A Tapless Shoulder

by Mark McCann

  “WHAT? Uh, my butt is not a show or – why am I still standing here talking to you?”

  “Because you love me,” I insisted, “but, I mean… maybe… now I’m not even sure I know what we were talking about anymore.” It was true, I wasn’t sure if I had gotten halfway to forgetting or halfway to giving up. I decided it didn’t matter which it was.

  We both laughed and then hugged each other tightly.

  “Poop,” she tried to remind me, “and your file.”

  “Oh yeah,” I said and nodded, “come Monday I’m asking to smell my file.”

  “You mean Saturday,” she corrected me.

  “No, ‘file stuff,’ I imagine, would have to be dealt with when the office peeps were in and that pushes us back to Monday.”

  “Oh… right.”

  “Yeah,” I said softly.

  “So besides that, how was your day? Did it get better?”

  “It did, it did get better,” I answered finally in the serious tone we had been moving toward. “As usual, I spent the day cleaning garbage bins, basically trying to wipe garbage from garbage with a handful of garbage. And when I said I needed help with all the garbage in my garbage, they gave me a monkey, a cute, little helper monkey. But this monkey could do one thing and one thing only. This helper monkey could only throw its own poop; not mine, not yours, not paper clips, not sponges. Well, unless it had eaten all of that and we of course waited, because of, you know, the whole ‘throwing its own poop’ thing. Okay and whether that had actually been a help to me or not didn’t matter as eventually the day was over. Or so I thought because then, at the very end of the day, that effing monkey was promoted. That’s who I report to tomorrow. Do I need to remind you of its only ability? Anyway, yeah, like I said, things are looking up and it is about time!”

  She smiled and shook her head. I did the same. She giggled. I then kissed her with a real kiss, passionate, and hard, like two faces trying to get a grip on one another.

  Chapter 28 … Kids, Today’s Lesson Is That… Um, Okay, Yes, Daddy Hit That Man, But, Because… See…

  “Your kid kicked my son in the face, and you did nothing? Correction: you are doing nothing? On the ladder he looks down and goes, oh, DOOSH, for no reason at all, but maybe because he could! Don’t tell me kids will be kids, no shit, really? And people that punch people will probably be punching people, I mean, hey, people that kick people are obviously kicking people,” I was fighting myself to keep from shouting as I felt control fall away in my head. This was big, and I simply wanted him to do something any normal parent would have done when their child wronged another child: at the very least say something corrective to them. Or, okay, fine, don’t say anything if that proves to be too difficult, but then take them by the hand and leave and do it quickly. I was beside myself now, and knew enough to step back.

  The father of the boy was simply void of reaction and that had me twitching with anger. I wasn’t sure if I was moving with each beat of my heart or if the world was. Every second that went by without him doing anything felt like another step towards him, but, had that been the case, I’d have been a hundred feet on the other side of him now. Fuck, take the fucker the fuck home; I realized I swore insanely in my head when violently angry. You’re a parent; do you not realize you are erasing his innocence with your ignorance? I believe that is why we are in this situation to begin with!

  I was standing very close to the father, letting him know with my invasion of his personal space that it was not over yet, not with me. And regardless of how much he ignored me, I wasn’t going away. He still showed no signs of doing anything about his son’s misbehaviour, or mine. That did it: it was just too far gone. He had waited too long and had now missed any chance of redemption.

  “Are you stupid?” I decided to throw a few questions at him. “Is that what this is about, you’re an idiot, so your kid is a little brat?” I had his attention now. I hated saying it. I believed that environment played an enormous role in a kid’s life, and I didn’t blame this poor boy, he hardly stood a chance under such poor leadership. No, for the time being, this boy was stuck with his old man, whose attention I had badly wanted and now gotten with my last remark. In fact, he was looking at me like I was driving the wrong way down a one-way street. He tried to look fierce but I could sense him backing off, and then he shrugged and retreated to his nonchalant take on the whole thing. Casually he said, as though I needn’t worry myself, “They’re just playing, no biggie,” then looked at me and, seeing I wasn’t accepting it, added, “It was just an accident.”

