, but he will never admit it because admitting it would mean he’s weak and weakness scares him. Remember that time in the brewery? You were young then, nine or ten. He sat down beside you while the waiter snaked his way over. “What would you like, sir?” He ordered, and, after asking what kind of beer they had on tap, he glanced down and noticed the waiter, the male waiter, wearing a polka-dotted skirt. Your father kept his mouth shut. That was until he had four of those specialty stouts. They were locally brewed, and they tasted like chocolate milk, but they were also 14%. The polka-dotted waiter approached. “Anything else for you, sir?” He glanced down again. The waiter was still wearing it. “Do they make you wear that thing here?” He pointed to the skirt. “No,” the waiter said, “I have a closet full of them. I like skirts. I’ve always liked them.” He couldn’t help but laugh as you looked away in embarrassment. A few other patrons turned their heads, wanting to know what was so funny. They would have never guessed a grown man was having a drunken laugh at the expense of a polka-dotted waiter who probably wasn’t even out of college. The waiter ignored him and retreated back into the kitchen. When he returned with the bill, he tossed it onto the table and darted toward the outdoor garden. Your father left a tip and placed it under one of his glasses. It totaled $2.35. The meal was close to seventy. Your father is an angry man, but the reason he got a good laugh out of the waiter is because he thought the guy was weak. For the longest time,
