"Dad," I started, not sure what I was going to say.
"Bill." He told me. "It's time. I can't go on like this any longer. Tell me what happened to you."
I frowned, looking at him. What to do?
Finally I came to a decision. "Dad," I asked. "You ever smoke grass?"
He raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"
"Don't give me the standard Dad answer." I told him. "Tell me the truth. You grew up in the sixties. You went to college during the summer of love. You used to attend anti-war protests. Mom told me you burned your draft card and got arrested for it. I've seen pictures of you when you were in college. You looked like a hippie. So tell me, have you ever smoked grass?"
"Of course." He told me. "I used to smoke it quite a bit in college. But what does that…"
"Meet me in your den." I told him. "And I'll tell you everything."
"But…"
"Just do it Dad. I have a joint upstairs. We need to smoke it together."
"You have a JOINT?" He asked sternly. "Bill, how dare you…"
"Dad." I said mildly. "As you pointed out, I'm not a typical teenager. If you want to hear what I have to say I think you're going to want to smoke some pot first. It's quite a story."
"I can hear your story just fine without smoking any pot, thank you." He told me. "And I want you to march right upstairs and throw away whatever marijuana you have in this house and never bring it in here again. What did you think…"
"Dad," I interrupted. "What I have to tell you is pretty mind-blowing, okay? You're going to need to put aside your parental attitude for a while.
You've mentioned that I act like an adult at times. Well this is one of those times. If I'm going to tell you this story you're going to need to speak with me as an equal, not a teenager. In order to speak with me as an equal we need to BE equal. Smoking pot with me will serve that purpose." I smiled. "Besides, it'll probably get rid of your hangover."
He stared at me for a moment, giving the extended version of THE LOOK. Finally he nodded. "I guess I'll do about anything to get rid of this hangover." He said. "Meet me in there quick before my better judgement makes me beat your ass and ground you."
"Right." I said, heading upstairs.
We closed ourselves in to Dad's den, locked the door, and I produced the joint. I lit it with a lighter, took a good hit, and then passed it over to Dad. He took it from my fingers and looked at it for a minute.
"Bill, this is nuts." He said. "I haven't done this in fifteen years. You're my son for God's sake. Fathers are not supposed to smoke Mary Jane with their sons."
"Buds Dad." I told him, exhaling my hit. "We call it buds these days. Take a hit."
He gave me one more doubtful look, sniffed a little at the joint, and finally put it to his lips. He inhaled, making the tip glow and then coughed a pungent cloud of smoke out.
"It tastes like a skunk." He complained. "Bill, I don't think…"
"It's supposed to taste like that." I told him. "That means its good shit. Hit it again. Slower this time."
He tried again. This time he managed to hold the hit for about fifteen seconds before he coughed it out. He passed the joint back to me and I quickly took another hit. When I gave it back to him he tried to refuse it.
"Hit it Dad." I insisted. "If you want to hear this story you gotta be stoned. That's the rules."
"I can't believe I'm doing this." He muttered but took the joint anyway.
By the fourth hit Dad was starting to mellow. He stopped trying to refuse the joint when I passed it to him. In fact he even began making jokes.
"Don't Bogart that joint my friend." He told me when I took an especially long hit. He then began chuckling.
"Wouldn't dream of it Dad." I told him, feeling the drug going straight to my head.
"Wow." He said after exhaling another hit. "They've certainly made some improvements in grass since I used to smoke it. It used to take us four or five joints to get to where I am now."
"The miracles of modern horticulture." I told him and he started cracking up hysterically. I joined him, marveling that he was right, it was pretty freaking weird to get stoned with your Dad.
When the joint was burned down to a roach and both of us were flying high, I turned to my father.
"Okay." I told him. "Are you sure that you want to hear this? What I'm about to tell you will change your entire opinion of me. You will no longer be able to see me as the son you've known."
He took a deep breath. "I don't see you that way now Bill." He told me seriously. "Like I said, you changed suddenly one day. I have to say it's been for the better, but you haven't been the son I knew in quite some time.
I still love you of course, don't get me wrong, but you weren't the same after that day. So give. Tell me what happened to you."
"If I tell you," I said. "You can never tell anyone else this story. No one, never! I would prefer you not even tell Mom although I would understand if you did. The consequences of anyone finding out what happened to me are potentially severe."
"The consequences?" He asked. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," I said, telling him the same thing I'd told Tracy, "That I possess knowledge that people would literally kill for. That they would stop at nothing to possess."
He raised his eyebrows a bit at that one.
"You're thinking I'm having delusions of grandeur, right?"
"It had occurred to me." Dad admitted.
"I'm not." I told him. "Remember the stocks Dad? Remember how I knew a particular stock that was going to skyrocket at a particular time?"
"Yes." He nodded. "Are you trying to tell me that you can see the future Bill? Because I'm not sure that I can really accept that."
"I'm not seeing the future Dad." I told him. "I have lived through the future."
He looked at me for a moment, blinking. "Lived through the future?"
I began to talk.
Chapter 10
Momma loves her baby
Daddy loves you too
And the sea may look warm to you baby
And the sky may look blue
But ooooh Baby…
PINK FLOYD
Our conversation lasted for nearly an hour. Dad listened to me with rapt attention, interrupting me only to ask questions when something I'd said required qualification. He didn't seem to have any problem believing my tale, leading me to believe that he'd suspected some vague version of the truth the whole time. When I got to the part about Tracy dying in the car accident and fate continually trying to reclaim her his face paled. He picked up the roach and held out his hand for the lighter. I handed it to him and he took a mighty hit.
Dad was strangely un-offended by the fact that I'd gone on a minor rampage among the high school girls.
"I can see how the temptation to do that would be overwhelming." He told me knowingly. "You're over that phase now? Except for Nina?"
"Yes." I told him. "Believe me, I've learned my lesson. Being dropped off in the middle of the hood will do that for you. And Nina's different. I love her. She may be seventeen but she's got the maturity of someone much older. Like I told you, I plan to marry her someday."
He was however, like Tracy, strangely offended by my affair with Anita.
"I can't believe you would do something like that." He told me, shaking his head. "And I can't believe SHE would do something like that."