by Jason Zandri
Matthew nodded and took Melissa by the hand to head into his Dad’s office area to do homework.
Mark watched them round the corner and turned back to Diane. “Are you okay?”
“Oh yes,” Diane said with a sniff. “Complements are scarce at home.”
“I’m sorry about that.” Mark sounded sympathetic. “They shouldn’t be in general, but especially not at home.”
“I can see where Matthew gets his kindness.” Diane leaned over the counter. “I think my sister likes him. You know. Like a girl likes a boy,” she said in a soft whisper.
“Oh,” Mark said, caught somewhat off guard. “Well, I guess I’ll need to have ‘that’ conversation with him soon. At least it’s a nice girl like your sister.”
Diane laughed a little. “She’s nice, but she’s tough too.”
“Matthew can use the challenge. Besides, if she’s anything like you, it’s worth any potential negative,” Mark said as he backed away and turned to head to the garage. “I mean that. Your idea for these two bays is very progressive. I’m encouraged that it will be successful. All I need now, really, is someone to operate that final garage bay for all the things I can’t do.”
***
Diane took on that intense look that she had when she focused on something. Mark could almost feel the look on him. The bell on the door rang as the customer came in to pay for his fuel. With Diane turned away to collect the payment, Mark headed back out to the garage.
CHAPTER FIVE
Even though it was just a few blocks away, Mark insisted on giving the girls a ride back to their house once the workday had ended. Diane indicated she could walk back with Melissa, and Matthew offered to walk with them both, but Mark felt that it was too late and too cold. The temperatures had dropped sharply, and the wind had picked up.
“Thank you for the pizza, Mark,” Diane said from the front seat. She looked back at Melissa, who sat in the back. “You didn’t have to feed us. I’m sure my mother just worked late, and that’s why there was no answer at the house when we called.”
“Oh, it was no trouble,” Mark said as he pulled up to their house. “I was happy to have the company. ‘Just Matthew’ is getting boring.” He chuckled.
Melissa looked down the driveway and noticed both cars. “Joe’s home,” she said in a reserved tone to Diane.
“Is something the matter?” Mark asked, shifting the car into park and turning it off.
Diane jerked the passenger door open, “No, it’s fine. If he’s home, we need to get in. Something must have happened at work. He’s usually on shift until eleven. He’ll be upset we’re both out.”
“I don’t understand,” Mark said, confused, looking back at Matthew, who only shrugged to him.
Diane looked back in at him, and the look was very different than the one he’d grown used to seeing on her face. “Can I just explain things to you tomorrow?” she asked as Melissa got out of the car and the front door opened.
“DI!” the man on the front stoop yelled. “Is Missy with you?” He tugged up on his pants below his spare tire of a stomach. The graying, balding man stood in his robe in the cold winter evening—the look of disdain over his two stepdaughters clearly apparent.
“Hi Joe, yes, we just got done over at the store and had pizza,” Diane said in a nearly frantic tone.
Mark got out of the car and peeked into the back seat. “Stay here,” he said to Matthew before closing the driver’s side door and crossing in front of
the car. “Mr. Canton, hi,” Mark said and strolled up onto the property. “I haven’t had the chance to meet you formally since Diane started working for me.” He looked past Mr. Canton to the woman looking out of the living room window, whom he presumed was the man’s wife and the girls’ mother.
“You girls get inside and go sit with your mother,” Joe snapped, then turned his attention to Mark. “Mr. Sandford—”
“Mark, please. Mark Sanford,” Mark said. The girls went behind him and into the house while Matthew looked up and over the backseat at Melissa, who never turned around. He crawled over the seat to the front passenger side.
“Mr. Sanford, we have a rule about Missy being out with a boy by herself,” he said and pointed a shaky finger back toward the car.
“Totally understandable, Mr. Canton. The eighties bring a whole new generation of things we never grew up with. Well, let me help put you at ease. They were in my office at the store the entire time, legitimately engaged with their homework, and if Diane wasn’t in there with them, I was. As soon as homework was done, as time went, we closed the store and gave the house here a call. When no one answered, I assumed that you and your wife were likely at work still, so I wanted to make sure the girls got fed dinner.”
Joe Canton stood on his front porch trying to size up the man in front of him. He spoke well and put him at ease. “Well … I suppose I can make light of the situation … this one time. The girls know our rules better. It would appear they tried to call; according to you.” Mark was about to interject more in their defense, but he decided to hold off. He wanted to glance around the man, but when he tried just a little, Joe moved over and blocked his view.
***
Matthew could see the girls in the living room occasionally through the drawn drapes when they moved around. While he never met Melissa’s mother, there was another woman in the room with them, and he assumed that was she. He sat forward and pressed himself into the dashboard to try to get a better view from the partial illumination coming out of the upstairs windows, and from the hallway lights. The window in the front left side lit up, but he couldn’t see into it because the trees in the front yard blocked his view. Matthew sank back into his seat.
***
“Well, Mr. Canton, I won’t keep you further. It’s late, and I’m sure you want to get back inside.” Mark studied Joe’s face and his stern look for a second, and then continued, “I mean you worked a hard day, and it’s time to get some respect for that; have a full meal and something to drink and relax a little in front of the TV.”
