A Father's Dreams

by Andrew Petoski

  The food is soon gone and I begin to feel empty again, not from lack of food rather the lack of company. In disdain, I put my plate in the sink and take my coffee out to the front porch. The air is still quite crisp as the sun has yet to burn off the morning dew. Soon the parents will be back with their children, dropping them off for someone else to raise them in their stead at the school. Not wanting to wait around and mope at the scene I go inside and put my coffee in a thermos and grab my coat.

  “Keys, where are the keys?” I think. The 67’s is in the garage, but I can’t take that. It’s not ready yet, and it isn’t exactly summer weather. I start checking all the drawers in the kitchen, the hooks by the door; I go in the bedroom and check the dresser and nightstand. Almost ready to give up and have a smoke I put my hands in my jacket pockets and what do you know? There they are.

  Relieved that I didn’t really lose them, I’m just forgetful as hell. Going out to the drive I start the truck and let it warm up as I sip on my coffee outside. The windows are fogged but are slowly becoming clear. I’m in no rush and take in the sunrise peeping through the trees behind the garage. I wait until the sun becomes fully visible before stepping into the truck, ignoring the talk of the parents behind me.

  Being careful to not hit any families I creep out of the drive and wave to a father and his son who are waiting for me to pass on the sidewalk. The crossing guard stops me at the corner as children cross, and then I am set free.

  Driving through town I set my course for Edward’s Bait and Tackle Shop. Edward’s just an old retired guy that’s enjoyed fishing all his life. He can’t settle down and relax worth beans so he runs pretty much the best supplied shop in town. Pulling into the gravel lot I park the truck and head inside but am stopped by a locked door.

  Shoot, he doesn’t open until eight during the weekdays and it’s, well, it’s only ten minutes to so I go lean up against the truck and light up a smoke. The crickets behind the shop begin to stop their chirping as the traffic begins to pick up and the noise from everyone’s business begins to drown out the sounds of nature.

  The air is still here, the breeze now gone. My smoke lingers in the air and I exhale into the hovering clouds. Done now, I put my butt in an old can in the bed of the truck and hear that familiar click of a deadbolt. I look up and see Ed unlocking the shop. He spots me and opens the door with a jingle of the overhead bell hitting the door.

  “Morning Ben,” he greets me.

  “Morning Ed,” I reply.

  “You spend time with Hadley again?” Ed’s like a dad to me and knows me better than anyone else. He knows about how I spend my time alone with Hadley and Matthew. He gets how hard it is to not have a family but to want nothing more so badly. His wife passed away about three years ago from liver cancer and he’s been my loner partner since. He doesn’t speak much about his son other than how he was lost to the service.

  I was a service man myself. I spent eight years in the Navy and loved every moment I spent at sea. The trouble was the politics and B.S. that always came back around when we ported. I couldn’t even make one family for myself no matter how much I tried to put myself out there, exposing my soul to anyone I could get close to with no avail. Yet there were officers that had a family in the states with kids that loved them and couldn’t wait for them to return but it wasn’t enough for them so they had separate wives and kids in different countries throughout the world that they would see maybe once every six months and give money to so that they were supported, all without the knowledge of the other families.

  I had enough of that crap and called out one officer that had the audacity of pointing out my singleness which landed him with a broken jaw and me in the brig followed by a swift discharge due to misconduct towards an officer. Such political silver spoon bullshit.

  Anyway I tell Ed of last night’s fishing trip with Hadley. He listens intently as we walk around the shop turning displays on for the day ahead. Before I’m able to finish the story of my fishing trip, Ed hands me two rods and reels. They’re not top of the line but will perform just as well and really don’t break the bank. We head over to the next aisle and he hands me a small green metal tackle box as I had described.

  “Thanks Ed it means a lot.”

