A Tapless Shoulder (14 page)

“
Your butt should go in a book,” I muttered as though I was
sulking. I began to think maybe if I was held up on some shoulders
like a hero every once in a while I’d be just fine with the
downtime…
stupid
ground
. What heroic things
could I do? Who did I have to punch in the face for some
recognition around here? I sighed dramatically, “I know, I know,
I’m sorry, I just mean, we used to be in such awe of one another;
caught up in that tangled idea of just having met one another in a
world of so many
other
options. We got past all that and
fell in love. No, we
were
in love when we
met, we didn’t get to know each other;
we got to know why we were in love.
I don’t know. We should be wrestling
or something, dipping our fists in paint and turning mattresses
into art to be hung in galleries or from street posts,
something
not so far
from that passion
. No?” There I was out in my field of dreams
where those silly thoughts of mine water the lawn with
flames.

“
I know, comfort sets in,” I said, “but… that strikes me as
something that should mesh us farther, deeper, which should only
add to the intensity. But it doesn’t, it just smiles softly and
says, mind you, with its mouth full,
you’ll begin to accept just what you have with routine, and
then begin to forget.”

“
Um, I am
madly in love with you, I don’t ever forget that.” Katie was
looking at me like I’d lost my mind.

“
Oh, yeah, me too, I’m just… saying… television is stupid.
It gets its hooks in you; it tries to find what you like so you
will sit with it routinely. That’s what I meant. We should have,
like, I don’t know, twelve cycles of completely diverse months. One
month erratic schedule times twelve; I think that strikes me as
being better than this daily or weekly crap. Our appreciation would
only be sharper since it wouldn't be cutting through the same
situation so soon again. Some might argue that the same thing would
happen, it would still be routine enough to feel arduous, but I
doubt it. We’re not
that
smart,
and
as well as we know our twenty-four hour days, we
hardly
have them down. There just… there is beauty somewhere
better than this,” I gestured toward the television, “Everyone’s so
fucking careful to look like they’re so fucking careful around
anything with an edge or surface, life included. I think I want
some scars.”

“
You have plenty of scars and I
still
think
you’re beautiful. Love,” she paused to make sure I was listening,
the real kind of listening, “you need to take a deep breath, and
observe less and participate more. I only ask that you do it
quietly.”

“
That's a great idea. Every time I
participate
I
end up punching someone in the face.”

Katie looked
at me like I was purposely spilling milk and said, “Yeah, but then
you get to give your little ‘my principle is unbending’ speech. She
spoke deeply, and cut even deeper, as was suggested by my wide eyes
and gaping mouth.

I opened my
eyes. I had been sleeping. I wanted to be sleeping again. Why
wasn’t I still sleeping? I sat up. My cell phone was ringing. I got
out of bed and ran as stealthily as I could down the dark hall
toward where the phone was lit like a beacon on the table. Two
strides from picking up the phone I kicked a toy and sent it on
noisily down the stairs. “Fuck,” I whispered angrily before I
answered the phone with a slightly louder, hello. It was my dad. He
was in need of a ride home from the police station.

I heard Katie
stirring in bed and saying something softly. I walked back to our
room with the light from my phone lighting the way.

“
What’s
wrong?” she asked like she needed the extra time before hearing
what I was certain to say.

“
Nothing,” I
said quietly, “oh, except my dad’s in jail.”

“
You are
kidding,” she exclaimed in a strong whisper.

“
No, I am
not,” I said as though I were already somewhere else, “I’ll be back
in a bit.”

“
Okay,” she
said.

“
I love
you.”

“
I love you
too.”

This is
payback, he’s just getting me back
, I thought, for having been a little out of control at
times when I was younger. It felt like a terrible joke; the kind
that tells the truth but somehow has laughter tacked on to it so it
doesn’t offend you as badly. I drove at a fairly reserved speed,
not quite sure I ever wanted to arrive.

Inside the
station the lighting and walls seemed bright enough to make anyone
feel guilty just for being there, whatever the reason. I felt like
they were certain to question me as though I may have been
fraudulently claiming to be the son of an old drunk guy like that
was the goal in everyone’s life.
I’m your ticket out of here old man, just shut up and hug
me.

My dad was
seated talking to one of the many officers hanging about in front
of the main reception; one from another group on the opposite side
of the room approached me. Before she had said a thing I was
pointing to my dad.

“
I’m here for
him, that bugger there,” I said, fearful now as to why that was.
Everyone suddenly seemed louder and busier. It was as if they had
missed their cue when the door had opened and were now making up
for it. I yawned and rubbed my eyes. It was all too much. I wasn’t
sure if it was from the light or from being awake, but my head was
beginning to hurt. My dad finally stood and shook hands with one of
them and turned to leave. He smiled, briefly, weakly, and continued
past me toward the door.

I had tried
but wasn’t able to speak to him until we were in the car. I paused
with the keys in the ignition and asked, “Well, what the hell was
that about?”

I had always
seen the man who raised me as being bigger than me, bigger than
life. The man sitting next to me in the car seemed so small and
fragile. I regretted asking. He looked older than I remembered him
looking. The sight of him tugged at my heart and I wanted to hug
him. I put my hand on his shoulder. It occurred to me that I didn’t
know how to show him I loved him, show him so he knew. I probably
hadn’t in a long time. He was my dad and my hand was stuck
awkwardly on his shoulder, but now I couldn’t move it. I couldn’t
let the moment go. Not when the next moment scared me more than
anything. It felt like I was missing something important and that
it was about to disappear forever. That was a terrible feeling to
go into the next moment with. I knew nothing else would feel like
it mattered as much as it did now. I needed to get to a good place
with
him
, and with my life, with Katie and my boys, and
stop it all, hold it all still, long enough to know, really know
and
feel
those moments, those real moments, like I had
truly lived each and every one of them. I couldn’t look away from
him, as if my eyes were begging,
how do I make that happen?

