by Mark McCann
He laughed a bit more and shook his head. He looked at me expectantly at first, then strangely. “You okay, man? You look really, um, rattled or stressed or something, dude,” he asked, probably more concerned and distracted by my unblinking stare. Please, step back from the abyss that was once someone you knew, I thought, suddenly gauging just how far removed I had been for a moment too long.
I smiled falsely, “Thanks for the fun update, hard to keep up with that old codger. I’m just, uh, thinking I’ll have to get a hold of him and see where he’s off to and what … shenanigans he’s … stuff,” I bluffed horribly. I felt I really was losing my mind. I imagined myself telling Charlie he was sweet and pouring syrup on his face. What? This? I just bought it for pancakes. Why you got a pancake face, Charlie?
He looked at me as though I had just begun to slow dance intimately with his mother… and had very busy hands. Had I just said something out loud, I wondered.
I nodded at Charlie, and then shook my head.
“I don’t know what’s going on with my dad, ever since my mom died, it’s just, I don’t even know, it’s just been fucked I guess. It’s just been really, really fucked,” I stopped and fell into a stare again. “I should go… call me,” I said, and hoped it didn’t sound like a dare or like I was going off to call me.
“Oh, and say hi to your mom for me,” I added, really more for myself than him, then laughed and turned suddenly expecting to find someone else there laughing instead. Next, for the tiniest moment, we both stood just staring until I nodded again at him. It was like I needed to in order to end our conversation both officially and casually. Then, as if on cue, I turned and walked away from him toward my car, where I wished I could hide until this all blew over.
Chapter 20 … Back In The Car … Back In The Driveway … Back In The Back Back Of My Mind
I sat in the car in front of the house. I needed a moment… to collect… stuff, and things, in my head. I wanted to make sense of something. I had nothing. What the hell was going on? What was my dad doing? And, on top of that, how on earth were other people getting involved? That was what I really didn’t get: people were joining in. How were others joining something that didn’t make sense? My dad was running a halfway house over there… for the… sexually confused... to which he was sending out invitations. Confused, the word didn’t seem right. Did they know what they wanted but it just wasn’t what the rest of us were used to? It was automatic for me, and maybe everyone, to dislike that which I didn’t understand. I paused. Maybe there was a politically correct attitude in me after all. That had me thinking I should throw myself through the front window of the house and tell Katie just how wrong she was about me.
There was a point days ago when I would have said I was unraveling, but not anymore. I was well past that now; I was completely unraveled. Every thought in my head had become tangled in that mess of kite strings competing for the garbage can. Where was I going with myself and, more importantly, who exactly was asking that question? I felt like I was running out of time to put effort into bringing myself to a state of being… better? I didn’t know. I knew that much. I needed to do something and I knew it wasn’t outside me the way I kept making it seem. I needed to change something, something about myself. . Didn’t we all? I had tried, hadn’t I? After my mom died, I began reading all those books that were supposed to be relevant to living. It struck me as relative thing to do in the face of death: trying to live better. I should have learned something about myself in the process, shouldn’t I have? I achieved to a degree some level of success. I had quieted myself internally. Or had I? I rested my forehead against the steering wheel. Since Nate had gotten that call, and after meeting Candy, and whatever else happened in there, no matter how far removed I found myself, the most insignificant moment threw me right back into it, right back into all sorts of knots and tangles. And still, even while being snagged in so many ways, my mind raced and stumbled only to race some more. All I could think now was HOLD STILL; you are only going to make things worse clamouring about like that.
My phone beeped. It was another text from Katie, um hello? everything ok? I love you. I replied that I would be home soon. The phone felt heavy in my hand. I considered again or, more accurately since the consideration to phone my dad had been constant, I again gave that stream my attention. I still couldn’t find any words that wanted to be said out loud. The details: they were the problem, and, more specifically, so was how to address them. ‘Hey dad, is Uncle Donnie a drag queen? Or does Candy sometimes dress up like Uncle Donnie? Or is she Uncle Donnie? Can they do that? Just wondering…’
I had the idea that I should just go visit him, but it occurred to me there would be no guarantee he’d be alone. I could hardly think about these things, never mind talk to my dad about them in front of an audience, not that audience. I’d just be in there stuttering and muttering. No chance of that, so I would have to call him and ask him to meet me somewhere for coffee; maybe that could work. I would have to not think about it, not build it into something that could only fall apart. I would tell him no drinking, to just drive there, like an adult, and if he could do that, I would certainly do the same. I opened the car door. I just might have been on my way to believing something.
Chapter 21 … H is for Holy Effing Hell
“This has got to stop,” I said to Katie before I’d even shut the front door behind me. She looked at me like I had come through the door as a bear. She was standing in the living room. The boys were climbing on the couch cushions they’d piled in the centre of the room. “Daddy,” they shouted one after the other.