  “No worries I understand,” he replies. I pay for the gear and Ed pulls out some jigs from behind the counter and throws them in the tackle box. “They’re on the house. Just don’t go telling anyone else. Don’t ask to pay for them either. They’re last year’s model and I’m not suppose to have them in here anymore anyway.”

  “Your secret’s safe with me Ed.”

  “Yours too Ben,” we shake hands and I pick up my newly acquired gear and head out of the store. Not wanting the poles to get scratched I carefully place the new gear in the back seat of the truck and set the tackle box on the floor. I give one last wave to Ed as I back out and pull away.

  Driving through town I take the side roads and pull up to the end of a boat ramp. Looking up I see the bridge where I was with Hadley last night. I sit there starring at the walkway wishing she could really be there with me.

  My coffee is beginning to get cold, so I chug it before I can’t stand to drink it anymore. Taking one last look at the walkway, I back up and drive off. Not quite ready to go home yet I drive around town and pass all the schools I could think of. It’s like torture therapy seeing what I don’t have. For whatever reason, I have to put myself through it.

  I’m done with the torture and turn on the radio to a good rock channel and start to jam out. Now that most people are at work I own the road. Pulling up next to a cop I make sure my seatbelts on as he stares at me. I roll down my windows all the way and turn up the volume and start bobbing my head to the rhythm for him, and he just shakes his head and pulls away when the light turns green. I wait for a car to pass then take my left and head for the country.

  Just going for a cruise is a great way to get me feeling more upbeat and recenter myself. It takes about ten minutes to get to my destination. A country road with a railroad track about half a mile down the road. I open up the truck and head down the road going faster. I coast at about seventy and launch the truck over the tracks. The air I get is doubtfully more than a couple inches but the thrill and churn of the stomach makes me feel like a youth again.

  The thrill is soon over, and I start back towards home. I’m happy for the first time in a while from the excitement of the road and my morning purchase. I keep jamming out all the way home and pull hard into the driveway coming to a quick stop. I turn the car off, and the silence of the radio turning off quickly consumes me and my good mood soon turns somber.

  Grabbing the tackle box and rods I shut the door and head into the house. Setting the fishing gear on the table I go into my room and find the safe in my closet. The safe opens after a couple tries as it’s a real finicky thing. I take the key from inside the safe and leave the door open for a moment as I walk back to the kitchen.

  There’s a door off the kitchen I keep locked with a latch and padlock. I use the key to unlock the padlock and set them both on the table. Grabbing the fishing gear, I walk back to the door and open it up. I walk inside the dark room and find just the right place to set the items. I then walk out and close the door behind me. The padlock soon follows and I let out a deep sigh locking away my secret. The key is returned and the safe is closed and locked.

  I’m alone again and don’t know what to do, but I desperately need a distraction. I go outside and briefly light another cigarette from the stress and anxiety I’m experiencing. My hands begin to shake, and I can feel my legs becoming weak.

  I break. Cigarette still burning I let myself down to the back stoop and begin to cry. My palms are trying to hide the tears, but I know no one can see me anyways over the fencing. But I still try to hide myself. I take deep breaths to try and relax. It’s a slow process, but it works. My cigarette is gone now, so I light another and stand back up. Wiping away the tears I stare at my watch, and it’s now ten
thirty. I have an appointment with Dr. Schuder at four. I have time to probably take a nap and visit with Matt to get my mind off of Hadley.

  I return inside the house and take my usual double double of whiskey with pineapple juice. Turning on the TV I put on a sci-fi movie and settle into my chair. The whiskey creeps up as the aliens are introduced on the TV, and I begin to fade. I quickly snap myself awake to set an alarm on my phone for three so I can make it to the appointment on time, and then the heaviness of my lids wins.

  3

  Matthew is running around the house with a white caped blanket tucked into his shirt and held with clothespins with a tinfoil cap to protect his brain from the aliens. He runs over with a broom gun to protect me.

