I seen him.

My faddah like keep secrets. I seen him tchrough da crack in da door, open da medicine cabinet, reach behind Ma’s stress pills fo da toothbrush case, da kine fo travel. I no see wat get, but I see da lightah, and he sits on da toilet, turns da showah on, takes one big breath. I wait ten minutes, twenty-five, he step out, eyes red, but no smell sweet like Uncle Mel, no Pakalolo wiff. “Ho, I really had fo shi-shi,” I tell um and lock da door, reach fo da case, find one glass pipe, still warm.