  “Are you,” I paused and shook my head with clenched teeth, which I meant to mean ‘I’m swearing at you without swearing at you,’ “…serious? How was that an accident? Do you mean in the scheme of things it was accident because you were an accident? And now you don’t know how to father your kid so he is mean and a bully? Do you enjoy watching him be like that to other kids? My son was crying because of yours and you haven’t said a thing to anyone, never mind your kid. Were you picked on or something? Because I would think remembering what it felt like to be picked on would be enough to call you to action to prevent it.” I leaned in slightly, not too close to him, and said, almost hissing, “You may want to wipe that fucking smile off your face.” The moment had become so inflated that I wondered how I would keep my feet planted when the air let out.

  “Just relax,” he turned so his side was to me, and watched his son as though now he had a genuine interest in what he may have been doing. He turned back to face me again with his idea of a thought, “That stuff’s good for kids,” he said, “toughens them up, an accident, holy shit, maybe your kid shouldn’t be a sissy, it’s just playground stuff.” He laughed, not knowing what funny actually was.

  “He kicked him in the face! It’s not an accident when you look at someone and then kick them; that’s not a mistake, that’s intentional and mental, and that makes your son a brat, that makes him mean, and that makes you the person to fix that. Okay, so, again, tell me now; how was that an accident? I don’t think you know what that word means. If that was an accident, what would it be if I broke your effing nose? And, yes, I know perfectly well I swore earlier, but that was an accident. I can accept actual accidents.” The lines had been drawn and I knew where I stood, and that had almost calmed me to where I needed to be.

  “I’d like to see you try,” he said as though I was already walking away. He laughed. He was brave again now that my persistence had dwindled. Too much time had passed. I had spoken too much and in turn appeared calm again. The first initial explosion had come and gone, but that didn’t mean the fire was out. His laugh ended and everything became images I was given quick glimpses of as though jumping past them – pain ran up my arm in a burst like my shoulder had said come get me. He was retreating, not only from me, but from being vertical. He exploded away from me in a spasm; his arms twisting to catch up as the rest of his body was seized by the direction to come. When everything had resumed its natural flow, he was crumpled awkwardly to one knee with his other leg out to the side and pressing a hand to his bleeding face. I had hit him and only now realized it. It was odd and silent and I didn’t know if I should have been stepping toward him or away. Was it worth it? I thought in fragments between the glimpses I was catching of him and those around us.

  Guilt had replaced satisfaction much quicker than I would have liked, but, I knew, had it been a conscious decision, it would never have come at all. I had broken anger open at the seams and released pandemonium. “Was it worth it?” I whispered to myself and the noise that was trying to consume me. It wasn’t something I should have done on a playground. All I could do was hope that everyone present, children and adults, knew why we were fighting. Many had either left or quarantined their children to a different area, far enough away from us, the idiots. I had to believe that there would be some Q-and-A for a lot of them. Maybe I’d have to have one with a lawyer.

  I looked at his kid; he was on the verge of crying, but looke
d too afraid. I tried to spear my awful feeling with the optimistic thought that a lesson may have been learned. “I’m sorry your dad’s… not better than he is, try to become more than him,” I said on the verge of begging, and walked away, steering Ding Ding, who too was staring in shock with tearful eyes, as the man sniffled blood and hurled profanities towards the clouds from his knees.

  “It’s okay big guy, no, he didn’t hurt you. You were scared, I know, but you’re okay now. Yes, I hurt him. Sometimes people are going to surprise you with how stupid they are, and it’s going to scare you, and better they get hurt than you, maybe.” Katie was silent. She was carrying Knuckle Butt. He had pretty much missed everything, which was just part of being as young as he was.

  “A BUG!” he yelled, pointing at the air. I hoped to remember that so we could laugh about it later. It was the one beautiful moment I could pin my heart to.

  "I would love for people to see arguments as an opportunity for values and beliefs, and not just a showcase for their anger and ignorance,” Katie said behind me, and I felt the words sharp against my back.

