Free A Man Named Dave by Dave Pelzer

and forced to carry the load more than others: I was being tested. I let out a sigh. At least, I told myself, I tackled a job I detested and was willing to give it my best shot. Above all, I knew that I would never give up and with my determination I would find honor.
    A short time later I found myself on my first temporary duty assignment (TOY). Because of Sergeant Campbell’s faith in me, two peers and I were the sole cooks to feed a small group of pilots and support staff in a remote location. The two senior airmen and I worked from dusk to dawn, and our efforts were rewarded with praise. During my stay I began to feel a certain pride that I, in some small way, had contributed to a team effort.
    That evening, while the other cooks cruised to the local bars, I stayed behind and studied one of my books. Part of the reason was that I felt enormously intimidated in front of other people. While others would tell wild stories of where they grew up and adventures in school or dating, I would become afraid, lock up like a statue and stutter. I couldn’t look at anyone in the face, let alone maintain eye contact long enough to tell a joke. So I had decided that I’d rather be alone than make myself out to be more of a fool than they already knew.
    Hours later, after reading several chapters of my book, after filing away another written letter to Father that I would never mail, and after staring at the ceiling, I still could not fall asleep. For some reason something seemed to keep me from relaxing. I was wide awake even after my cohorts stumbled in and collapsed on their beds. As usual, whenever I’d become uptight about something, I’d doze off literally minutes before I had to begin another day.
    The next day, after serving lunch, one of the cooks thrust a phone in my hand, refusing to look at me. Confused, I shook my head. My eyes darted between my friend standing a few feet away and the phone cradled in my fingers. For a moment I hesitated before pressing the receiver end against my ear. “Hello?” I uttered.
    “David?” The voice seemed to crackle from a million miles away.
    My heart skipped a beat. “Mom, is that you? What is it? What’s wrong? How did you get this number? Why are you calling?” I asked my foster mother as fast as the words could spill from my mouth.
    “My God!” Alice exclaimed. “David, I’m so sorry. I beg of you, please forgive me. It took days, and I mean days, to reach you. Your squadron … in Florida … they weren’t sure where you were … I tried every number they gave me. Please know that I –”
    “Wait! Slow down, I can barely hear you! The line … it’s too much static. Just tell me, what is it? What’s wrong?!”
    “Harold’s fine. I’m fine … David, just believe me when I tell you how hard I tried. Honest to God, I tried …”
    My stomach began to clench. The more my mind ran through every possible option, the more the answer became crystal clear. “Tell me,” I said as I clamped eyes shut and uttered a quick prayer, “just tell me. Tell me he’s not …”
    On the other end of the line I could hear Alice lose control. “Come home, David. Come home,” she sobbed. “Your father’s in the hospital. They say he’s not going to … he only has a few days … Come home, David. Just come home.”
    As the words sank in, the receiver dropped from my hand. I fell to my knees as a static shrill from the phone filled my head.

4 – Wishful Thinking
    Nothing could have prepared me for seeing my father. I had zero tolerance for the assistant at the nurses’ station at Kaiser Hospital, in the heart of San Francisco, who stood in front of Alice Turnbough and me as if we were invisible, while refusing to say if Stephen Pelzer was indeed on that particular floor, let alone admitted to the premises. Because of my insomnia, zigzagging across the country in the middle of the night, and the anxiety of seeing Father, I was ready to explode.
    Whatever scenarios I had formulated during the flight over, dealing with the actual