Show Me Your Titties

It was one of the last times we were all together like that. After my parents got back together, before they split again. The five of us down at the Clackamas River in the  dog heat of summer. None of our family outings were purely for fun. This trip the siblings and I were also required to collect rocks for Dad’s growing rock garden. Not small rocks either, large boulder-like rocks that had to be hefted up to the truck one at a time leaving sand and mud across our bellies each time.

Still, it was nice, strangely calm even. We didn’t rebel against his request and he didn’t insist on instilling nazi discipline. We spent most of the time  wading in and out of the lazy spot on the river and lazing about on our ragged old towels. Our teenaged bodies were still unused to spending time with our parents, there was some awkwardness in all of us at noticing we were being noticed. Now and then speed boats would charge past, churning up the water, creating waves to make us alternately delighted and annoyed by the surges.

One particular boat had made a couple passes when it actually slowed to a cruise. It was overflowing with young men drinking and goofing off. Then it suddenly sped up, fishtailing around a bit before speeding away and as it went one of the boys on it shouted “SHOW ME YOUR TITTIES!” in a wailing laughter filled demand, in our general direction.

As the heat of a dark blush spread to both my sister and I’s faces we looked on in shocked amazement at Dad, standing just ahead of us knee deep in the water with his cozy covered beer in one hand and dark tinted police officer sunglasses on.  He raised his arms, the shorter style swim trunks in a bright turquoise color with tiny almost unrecognizable black fish  printed on them suddenly standing out, marking his age, and shook his man chest at them, his eyes were wild and large, his beer belly jutting out, wavy dark hair silhouetted against the blue sky.  “I’LL GIVE YOU TITTIES!” he shouted mockingly after them.

The tension we had hardly known on the surface was suddenly broken and we laughed till we cried, reliving it over and over as another of us reenacted it from our perspective.  It was the only thing that ever made it work for us, his sense of humor. Still is. Even without him.