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Sitting at his desk covered in his wife’s paperwork, Sidney reaches
the end of his rope. He removes his glasses and wipes his damp face on
his rolled-up sleeve. The light from the small lamp at the desk’s
corner leans on him like the sun and his eyes begin to fall to their knees.
Giving up, he pulls a bottle of brandy from his bottom desk drawer and
pours himself a tall glass. It reminds him of his youth when he would
relish the opportunity to stand two empty bottles on the windowsill in
time for the sunrise. They seem like black and white televisions to him
now, and that makes him sad.
Meanwhile up in his room, Jack sits on his bed holding the umbrella like
a sword. It feels heavy in his hands and even though his arms tire, he
continues to hold it still. The pain rests his mind like an anchor. When
he can no longer hold his arms, he rests his hold and makes his mind up.
“Well, I’m gonna have to break this to Pop.”
Jackson finds his father at the kitchen table beside the small television.
(It’s important to remember that In the 1990’s, small televisions
were like first-aid kits for family kitchens.) Sidney notices the boy
and turns down the program. Before he says a word, he checks the contents
of his glass. “I didn’t expect an appearance from you tonight.”
Jack gathers his voice, “I’m sorry Dad but--”
“I understand why you’ve been up there.”
Sidney Shoemaker locks his hand around the glass of brandy and awkwardly
adds, “I’ve never told you how we met, your mother and I.”
Jack doesn’t look up from his lap. “It’s weird to think
of you two that way, one without the other.”
“I’m sorry about that.” He puts his hand on his son’s
shoulder like a small blanket.
Jackson shrugs, “It’s not your fault. It just feels like it
wasn’t just Mom who died, but And died too, you know? Mom and Dad.
It’s weird.”
Sidney isn’t used to feeling this fragile. “I… It’s
hard for me without your Mother here.” He’s scared he might
start talking to his son like another person. He can feel it slipping
out of himself like a rough bout of honesty from an aging bender. “But
there’s some things we have to get sorted, we have to decide,“
the end of his sentence drops from his trembling lips into his brandy.
He carefully tries to fish the words back out but they are soaked and
ruined.
“It’s hard to talk about this, Dad. It’s hard to even
wrap my head around it.”
Sidney knocks over his glass, “You’re going to have to start
trying.”
“I am! I’m trying to make sense out of this.“
Sidney gives his son a look that he has never given before. “You’re
not even here.”
Sidney pours himself another glass and goes to work on it. Jackson takes
his chance to edge back in. “Dad? I need to tell you something.”
“What is it Jack?”
“I can’t think here Dad. You said we have all these things
to think about, and I’m up in my room every day and I can’t
think of anything.”
Sidney pauses before he replies, “You shouldn’t worry about--”
“That’s not for you to decide.” Jackson’s eyes
flash with an after-shock from the storm that claimed his brother.
Sidney snaps, “I forbid it. It’s been too long already.”
“I have to get out of this place. I need to move if I’m going
to figure this out.”
Sidney looks down at his drink. “You’re not going. Not again.
You aren’t going.”
Jackson can’t even look his father in the eyes. “I’ll
be fine.”
He stands up from his chair and quietly leaves the table. As he makes
his way back up the stairs, Jack can hear his father turn the television
up to cover the sounds of his fears. Up in his room, Jack packs a suitcase
of clothes. Finally he clips a tie to his shirt, grabs his Heidenburg
Long-Arm 6000, and disappears out the front door.
[B]
BACK | NEXT
Dedication
Chapter 1 - Two Bookends
On A Couch
Chapter 2 - Battery Fluid
Chapter 3 - Whose Fuse Is The Muse
Chapter 4 - Why Widows Sing The Blues
Chapter 5 - Welcome to Sears
Chapter 6 - Fortress of Solitude
Chapter 7 - Rite of Passage
Chapter 8 - Letters of Arrival
Chapter 9 - Keeping Busy
Chapter 10 - You Can’t Teach a Gorilla
to Golf
Chapter 11 - Satellite
of Love
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