growing up damn fast, Mountain Goat. You'll be on your own in no time,
and if there's anything I can do for you now, before you're gone, I want
to do it."
I knew Dad wasn't talking about buying me some extravagant present,
like a pony or a dollhouse. He was asking what he could do, now that I
was almost a grown-up, to make my last years as a kid everything I
hoped they'd be. There was only one thing I truly wanted, something that
I knew would change all our lives, but I was afraid to ask for it. Just
thinking about saying the words out loud made me nervous.
Dad saw my hesitation. He knelt so that he was looking up at me. "What
is it?" he said. "Ask away."
"It's big."
"Just ask, baby."
"I'm scared."
"You know if it's humanly possible, I'll get it for you. And if it ain't
humanly possible, I'll die trying."
I looked up at the thin swirls of clouds high in the blue Arizona sky.
Keeping my eyes fastened on those distant clouds, I took a breath and
said. "Do you think you could maybe stop drinking?"
Dad said nothing. He was staring down at the cement patio, and when he
turned to me, his eyes had a wounded look, like a dog who's been kicked.
"You must be awfully ashamed of your old man," he said.
"No," I said quickly. "It's just I think Mom would be a lot happier. Plus,
we'd have the extra money."
"You don't have to explain," Dad said. His voice was barely a whisper.