My Dad

When my dad was drunk, he’d say, ‘I used to have a brother, you know,’ and get a faraway look in his eyes…

Photo by Vitaliy Shevchenko on Unsplash

Most nights, my dad, with his greased back and dyed black hair and his silvery gray sideburns, would drink until he puked and passed out on the floor, sometimes with a lit cigarette in his hand. Sometimes, not. Sometimes, he would hold my arm and put it out slowly, letting the cherry sizzle and dig in. His hair ain…