“Hi guys,” I said with a smile before turning my attention back to Katie. “Not this, us, I mean this, my dad, my dad this and… and all the effing crazy stuff that goes with that. Like, holy crap, I am losing my mind over all of it. Granted, yeah, sure, who knows, maybe I was losing it before any of this. I don’t know: I feel like I ran out of time to figure that out.” I looked at her like what I said next was going to make it all make perfect sense. I took a deep breath, “I was just talking to Charlie down at the bank. He saw my dad last night. Okay, he said someone that he could have sworn was my uncle Donnie was with my dad dressed in drag.”
“Your dad was in drag? Or your uncle was?”
“Uncle,” I said loudly like I had just given up.
Katie shrugged to indicate she didn’t know either. I stood pulling at my chin. “Something wants to suck myself into myself, and – man, that sounds horrible, doesn’t it? Oh God, I’m being bombarded here.” I quickly swung my shoulders as if trying to get away from someone reaching for me from behind. I then bent over slightly like I’d run there unwillingly from too far away. I stepped forward and then back, and began to moan as though I were in a great deal of pain. I straightened to end my dramatic exaggeration, figuring if she didn’t get the point by now, she never would.
“I don’t even know if I’m saying what I should be. Everyone is so effing politically correct and friggin’ anal as hell,” I paused, made a face like I had stepped in something awful; I blinked and shook my head. “I just, I’m sure to offend someone the second I talk to anyone about it. Hell, I’m offending myself by talking about it. Like, WHAT?” I exclaimed loudly. “WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? I DON’T KNOW – I THINK THAT’S MY POINT. And it’s not like I’ll allow myself to Google this stuff; there are just some things I need to be in the dark about. I’m thinking this is definitely one of them. What one might call ignorant, I’m calling naïve, maybe even innocent. I’m afraid of what kind of porn would come up, or what if I found out my dad has a website? I simply don’t want to know. Is that so bad? Why can’t the man just drink alone like your mom?”
Katie looked at me, confused, “I don’t… okay, you said what to who? Do you mean to Charlie? Like just now?” she asked trying to catch up with my train of thought. She sat down on the couch and watched me still standing by the door.
“No,” I shook my head, “well, yes,” I corrected, suddenly feeling
very tired, “I said, what, to Charlie, like, quite literally, a lot. I just – am I really going to have to speak about these things specifically in order for them to go away? Or, okay, maybe what I mean is if I am going to; I’d like to be able to do so as an adult, but, right there, I know it’ll come out completely wrong because I have yet to, in my life, feel like an adult. I don’t think I know what I’m talking about. I don’t know. I’m fine when we joke and say what we will to one another here, but I’m really not sure I even know what I’m addressing here. I mean, I was saying to you transvestite, you told me it’s transsexual, and I’m pretty sure you’re right. Crap, I just don’t know. I don’t know why I’m making a big deal out of the stupid wording. I think I’m just trying in vain to distract myself. Yeah, well, it’s not working and now I resent it for its lack of… distraction power. I mean, I know I’m not going to offend my dad. Jeez, who even knows what words he’s using? Or maybe he just doesn’t. I don’t know if I even know him anymore Katie,” I exclaimed painfully, as it had just occurred to me.
She already was at me, hugging me tightly, and rubbing my back.
“I do not even know where to begin or how to respond to any of that,” Katie said softly. She made a pouting face. “You’re kind of all over the place, you need to focus, my love,” she said with the most generous smile. “Most of all, I really do think you need to talk to your dad about this. He’s going through something we can’t imagine. We have this. I cannot fathom for the life of me what it would be like to lose you after having had you so much longer than I have already. You really need to talk to him, even if it is just to tell him what you’ve told me right now. Honestly, love, you will feel better, I know you will. And, yeah, it’s all a little crazy at the moment, but you know it’s not going to kill you to talk to him. For the sake of your relationship, hell, for the sake of your health,” she stopped and smiled sweetly. “You know what; maybe we’re getting ahead of ourselves here, maybe you need to just really listen to your dad. I’m sure you both can get this back to where everyone is comfortable and where you can handle it. Either way, you’ll have done what you can. I think you owe yourself and your father at least that.” She kissed my cheek.
I stayed where I was in the doorway, she returned to the couch. I was unsure if I was just starting to shake my head or if I had never stopped, “Seriously, you don’t understand,” I said. “Okay, I will show you, starting, like, right now, I am going to keep track of how many times I say, ‘I don’t know’ or ‘Are you effing kidding me’ or anything like that, like, ‘You’re effing kidding me,’ that will count for that one, too. So, on a piece of paper, no, two pieces, one for each, or… no, I’m going to get, because I’ll need them, notepads, actually, books, notebooks, one for each sentence. And I’m going to write each sentence on the cover. I’ll get a light blue one and a black one and I’ll get angry at the black one because I won’t be able to make out what I wrote on it very well, like I’ll be able to see it, but only at a certain angle in the light, but that will just, I don’t know, see, what am I at, seven? That stupid book is already causing me grief, Katie! That stupid book with the black cover; what the hell; it’d be like giving someone the finger in the dark. So, once I’ve thrown that book out and replaced it with like a stupid green one or something, I will make ticks in them to count those sentences, okay? That way you’ll see how much I’m at a loss for… knowledge, and the what.” My head nodded. I was certain it was going along with the shooting pain that just kept going back and forth.