  “Duck they’re coming from the air,” he shouts pointing the broom to random corners of the ceiling and making shooting noises. I duck down and reach behind the couch to pull out an early birthday present for him. Holding onto it on my lap I wait for him to finish fending off the aliens and turn around. He turns and starts searching the present for a name tag.

  “Is it for me?” he asks.

  “Yes, it is,” I respond handing him the newspaper wrapped package. He gleams and takes the present and shakes it by his ear.

  “Hmm, not sure,” he begins to tear open the wrapping. He gets the short side peeled and sees the label. “NO way!”

  “Way,” I tell him. He ripped through the rest of the packaging in seconds and takes out the BB gun I got for him. “Now you can really get those aliens, but no shooting in the house and no shooting without dad.”

  “Okay, can we go out back now?”

  “Sure,” I chuckle.

  Taking the BB gun back from him I finish taking the product out of its package. We go to the back where I put a container of BBs on the window sill by the back door earlier, knowing we would be there shortly.

  “Matt, go grab some cans out of the recycle bin.” He eagerly complies searching for the best ones which were not yet crushed.

  We walk outside together, and I instruct Matt to sit in the lawn along the back of the house and wait for me there. Carrying the BB gun with me, I go into the garage and grab an old empty box to set the cans up on. Coming back out I set up the box in front of the wood fence for a safety stop so we don’t go hitting any of the neighbors. I approach Matt and stand firmly in front of him.

  “Now there are some rules we have to go over before you can shoot,” I tell him.

  “Okay, what are they?”

  “Well rule number one is never point the gun at anything you don’t intend to shoot. So no people, animals, windows or anything else but the cans or targets I give you.”

  “Okay and number two?”

  “See this little switch?” I point in front of the trigger at a switch I toggle back and forth from green to red. “Always keep this switch on green until you are aiming at your target and are ready to fire.”

  “So, only point at what I’m going to shoot and keep the button on green until I’m aimed and ready. Anything else?”

  “Yup, there’s more but we’re almost done. See the trigger? You need to keep your finger off and away from the trigger until you’re aimed on target and ready to shoot.”

  “Okay, can I go now?”

  “There’s one more thing. You have to be aware of your target and what’s beyond it. So looking at the cans is there anything behind the cans?”

  “Yeah the fence.”

  “Correct. Now what’s behind the fence?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Good. Now what if old Mrs. Brooks is out in her garden?”

  “I can’t shoot because the BB could go through the fence and hit Mrs. Brooks.”

  “Very good,” I say proudly handing him the BB gun. He gleams as he receives his prize. Showing him how to load the BBs I help him out the first time. “Now pump the gun five times to get pressure. Just keep an eye on where you’re pointing that thing while you pump it.” He keeps it pointed down range just fine as he counts out his pumps allowed.

  “Now when you’re aiming you want your sights to look like this.” Taking a stick I draw a U with a line coming up from the center bottom in the dirt. “Now that middle one, the front sight, is the most important. Make sure you’re focused on that with it covering the center of the can and equal light on both sides like I drew.”

  “Okay,” he says focused in. He pulls the trigger but jerks it at the last second in anticipation and misses all the cans. “Dang it,” he scoffs.

  “That’s okay we just need to work on your trigger pull,” I take the bb gun back and pretend to load it again then hand it back. He takes aim and pulls the trigger again jerking it, but nothing comes out.

  “Nothing happened, where’d the BB go? “I didn’t put one in. We’re going to keep practicing pulling the trigger until you’re ready.” I fake load the gun another three times until he eases his pull and the jerking stops. This time when I take the BB gun, I load one for real and hand it back to him. Matt completes his five pumps and takes aim. He pulls the trigger and knocks a can clear off the box.

  “Nice shot,” I tell him with a pat on the back. “Now remember when you’re pulling the trigger, slow is smooth and smooth is fast. You’ll get it, just keep practicing.” Handing him the bottle of BBs I head back inside to give him some space so he can relax his shot without pressure. He’s hitting about one of every four, which is not bad for his first time really shooting. Pouring myself a cup of coffee I set up a chair by the window and take out a sudoku book to pass the time while he practices.