  “Katie, that's bloody brilliant.” I said over my shoulder, “I should write that down… or you should write that down; as long was one of us writes that down I'm good... balls, why didn't you say that a minute ago?"

  I slowed my pace to let Katie catch up. “I know, I know,” I said in a tone I hoped suggested apology, “but you have to understand… the lineage.”

  “The lineage,” she repeated mockingly.

  “Yes, love, the lineage. I come from a line of men, or as some call it, a lineage, and they, we, believe that violence is certainly wrong, however,” I proclaimed, “an ignorant person is believed to be even worse, and so on occasion there may come a time henceforth when I have to sock the ugly face of the sworn enemy; the moronic, egotistical, sometimes fat, ignoramus.” I nodded my head affirmatively.

  “Sometimes fat,” she repeated in a tone I felt should have been reserved for enemies and people whose weight fluctuated significantly.

  “No,” I admitted, “I was just seeing if you were listening. Appearances are of hardly any consequence in such run-ins. It’s usually there in their eyes: that deep, empty look of no return. Say what you will, it will not be heard no matter the reason you unfurl.”

  “Where does even half of what you say come from?” she pressed. “One minute, you don’t say a thing; the next, it’s like you could go on forever.” She shook her head and laughed a laugh purposely cut short.

  “What?” I asked innocently, so very thankful she had actually laughed, and already, she had laughed already. It didn’t fix anything that had happened, but it meant she and I were okay, and that made me feel like dancing. “I was just trying to get back to cool word usage, you know, unfurl my lineage, and stuff,” I was emphasizing the words like I was about to disappear into a deep sulk, as if hurt by the fact she didn’t understand.

  “You can unfurl your lineage alone tonight,” she said, undaunted by my antics.

  “Fine, but I’m pretty sure you turning me down counts as foreplay,” I said trying very hard not to smile.

  She shook her head, “Okay, fine, but you not making any sense undoes that foreplay. Love, you really couldn’t have just looked the other way?” I had to have known she’d return there… at some point. I just expected her to give it more thought, certainly enough for us to have gotten more than a mere thirty steps away from it.

  “I did look the other way! Twice! And there he was, still stupid. Katie, it was an accident! Two accidents in a row! What are the odds? That’s a dangerous park.” She made a noise, involving her lips and air; I knew it well, it was code for ‘bullshit.’ I decided to try a different tactic. “Him and I, we had a moment, and I reached out to touch his face but my stupid fist got in the way, and, well, then his face got a little punched.” She made a face that showed her disgust, and maybe disbelief. “I know, I know, I was almost about to let it go,” I said, trying to getting closer to something truthful, something we could agree on, “I just… it suddenly made too much sense not to let it go. I don’t know, maybe nothing made sense when I hit him, maybe that’s what happened. I’m really sorry. But it’s hard for me to walk away, you know that. If I walk away I’ll just blame someone else somewhere else for so much more.” My heart sank at the remembrance of the look on his son’s face. I didn’t even let myself imagine how I would have felt had it been the other way around, but mostly because I knew I would have done the right thing to begin with – or so I tried convincing myself.

  “What are you teaching our kids? That it’s okay to hit people like that? That was just awful,” she said with tears suddenly in her eyes.

  “It’s not about bullying people; it’s about pointing out their stupidity.”

  “Yeah, I know, pointing it out with your fists!”

  “That guy’s ego would never have let him take any responsibility… so I put a dent in it, and left him and his ego to try to hammer it out. Some egos don’t hear anything.” She looked at me suspiciously and said something, but I wasn’t listening. “Who knows, that guy’s son may have learned something. You can’t tell me he won’t soon forget it, and he watched me try to reason with his dad. I tried, but there just was no reasoning with that… stupidity. It’s something obviously even I have. Hell, we all have it. Doesn’t mean everyone is stupid. I may call the odd person stupid out of anger, but we’ve all some degree of stupidity in us. The challenge is in how we choose to let it out. From now on, maybe that guy will be a little less obvious about how dumb he is.” I looked at her desperately. She nodded and smiled in agreement through her tears.

