Be a man

He sat staring at the train, then his phone, then the train. He had booked a seat on the train and had been ready to board. Then his phone beeped and he stopped, expecting to read a message telling him to go. Instead the message said "be a real man, come home".

He thought he already was, not only physically but in general. It probably depended on your definition of being a man. Physically a man helps, then what? As he was trying to find a definition in the storage part of his brain , the trains guard startled him out of his deep thought.

" Last call for the midnight sleeper service, last call"

He checked his watch and saw he had almost exactly two minutes to decide if he wanted freedom or to be a man , based on his fathers definition. He didn't have the time to text his father and to ask

" need more information, what's a man?"

Dad had worked in manual labour jobs all his working life, always lifting and carrying, often hitting with a hammer or opening with a screwdriver. He would often regale anyone that would listen with tales of the house he remade. The doors he hung, the shelves he placed and the carpets he laid. If he was a little drunk or a little spiteful he would comment on how it was a shame his son couldn't do the same.

He had never physically abused any of his children, but his voice and its anger was enough. Sometimes worse than the anger , was the disappointed voice. It told you all you needed to know about what he thought and how it affected him. Even getting the wrong kind of job or dating the wrong person could fuel sudden anger. Even if the job earned more money, involved less manual work and was safer to do.

The countdown to the trains departure was now a minute, how do you decide on the rest of your life in such a short space of time. His siblings had moved away and his destination was closer to them then where he lived now. His dream job was at the end of the trip, his own place to live waited for him. The choice was being happy or making dad happy. There was the nagging sensation that maybe Dad wasn't the tough man he had once been, maybe he was trying to ask for help in the only way he knew how.

Before he knew what was happening his legs took him closer to the train. The whistle blew and he made the most important decision of his life.

The seat was comfy and he thought the trip would be manageable. His brain was still spinning on his decision, he was glad his legs made the decision. He wanted to do things for himself , but not to upset his father too much. If Dad needed help , he would need to ask properly. He was then going to have to find a way to get it. As he started to doze his phone beeped again. This time the message was

"Man or mouse"

He planned to write "squeak, squeak" but changed his mind as he thought it was an unfair thing to say, despite the situation. He wanted a way to have both options ok, both shown as positives. There were few options open to him, especially as the first stop on the journey was hundreds of miles away. In the end he came up with the best answer he could find, one that would sort him and one to placate his father.

" Sorry Dad, last call was shouted so I put my phone in my coat. I needed two hands for my luggage. I only saw your message after the train had left the station. I will be a man in my new job, I will have to manage with out your direct support and help. We can stay in contact, I will come back and visit and all will work. Bye dad "