  Forty minutes pass and he starts to call it quits after hitting about three of every four shots now. Pointing the BB gun down towards the ground he walks back in and hands me the gun.

  “Thank you Matt, you have enough for today?” I ask.

  “Yeah that was awesome,” he replies. I dump the extra BBs from the gun into my hand and put them back into the container. “Now you can never leave it loaded like this. Always make sure you take out all the bbs when you’re done so no one gets hurt when you’re not using it,” Matt nods back in acknowledgement. Taking the gun to the kitchen I put it up above the cupboards where only I can reach it. Sure he could climb up on the counter to get it, but he’s never alone here without me watching him like a hawk. Of course, if he’s in his room doing his drawings or reading a book then I chill out and let him be.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask him.

  “Yeah, what’s for dinner?”

  “How about steak?”

  “Hell yeah!” “Mouth,” I reply. He shuts his mouth but it really didn’t bother me. I have a horrible sailor’s mouth from the Navy, but I’m just trying to instill good principles into him early.

  Going outside I turn on the gas to my cheater grill, propane that is. I call them cheater grills because they’re quick and easy but they still don’t hold a flame to a nice charcoal or briquette grill for flavor. Matt has gone off to clean up while I warm up the grill.

  “Is it heated up yet?” I jump a little, darn he was fast.

  “Not quite but we can season the meat while we wait.”

  Walking into the kitchen I take down the spice rack from the cupboard and pull out my five favorite spices and set them on the counter.

  “Take whichever ones of those you want and sprinkle them on your steak to your liking,” I tell him.

  He starts with the salt and pepper like his old man then adds basil and a little bit of crushed mint, interesting choice. I prep mine in the same manner as his to try a little something new. Then we walk our plates out to the grill.

  Opening the top, the heat wave hits us and I think my eyebrows singed a little bit. First I lay mine out onto the grill and then take Matt’s and lay it on for him. It’s just too hot to let him do it himself.

  Handing him a soda, I crack a beer open for myself and we stand there together watching our meat cook. We both like it medium-rare so after about five minutes a side where the temperature is at should be good.

&
nbsp; When they were ready I hand Matt the spatula and let him flip them for us. The flames flare up as he flips. Some people will press on them for a little flare but I think that just takes away from the flavor. A few minutes more and my beer is gone, but the steaks are ready. Matt plates them up for us, and we go inside.

  Grabbing another beer from the fridge I take the butter as well. There’s just nothing else like butter on a steak, all those sauces people get for them just drown out the natural goodness.

  We sit at the table and cut our first bites. The mint hits me first, it was a nice touch and quickly fades away as the salt and pepper take over the after flavor. Just couldn’t ask for anything more right now. Boy’s got his first gun, sitting down with him eating a good steak and no one to interfere with our joy.

  The timer goes off on the oven. It puzzles me as I didn’t remember putting anything in. I check the oven, and it’s cold but the timer goes off again. This time there are vibrations coming from my pocket. It’s not the oven but my phone going off.

  I startle awake from a deep snore. Looking at my phone Dr. Schuder is blinking in front of me. Its only a few minutes past three so I got plenty of time to take a shower and get ready. I swear the only times I really take care of myself is when I’m getting ready to go see her every week.

  The water starts cold, and I back into the corner of the shower waiting for it to warm up. A minute passes and the steam now lets me know its safe to enter the waterfall. I hate showers, but I hate being talked to about my hygiene more. Soap, lather, rinse, soap lather, rinse. The cycle is so monotonous. My beard is the worst, so darn itchy I scrub it like four times before I just give up on it. I wince at the dingleberry as it is pulled off, but then I get one clean ass.

  I scrub my hands and call it good. Turning the water off, I step out as soon as I can because the shower can make me claustrophobic. I hate drying off in it.