“
We were a
bit foolish, had had a bit too much to drink,” he said suddenly,
his voice a path of dust and gravel that took me away from my
desperate thoughts. “We went to a bar we hadn’t been to before,
some guys were… out of line with Candy, and so they were out of
line with me,” he finalized his statement with a nod of his head,
straight down and back.

My throat was
beginning to hurt now. I wasn’t sure what my head was doing with
what it knew or what it didn’t, but I knew it was mostly in the
negative. I started the car and headed in the direction of my
parents' house – his house. In me, where only a moment ago there
had been nothing I knew the words to; I was now spilling over with
sentiment. “You should have called me before anything happened,” I
said, suddenly and foolishly hurt that he hadn’t. “You stuck up for
her, that’s right, I mean, like, that’s good,” I said, shaking my
head at myself. “Good job, I mean I think that’s awesome, but,
really, you should have called me, right then,” I glanced over at
him when I could. He stared at me with those eyes that had known me
my entire life. “You know I would have come,” I said, “I would have
come right away, and I would have called people on my way.” I
sounded like I was trying hard to reassure one of us, to maybe
patch the road between us.

He was tired
and looked about ready to fall asleep.

“
Thank you
and I know,” he said, “but it didn’t work out like that, it just, I
don’t know, one minute Candy and I are laughing about something,
the next minute I had punched one of the bastards and was swinging
a chair at the others.” He spoke with great care, like it would
ease me gently into a position of better understanding.

He looked at
me then and shrugged; it was what it was. I nodded in
agreement.

“
We’re quite irrational when we get scared of something, not
just anything, but something we don’t understand, aren’t we,” I
said weakly, knowing just where and how deep this statement went.
“Just, next time, call me, okay, please, like, shit, Dad, I don’t
know if you’re
Leaving Las
Vegas
on me or just
going
Old
School
.”

He looked at
me like I was just making up a language. “I don’t believe I’m
familiar with that expression,” he said with what must have been
the smallest laugh in his inventory, which he followed with an only
slightly greater look of wonder.

“
It’s not an
expression, Dad,” I said, “It’s more of an analogy. Seems easier
than saying ‘Are you trying to kill yourself or relive your youth…’
never mind,” I said and looked away from him, suddenly afraid of
what his answer might be.

“
Do you use
film titles for that kind of thing a lot?” he asked. I looked at
him, unsure if the question was serious or sarcastic. I shook my
head, no, but answered, “Well, maybe once I think. I said to Katie
that I was going to ‘Casablanca her ass.’ I don’t think I was
trying to say that, but that’s what it ended up sounding like. We
were drunk,” I paused and rubbed the stubble on my chin like it
helped me to remember, though it did nothing of the sort. “She came
back with something about ‘Shaw-shanking my ass,’ so I quickly
steered the conversation toward something else for everyone’s
sake.” He seemed amused by that, and that made me smile.

When we
arrived at his house I parked in the driveway. “What about Candy,”
I asked, “she okay?” He laughed softly.

“
Yeah, she’s
fine; her sister picked her up from the bar. They didn’t bring her
in. Me, well, I was swinging a chair when they arrived. I think
they were afraid to cut me loose just cause of how worked up I
was.”

“
Well, no
shit,” I said agreeing with him, and them, and maybe the whole
situation.

“
She may look and dress, and do whatever else a woman does,”
he said shaking his head, “but she still fights like a man, and
now
that
, that is a sight to be seen.” He shook his head
and shuddered.

“
Yeah,” I
half asked, half agreed, “no thanks, I think I’m good. Did she lose
a fingernail… or two… or… a boob?” We were quiet for a moment
longer before we looked at each other and laughed.

For three
days I went from the bed to the phone to call in sick to work, then
back to bed, and eventually to the couch, and, once again, back to
bed. I had missed my entire week of work. It wasn’t much of a feat,
since it is only three days, but I hadn’t been in any shape for one
twelve hour day, never mind three of them. When I wasn’t burning
up, I was freezing. My throat hurt like I’d swallowed something
corrosive and my body ached. I’d had nothing to eat but soup, and
half a packet of instant oatmeal. I figured it was the flu, as it
seemed to finally fade enough that I felt
somewhat
back to
normal, minus still being exhausted and some aches that were
holding on like it was all they had. I had noticed the glands in my
neck were fairly swollen as well, with the right one being the
worse of the two, but I figured that would go away eventually
too.

It was mostly
with work in mind when I called my doctor, only to be told he was
away on vacation for another week and a half. Without giving it
much thought, I said that was fine and if need be I’d of course
call back and see his replacement. I figured I would just go to the
walk-in clinic, see a doctor there, and get a note so work wouldn’t
have any ammo to use against me for their attendance policy. To
have been sick and have to go where everyone else was still sick
just to get something that confirmed, yes, I’d been sick, well, it
struck me the same way it sounded.

I cringed
upon entering the clinic. It was obvious I was about to waste
someone’s valuable time. Nearly every seat was taken and I seemed
to be the only healthy soul among them. I went up to the
receptionist and gave her my spiel, which ended on my basic need
for a note. Had I come when I was in bed, nothing would have been
different, except I’d have been there suffering like the others.
Oh, I have the flu, thanks, rest, fluids, I’m old enough to know
this, well then
you
chaperone me when I go to
work.