Joe’s expression changed and relaxed entirely. “Finally,” he said in a calmer manner, “another man that understands the way things are supposed to be. Have a good night … Mark … right?”
“Yes, sir, you have a good night. Make sure you remind that Diane of yours to be on time for tomorrow,” Mark said as he backed away towards his car.
“She’ll be there, early,” Joe said with very little additional emotion.
Mark gave the barest of smiles and waved.
Once he got back to the car, he glanced back over his shoulder at the front door just as it closed.
“What was that all about, Dad?” Matthew asked when his father got in the car and started it.
“That, son,” he said, pulling the car around, “is a remnant from the 1950s.”
“I don’t understand what that means.” Matthew sounded confused.
“Well, it’s hard to explain to you fully. You wouldn’t understand all the nuances; you’re too young. If I simplify the explanation for you, would you promise to keep it between us and not discuss it with Diane or Melissa?”
“Sure, Dad.”
Mark took a deep breath in while turning the car into their driveway.
“Their father is an asshole,” Mark said with the straightest face he could.
Matthew gasped in shock—because his father almost never swore. “If I had to guess, he’s overbearing and gets his way in that household by being totalitarian and by coercion.”
“So I guess you don’t like him?” Matthew asked as he opened the door of the car to get out.
“The man is free to run his household any way he sees fit. It’s his home. At the same time, there are other people there too that have the same right to happiness and respect that he expects to get. I hope he does that.”
Mark got out, picked up the leftover pizza in the box, and followed his son into the house. “At the same time, I somehow doubt that.”
> “What do you mean?” Matthew asked, setting his things down on the kitchen table.
“Well, if I had to judge his character from this one meeting ...” Mark paused while he took the remaining pizza slices out and wrapped them up to put into the refrigerator. “No matter what level of respect he might actually get, he’s likely to presume he’s entitled to more and isn’t getting it. On top of that, with Diane being older, and despite how passive she is, I’m sure he feels like he’s lost a level of control he once had.” Mark tore up the now empty pizza box and dropped the smaller pieces into the garbage. “And then your friend Melissa,” he said, smiling, “she’s a spitfire, I can tell. He won’t be able to control her much longer.”
Matthew listened to everything his father said. Then he looked over at the phone on the wall. “Do you think I could call Mom?”
Mark turned to look at his son. He took a deep breath in and let it all out in a sigh. “It’s a long distance call. If you get through, you’re going to have to keep it short.”
“I know, Dad. I miss her. I was hoping that maybe this time she’ll answer the phone. It’s been a while.”
Mark hated that look of disappointment on his son’s face. He’d seen it so many times before. “Let me place the call for you.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Mark placed the call on the rotary wall phone and, as it rang, he handed the phone to Matthew. He walked into the living room and sat in the recliner while Matthew listened to the phone ring. Mark looked at the clock on the wall: 7:15 here meant it would be 6:15 there ; she should be available if she went home after work.
***
In the kitchen, Matthew pulled the chair out nearest to the wall phone and sat down. He gave the yellow, spiral cord a slight tug to loosen it up a
little and give it some slack.
“Yello,” a man answered on the line after a few rings.
“Um … Hi,” Matthew said. “Is my Mom there?”
“Mom?” the agitated voice asked. “BARB!” the man yelled, sounding as if he had turned his head away from the phone. “Barbara! There’s some kid on the phone looking for his mother.” Matthew could hear footsteps on a hard floor, and they grew louder. Matthew flinched and yelled, “Dad!” to his father and away from the phone receiver.
“Hello,” the woman’s voice said softly over the phone.
“Mom?” Matthew asked as Mark walked into the room.
Barbara sighed into the phone. “Is your father there, Matthew? Does he know you called?”
“He’s right here. I wanted to talk to you. I’m doing well in school. I might get a paper route. I made some new friends and one is a nice girl …”
Matthew blurted it all out in a rush.
“That’s wonderful, dear. Let me speak to your father, please.” Barbara sounded irritated.
“She wants to talk to you,” Matthew said, dejected.
Mark walked over and pulled out the kitchen chair while taking the receiver away. Matthew looked at it, surprised. His father always asked him to leave the room when he spoke with his mother. “I know you’ve asked me to treat you a little older where and when I can. I’m going to do that now,” he said softly while covering the mouthpiece. “It’s not going to be pleasant for you to hear. I wouldn’t think any less of you—no one would—if you wanted to avoid this and deal with it another day.”
Matthew thought about his father’s words for a moment, and rather than leave the room as he had done countless times before, he took the seat instead. Mark pulled the next wooden kitchen chair over and sat facing the other way so he could hold the receiver off his ear a little to let Matthew hear too.
“Hi Barbara, what can I do you for?” Mark asked in even tones.
“Why do you do that? Why do you let him call?” she asked. “Can’t you keep an eye on him?”
“I dialed the number for him. He wanted to talk to you. If you want to be upset, be upset with me.”
