It was both ironic and beyond shocking to learn not only was my dad a hot-shot big man in the corporate industry, but he was also a hot-shot vampire killer.
It was frustrating, to say the least, to think I've known my dad all these years—the dude that grew up obsessed with star wars legos, loved sitting at dog parks simply to ogle all the dogs but never actually owning one, or always turning on looney-tunes every morning so he can drink his coffee and have our old maid Lopez pick up Starbucks so we can dine-crash on the couch before Kimey woke up and laugh at silly cartoons.
All this time I had known dad to be this lovable golden-retriever man that would show up to my school on his Harley to pick me up (making me the coolest kid on the block) or learn to braid my hair (even though he did poorly at it) simply for the lack of knowing I would never know what it was like to have a mom, before Kimey came into the picture. Dad was dad—he was the kind of man who would stop a thief or help a old man out of his car. He loved making jokes about the stupidest things, like whether dolphins had butt holes or simply pooped through their mouths, or would always read to me before I went to bed all the Lord of the Rings novels (and we'd go through chapters upon chapters of them) and all the Harry Potter books.
Dad worked sure, but he made the time with me, and he did it in the oddest ways sometimes. Took me to his work many times when he'd be late so I'd get to skip school, or let me have ice cream in the morning simply because it was that kind of happy morning.
And sure, I've seen the points in my dad's life when he would shut down and sometimes I thought I would hear him cry in the other room. But he was always good at hiding it—he was always good at being my dad.
He loved me. I was his best work yet, he'd say. His greatest treasure he ever had.
And when he met Kimi, I saw Dad change, for the better it seemed. I never questioned some of the late nights when he was gone and would come up looking roughed up or when he would lock certain doors and Kimi and him would speak in hushed whispers. I never questioned when he would have strange people come over (I always assumed they were work related—I was a kid—I didn't know better) and would seem like he was beyond depressed.
But he always managed to change his tune around me—never the wiser. Always go-lucky.
His smile made all the questions fade on my mind because he was daddy. Daddy didn't do nothing wrong. He was a good man.
