Jen's Journal

Once we were walking by the Denver Public Library, and my father found a disk on the ground titled, Candyland. Thinking it was a children’s film left forgotten, my father picked it up and took it home with us. It took three seconds for him to take it off our DVD player when we realized it was porn. That was the only time I’ve seen my father get embarrassed.

The first time I danced with my father was also the last time I saw him. He drank a lot on a mostly empty stomach and tried asking my mother to dance with him when his boyfriend was right next to her. I remember going back to the bar to ask his friends to keep an eye on him. They looked at me and tried not to laugh as they said, “sure.” My father kept bothering my mother, and finally, she made me dance with him so he would go away. He kept stepping on my toes and bumping us into people. I counted the seconds until the song was over so I could disappear into the crowd and pretend none of this happened. This was the last time I was embarrassed by him. 

He brought home a black and yellow motorcycle one summer afternoon that he found cheap at a yard sale. I got to ride with him first, and my siblings all looked at us with a jealous glint in their eyes as we rode away. I remember feeling safe like we were flying like nothing could touch us as long as we kept riding. A week later, my mother made him get rid of the motorcycle. He didn’t question her. It was gone that afternoon. This is when I realized we lived in a matriarchy. 

I was hungry one day and angry at my mother. I was also extremely moody and dramatic at the time. I snuck a piece of bread from the kitchen and sat in the laundry room, sighing and nibbling at the bread, pretending my life was hard. My father found me and said with a smile, “what are you doing over here? You look like a hobo,” and then he made me my favorite comfort food, chorizo with eggs and beans. This is when I knew he would always be there for me, no matter what.