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Show 53? oL I was undeniably nervous about having my father to dinner. I put on a long dress with puffed sleeves and a flowered skirt. I wore almost no make-up. I sprinkled .Ain the basement one last time before I fixed tacos. I remembered how much my father had loved Mexican food when we were in Monterrey, how he had eaten jalepeno peppers whole, ignoring the shrieks of dismay that his wives let out. Now, with only the good half of his stomach left, he could indulge. And he was getting older - I thought he deserved a little spicy food.while he could still enjoy it. I fussed when my father sat on our India-bedspread 'sofa.' He looked so undignified and out-of-place with his feet stuck awkwardly before him. I felt that the position somehow compromised his integrity. "Please, let me get you a chair, Daddy." He refused, smiling. His voice was gentle and there was an aura of watchful humility about him, as a man will wear when full he has entered a roomAof strangers. "You've done very nice things with this place, daughter. I hope this will be the beginning of a long and happy life for you and your young man. I bowed my head. "Thank you, Daddy," If only he knew the problems we were having - the quarrels, the drinking and smoking and drugs. If he only knew the terrible drag °n my SOul each morning when I awakened and saw Brian wearing the same uncompromisingly petulant expression in sleep that he wore throughout the day. |