  “I know,” she said softly, “it’s just… I hate that. It makes me want to be sick, and, I don’t know, I just, I can’t help but panic.”

  “Oh, love, I know, I know that, and that’s how it should make you feel, it’s not something anyone should be comfortable with. I just… we will teach our boys that violence is horrible but that there are sometimes going to be things that are actually even worse. We have to teach them when to make that call. And we will teach them to stick up for others. That’s what that was about,” I motioned to the park that was now a couple streets behind us.

  She looked at me like I should have known better.

  I couldn’t throw my hands in the air since I was still carrying Ding Ding, so I raised my shoulders instead, “You teach them how to run and if running doesn’t save them, as a backup, you can teach them how to talk to doctors.”

  Chapter 29 … like totally WTF

  My cell phone rang, it was Katie. “Hello,” I sang.

  “Hi,” she said, sounding slightly awkward. “Remember when you said we traded luck for love; you still love me right?”

  “For the most part, why?”

  “Oh good,” she sounded like herself again. “Because you have mono. Your doctor just called, he was looking at your test results right while I was talking to him.”

  “How do I have mono?” I asked, thinking she had to be joking, “And what is mono, and how do I have mono?”

  “Um, how would I know? I’m just telling you what he told me. You have an appointment for tomorrow morning. I guess he’ll explain everything you need to know then. I don’t know what that means for work, but I assume you might be off for a little while or something.”

  I was still back where I had stalled in my initial reaction of complete disbelief. “So… I got mono from thin air, thin, contagious air?” I added, “That’s bullshit,” as if the words were actually one word but had just never been said fast enough until I had finally done it. “Seriously?” I still didn’t believe her. “Aren’t I too old or something, I don’t know, but something, something has to make it not true. Is there anything else it might be, or could they have mistaken that for something else, maybe?”

  “Um,” Katie answered quite shy of helpful, “I really don’t know, you’ll just have to go and see him tomorrow and ask him these things. I love you though.”


  “That’s… I don’t even know, well, yeah, okay… thanks, I guess. I love you, I’ll be home shortly.”

  I raised the bag of milk I had just taken out of the grocery store fridge above my head as though I were about to throw it. A woman stared at me with wide eyes, so I lowered it almost to my head and raised it again, which I then did a few more times like I was exercising. I finally let it down to bounce cold against my leg as I walked toward the checkout. I tried to take a deep breath but it was overcome by a yawn. I shook my head and thought, SOMUCHBULLSHIT.

  Chapter 30 … Mono A Mono … In The Doctor’s Office

  Oh, hi, yes, you’re the doctor, I’m the patient. Pleasant, pleasant, lovely, lovely, and alright, the file is out, the reading glasses are on, and we are digging in. Family is good, you don’t say… or did you say, you may have to speak up: everything you’re saying has to make it through this buzz of disbelief in my head, and inside that buzz my inner dialogue will likely be making fun of the both of us, SO BE SURE TO TRY AND TALK OVER ALL OF THAT.

  Mono-nuke-lee-osis, or whatever you said back there, check. Got it. Basically a blood infection, okay, I got that part. Nodding now so you know I got that. Nice, it’s often referred to as the ‘kissing disease.’ Okay, funny… to you. I don’t know; I kind of think throwing disease on the end of something really stomps the funny out of it for me. Spread through saliva. Well, oh, I get it, the kissing, mouth, and I’ve been kissing no one but my wife so… wait, wait, I’ve fallen behind. I will get a rash, all over. Well, that’s just stupid. There’s a really good chance, maybe eighty percent, that I will develop strep throat as well, you’ll give me a prescription for that in case I need it. Sure, yeah. Fatigue, yeah, you’re practically painting the room with that word. I heard some of all of this loud and clear. Glandular swelling, I can stand up. Yeah, I am packing a golf ball in the side of my neck there, now there’s some pressure on it, yeah, no, it’s still out, you maybe want to maybe push harder, pop it back in, holy F, I’m sitting. I don’t care, point from there. I’m not even listening now. I think you ruptured my gland.