There was excitement in the morning when dad was gone before dawn.

“He’s gone sailing with SC’s dad,” Mom explained from the kitchen door. “He’ll be back late today.”

SC was a slightly older girl in the neighborhood who read comic books forbidden by my mom. The boat in their drive made the house look small.

I imagined dad in his Navy dress whites captaining on the whitecaps of Lake Michigan. Where would he go? What would the find?

I couldn’t wait to hear the story.

When he got back he was wordless and lay down on the couch in the front room under the window in the late light of the day. His lanky body stretched limply across the brown cushions. He didn't even take his shoes off. He just closed his eyes and turned his sunburned face away.

He had gotten drunk on the trip and while it turned out to be a rare moment (I can count the times I’ve seen him drunk since on one hand), this was the first.

I never heard about the adventure.

A few years later SC’s dad committed suicide and they moved away.