“It’s such a simple thing. We’re done. We’ve been separated for over a year and a half, and the divorce has been final nearly a year. You have your life, and I have mine. I don’t want you in it anymore. Or him. I never really wanted kids. We were too young, and I had a life to live still. Now I’m going to, just a little later than I planned. Why is that so hard for you to understand?”
Mark looked over at Matthew, who had slouched back away from the phone upon hearing that part of the exchange. He was crying outright and just short of openly sobbing.
“I think I’ll be able to convince him fully from this point forward of your request for no contact. Your exchange here has made that incredibly simple now.” Mark had to use all his will to keep himself from getting upset in front of his son. He wanted Matthew to see his strength so he might draw from it, as much as his soul wanted to cry for him.
“Well, for Christ sake, I hope so,” Barbara shouted into the phone. “I don’t want to have to change numbers and hand them all out to my family for no reason. It’s over, and I’m done. I’m not going to take these calls anymore.
I was with you because it was a lot of fun. You understood me. But then things happened, and you wanted to settle down. I never wanted to be a man’s wife and I certainly never wanted to be a mother. Everyone talked me out of the abortion. I tried to make a go of it, and I did the best I could for ten years. Ten years!” she said even louder. Mark looked over at his son, who fidgeted in his seat. Mark placed his free hand on his son’s knee. “You can’t save everyone, Mark. Not everyone can be helped. Some don’t even believe they need to be saved. Could my life be better? I don’t know, maybe, but it’s certainly not a bad life that I needed to be rescued from. Certainly not by the likes of you. Not everyone needs a man on a white horse, and you try too hard.” Barbara sighed into the phone. “That life I lived with you and him; I’m not getting that time back. I was miserable. I’m not anymore. I’m happy. I’m not going back to it, and I want no attachments or memories of it. It was the worst ten years of my life, and I wish I could erase them all.”
Matthew leapt up from the chair, tipping it over, and bolted from the room, with his footfalls slamming louder all the way up the stairs to his
bedroom. Mark took the phone down from his ear. He lost the will to keep the tears back and wept, and the slam of the bedroom door at the top of the stairs punctuated his soft sniffs. With Barbara still venting into the phone, he eased to his feet and put the handset back on the receiver without saying another word.
Mark composed himself and thought about the things he wanted to say to Matthew before he went upstairs. Once he’d gathered up as many answers as he thought he might need to questions that might get asked, he went up the stairs on quiet feet.
At the top, Mark leaned over to the right and knocked on Matthew’s bedroom door.
“Leave me alone! I don’t want to talk!” Matthew cried out from behind his door, and his voice came out muffled as if he’d spoken through his pillow.
“Listen, sport, I know that was hard. It was hard on me, and I’m big.
It had to be worse for you. A person can break attachments and feelings from a spouse, but it’s so much harder for a child to do that to a parent.”
“GO AWAY!” Matthew screamed. “I hate you!” he continued and his voice got progressively weaker. “If you just gave her what she wanted, we could still live there! I could still see her. … Maybe she’d change and love me again …” Matthew cried openly again. “She did love me, right, Dad?”
Mark rested his forehead against the door, laid both hands on each side of his head, and touched the wooden grain. If there’s any Creator in the universe, you draw that pain out of my child right now and funnel it into me. I can take it, he can’t. Not like that. As fast as he could, Mark processed responses in his head. At length, he said, “Matthew.” And pressed his head even harder on the door. “Every person has only so much capacity to love, be it for himself or others. Feelings like that are short in supply in every person, and it must be nurtu
red and replenished. There’s no normal amount; it varies from one person to another. If we’re lucky enough, we have people in our lives that give us more than we need, so we can give that love to others the same way we’re loved.”
After a short moment of silence, Matthew opened the door, and Mark stepped back to give him room. Matthew crashed into him, dropping his head into the center of his chest, and squeezed him so tightly that air rushed out of
his lungs. It was the first time Mark had realized how tall and strong his son had become.
“I love you, Dad. I never tell you enough. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, son,” Mark said and tried to breathe in over the bear hug to form his next words. “I love you too.”
Matthew spoke without lifting his head at all. “So I guess that clinches it; it’s going to be just us for now.”
Mark held him tight. “Yes, Matthew. It’s going to be just us.”
“It’s okay,” Matthew replied softly, as much to respond to his father as to convince himself. “We’ll be fine, you and me. Things will work out.”
Mark closed his eyes and held his son. For the first time since they’d returned to Connecticut, he actually believed that.
CHAPTER SIX
Diane worked her way around the store, cleaning up around the makeshift coffee area for the customers. While she wiped down the counter, she peered through the front windows toward the pair of gas pumps that stood on the property, parallel to Route 5. The previous customer to have filled up had left, and a lull fell in the business traffic despite the busy flow along the state road. The late afternoon sun had already begun to drop lower in the western sky. Because of that it seemed later than it actually was, but the days were getting longer.
Diane stepped out into the store expansion area, where Mark worked, and called over to him, “You’ve been at this for about three hours straight; do you think it might make sense to stop for a short break?”
