Word Count: 539
Ryan’s dad was coming home from Afghanistan. His mom said that he was a hero. Ryan was five when he left; he was almost seven now. He’d written “I love you!” a hundred times in different colored crayons on the bottom of his mother’s letters she mailed every few days. He’d drawn houses and trees and suns and himself with an upside-down U mouth to show that he missed him. His mother read his dad’s letters home, each with a special note just for Ryan where he promised to play ball, teach him to ride a bicycle, take him fishing and beat him at jacks. Ryan was very excited.
His mom said that his dad had saved the lives of his buddies. His mom said that his father was brave. Then she told him that things would be different, his dad would need time to adjust. Ryan would have to adjust too. Because she told him that his father was very brave and a very good man, and his legs had been blown off by a mine.
Ryan thought about that. His mom tried to explain but she couldn’t say much without crying. Sometimes, when her friend Jake came over for dinner, and they didn’t talk about the war or his dad, she would laugh like it would all be okay. Ryan thought it would be okay too.
Ryan’s dad was one of the last off the plane. He was rolled out in a wheelchair. Ryan’s mother’s hand tightened on his, held on. Ryan looked at the man coming toward them and couldn’t quite understand how he felt inside. There was happiness, yes, but something else, something that made him feel ashamed. But he understood this: he didn’t want the man in the chair to be Daddy. He hoped there had been a mistake.
Ryan’s mother took a few steps up to meet them, the man in the chair who was now unmistakably his father. She leaned down and kissed him, then pulled Ryan close so that he could too. He felt his dad’s arms go around him, pull him forward and kiss the top of his head. Ryan almost fell over but his mom’s hand was still tightly locked onto his.
In school the teacher told the class about Ryan’s father. Ryan blushed and mumbled something but he didn’t remember later even what he said. His friend Joey kept pestering him about what his dad’s legs looked like, where they were cut off, until Ryan shoved him hard and ran away.
Ryan stayed in his room and played video games. Or watched the small TV he had on the dresser. He gobbled down dinners and raced out early each morning to stand and wait for the schoolbus.
Jake never came around anymore and Ryan realized he missed him. He asked his mother about him but she said he’d gone away. Sometimes, she would tear up, and asked him not to mention Jake anymore. Ryan felt that was because it would make his dad angry and that made his realize that his mother wasn’t very happy too. So he tried to be nicer to the man in the chair and sometimes they watched TV together on Saturday night.
