The Silhouette (Alan Quinn and the Second Lifes)

by Thomas William Shaw

As I neared the principle’s office, I was becoming hesitant. Last time I saw my Mom she was driven beyond madness. Then I thought, “What if it is Dad? Would that not have been amazing?” I erased the idea from my mind. It was foolish. My Dad hardly came to pick me up at school and he wouldn’t use that opportunity to return. He was not that clever.

 

  I got a little nervous as the fish bowl-like office came into view, filled with men and women sitting at computers typing away. I could see a big lady with a fire truck red poof-style hair cut. She was scarfing down a ham sandwich like it was her last meal. A tall man in a dark blue suit stood watching the school cameras. He had a World’s Greatest Boss mug in his hand that he would take sips from, leaving tiny drops of coffee in his bushy mustache.

 

  One person I didn’t see was whoever had arrived to pick me up. I sped up my walk, entered the office and peered around. The receptionist had a huge smile on her face. It was one of those smiles that you worry will take over someone’s head, replacing their face.

  She stared at me with her happy expression for what seemed like an eternity before I broke the silence, “Um, I am Alan Quinn.”

  “Hi, Alan. My name is Stacie.”

  I couldn’t help but think that I was not in the mood for small talk. I said, “I was called to the office to be checked out.”

  “Were you?”

  “Yes, I think it was you that called me here.”

  “Was it?”

  I put my head down. I heard a voice that said, “Just get on with it,” before my satchel lifted up and slammed into my hip. “Ouch.”

  “Do you need a Band-Aid?”

  “What? No. I am here to check out.”

  She flipped her shiny blonde hair and reached for the check out clipboard, “Why didn’t you just say so?”

  I grabbed the clipboard from her to sign my name. The name column for who had checked me out had a signature I did not recognize, but I could easily make out what it said: Reese Alan Quinn.

  The signature wrapped around my heart and ripped at the strings. I said, “This must be some kind of mistake.” The door to the office opened behind me, stealing the receptionist’s attention. I said, “Hey, did you hear me? I think you have some kind of mistake.”

  “Are you ready to go, Alan?”

  I didn’t want to believe what I heard. It was a voice I hadn’t heard in weeks. It was all too much at once. The stress and longing I felt inside fell with it. I turned around.

  Dad was wearing the same black suit from the night he left us. It was pristinely pressed, complimenting itself with a navy blue tie. His face was freshly shaved and his hair was combed to the side. He was handsome, he was happy, but most importantly to me, he was alive.

  He got on one knee, so he wasn’t towering over me. He spread his arms out, but I wasn’t sure. The hurt feelings and rage seeped back in. He had left us alone at a critical time in our lives. Where had he gone? Why was he back now?

  Stacie cheered, “I just love happy endings. Go hug your father! Now!”

  Dad blinked his eyes in an attempt to eliminate his own tears. He whispered, “I am sorry, son. I promise I will explain everything.”

  That wasn’t how I expected all of that to go. Something didn’t feel right. It felt unresolved, anti-climactic. I was happy to see him, but at the same time I wasn’t sure if it was really happening. I walked past him, out the door, and straight out of the school towards his car.

 

  He did not immediately follow me. I took the opportunity to confer with Lathon. I said, “Why doesn’t it feel right?”

  “Perhaps, it is not right. Perhaps, it is too little too late. I cannot answer that question for you.”

  “Because I already know the answer?”

  “Precisely.”

  I sat on the curb, feeling worse than I had during the whole experience of living without Dad. I said, “I just miss him so much. I’ve never had a real father and son experience with him. It was always Mom and I off by ourselves while he did his own thing. He never made an attempt to act like he was my father. Like he was proud of me. Now, this.”

  Lathon said, “Just be careful. There are a lot of pretenses going on that I believe unwise to ignore.”

  “I know. Please stick with me through this.”

  “Every step of the way.”

  My Dad’s voice called from behind me, “Ready to go, sport?”

  “Sport?”

  “Ok, Alan, then. Let us depart on our journey.”

  He walked around the red Jaguar, opened the door and climbed in. The car came roaring to life. If anything, maybe I would learn more about what happened to him. Nervously, I opened the door and climbed inside. After buckling my seatbelt, the car was switched into drive and we drove off.

 

  Dad was clearly happy to see me, but he let me have my time. He was sensitive to my feelings. It wasn’t like aliens, or whatever the dream chasers were, possessed him. He generally cared for my welfare and that scared me the most.

 

  I remained quiet for the duration of the drive. As we got closer to home, I became more comfortable with the idea of having Dad back. Things like Draio, the Silhouettes, or even the dream chasers themselves didn’t cross my mind. A wave of relief crashed over me. It was difficult to find the words to say, but I allowed myself to do something that had been more than difficult for me to do for the last few weeks.

  I allowed myself to smile.

 

  Peaches greeted us when we entered the house by wagging her tail at full blast. Dad playfully tackled her, rolled around, and scratched her tummy. When they were done she ran to me to provide a slobbery kiss on the cheek. She stopped in place once she spotted my satchel.

  “What are you doing, Peaches?” I said. “You want something in my bag?”

  I reached to unlatch it when it hit me that I had forgotten what lived inside. A slight tap hit my shoulder from behind. Lathon whispered into my ear, “Do not worry, Quinn. I will be around, but not too close. Be careful with this one.”

 

  The whisper faded. Even though I could not see him, I felt him walk away.

  Dad got back on his feet, dusted his pants off, and began a tour of the house like he hadn’t seen it in ages. He scanned every photograph on the walls, tested out all of the furniture in the living room. He was blown away by the piano. He hopped on the piano chair and played a nice Beethoven melody. He followed it up by wandering into the kitchen to check the inside of every cabinet. Each discovery lit a tiny light in his eye.

  He was home and, for once, he seemed happy at last to be there.