Katie looked at me, listening politely; a smile growing at the same pace my curiosity was regarding her smile. There was a sparkle in her eyes, something had her quite amused, something more than this mere rant of mine.
“What?” I asked when she finally had laughed.
“Distracted much?”
“What do, what do you mean?” I asked slowly, wondering why she wasn’t just saying it already.
“It just amazes me how you go off in different directions; the slightest distraction redirects you and just how far off you end up going depends on when you or I, ahem, catch it.” She shook her head and laughed some more.
“What,” I said again.
“Lewis, honey, I love you very much, just come in and try to relax, okay,” she said soothingly, maybe patronizingly, with a beckoning hand. She smiled, “I’ll go and get the pizza you were going to get.”
“Ah,” I said quietly, followed by, “BALLS,” not quietly at all, and spun completely around on the spot. “Bouncing balls of fun,” I said and put my hand onto Knuckle Butt’s head as he held up a train of his for me to see, “That’s okay, I just got side tracked, I’ll be right back,” I muttered, and wondered if the words even made it through the seething frustration that had surely reddened my face.
As fast as I was in going out the door; I stopped to take great care in shutting it behind me as slowly as I could. I moved like it was meant to be a secret that these things even made sound. I wanted to slam it shut like it was to blame for everything. I suddenly let go of the handle. What was wrong with me? I was being sarcastic with an object.
Chapter 22 … Trust Me, I Know What You’re Doing
We were lying in bed, talking about the things we’d forgotten about earlier and wanted to get out before we’d forgotten them for good by tomorrow. That was my excuse, anyway, for not letting her sleep. She smiled giddily. Her love for me was always right there, right where I could see it. I smiled at that and at her.
“They say it’s my duty to critique my surroundings… otherwise I become a part of them.” I felt like I wasn’t thinking; that the thoughts were just somehow coming out of my mouth. “Maybe that’s why I haven’t written for so long: I’m a part of my surroundings. I need to see them again or something… oh, good old something, where would I be without something.”
“Why don’t you write that stuff, your witty – whatever?” she said, as if common sense was the same as encouragement. I was pretty sure advice lacked conviction when it ended with whatever.
I nodded anyway. “That’s a good idea, if I can combine that whatever with my something; I might actually be able to come up with… some ever or what thing… maybe some whatever thing or, I guess, something else. I thought I had something... I’m confused.”
“I’ll whatever your something,” she said threateningly with a giggle, to which my eyes alone said eek. Steven then jumped onto the bed and curled up at the bottom of my feet. I placed my hand on Katie’s leg and made a face like what was to follow may hurt to say or to hear.
“They say writers and artists, and whoever – I don’t know – often share the same characteristics as manic depressives and schizophrenics. That’s what those ‘they’ I told you about say about writers.”
“Who says that about writers?”
“Oh God; your parents, they are your parents. Your dad called me last night, and said, ‘Hey, did you know that you writers are fucked by design.’ And then there was a long awkward pause where he thought something would sink in and I tried to get something out of my eye. They say it; the ‘they’ they always talk about.”
“They talk about themselves?”
“Maybe, when they’re not talking about you or no one else is talking about them, they might.”
“Kind of seems like a lot of wasted energy, these tabs they’re keeping.”
“That’s them for you, by them I mean they, Kate, that’s what they do. They need to measure everything, practical, impractical, you can’t hold reason to these things, you can’t even disagree, well, you can, but you can’t be heard doing it. Well, you can be heard disagreeing with everything, but they won’t ever hear it. They don’t have to, I don’t think.”
“God, you are so strange,” she laughed out loud, while in my head I accepted her apology for calling me strange.
I kept my serious expression intact and shook my head, “That was the worst prayer ever,” I warned. “No wonder we don’t have good things coming out of our yin yangs.�
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“Um, excuse me, I’m here with you, we have a roof over our heads, and, most important of all, we have two beautiful and healthy children sleeping in the room next to us.” Her eyes were wide. It felt like she was always looking at me wide-eyed about something I was saying or doing.
“I know that, I’m talking about shallow things, like nice cars and bigger houses, and more nice cars in front of our extra houses, you know, cars with two windshield wipers.”
“What? Why, what happened to your windshield wipers?”
“Um, nothing, except I was trying to pry it off the windshield, and the ice said, ‘No,’ and I said, ‘Well, some of it,’ and stuff snapped and then the windshield said, ‘Fine, take the whole thing, but not all at once.’ And so, yeah, I need to buy a new wiper, and ask the neighbours if they found the old one. It’s not a big deal… have you seriously not noticed?”
“Um, okay, and what do you mean, if they found the old one?”
“Well, yeah, like two months ago; there was a lot of snow outside because of that winter thing we get, so I was celebrating the fact that the wiper came off right in my hand by swinging it and I kind-of dropped it on the upswing, and so it fell up through the air and landed over across the road somewhere. And I was kidding; I’m not going to ask them for it. It’s broken, I don’t freaking need it.”
