Father of mine…

Today was the first time I spoke to you

in four long years.

She foisted her phone into my beating hands

like a pusher pushing pills at a party

and I swallowed all my awkwardness

until it perched on my stomach’s seabed

and breathed a gobsmacked “hello” to my estranged father.

Flitting between fond memories

(all six of them)

and chucklesome banter

(that isn’t so chucklesome)

I laugh and I giggle and I smile and she pipes in beside me

content to be our relationship’s catalyst.

You’re away, frittering about in some far-flung country

where business is rife and you’re free from the stench of failure

failure at being a dad, a husband and a friend.

You tell me you’ll be back soon

like a perpetual Schwarzenegger, the phrase has been on a loop

in my head for the best part of a decade

so you shouldn’t expect a homecoming party anytime soon

because soon is a very long time

for such a short word.