That boy was late getting home. What was I supposed to do with him. If only his mother hadn't died so young. He listened to her. All he ever said to me was that I didn't understand. How could I? My interests included things like Beer, Football, and Women. His included poetry, cooking, and men! I was pretty sure. He looked like me, in the face anyway, but didn't act like me.

It was worrying when he came home late like this. The kid was frail both emotionally and physically. Sometimes, on windy days, I imagined him getting blown away. He never did. It was a blessing and a curse. To say our relationship was love hate wasn't the right expression. I'd say it was all love with no like. My love for him knew no bounds, but if we had met as high school classmates I would have beat him to a pulp, daily.

His key made a scratching noise in the lock and I just sat in my recliner staring at a rerun of the game. He didn't need much prodding to give a heavily detailed recount of his day. Today, however, seemed to be a better day than most. I zoned in and out as he spoke, catching snippets of the conversation here and there. The name Clara came out of his mouth about a thousand times. Was Clara a girl? Did my son like a girl? Who would have thought that sweet Rufus had a thing for girls. Apparently this girl was God's gift to Rufus Thompson. I hoped she was a good girl, a healthy girl. Actually I was just glad she was a girl. Rufus had gotten the short end of the stick in terms of loving relationships in this world. He had a good mother, but she died young. Then he had me. I loved him, but I just couldn't show it. He had no siblings. This Clara needed to live long and express her love for him often.

During one of the moments that I was zoned in, I heard him say that Clara was the reason he was late. The two had walked home together, the long way. She lived five blocks away and she and Rufus shared a bus stop. For some reason the two of them both missed the bus stop today. I didn't hear the reason due to a spectacular touchdown on the screen.

Rufus must have noticed that he was getting only half of my attention because he leaned in closer to me. Then I smelled it. It was the smell of a woman, of MY woman, of Rufus's mother. That got my full attention. Rufus's mother had been my sun, earth, and stars since the day we met. In the fifteen years since her death, I hadn't even thought about dating anyone else. On my death bed I would have only two regrets: 1. That I hadn't met my wife sooner so that we could have loved each other longer. 2. That we didn't have more children so that her genes could be continued on.

Rufus finished his story with hearts in his eyes and ran up the stairs to his room. Clara had been reluctant to give him her phone number but he had convinced her to have a web chat with him in a Chatroom. I heard the floor creaking above my head. Rufus was dancing. That kid was so excited to talk to a woman he just met today. He reminded me of myself when I met his mother. Maybe we weren't so different after all. He was a good son. I wish I was a good dad.