by Sergio Gomez
As Jack ran to the car, Jenna came up with the luggage. Scott took the bags from her and put them on the porch behind him.
“Zombie game, huh?” Scott said to Jenna.
“He wouldn’t look away from it the whole car ride here. Not until we got to the turn off the highway.”
There was a hint of envy in her voice that Scott recognized right away because he’d lived with her for four years. One learned a lot about a person after living with them for years, mostly ugly things that were kept under wraps until you shared a space with them.
“How’s the house?” Jenna asked, looking up and down the street, taking in the space where her son would be spending his Fall break.
“It’s great, Jenna. Quiet, and the neighbors are friendly as can be.”
“It’s not too quiet, is it?”
“You’re worried he’ll get bored here?”
She nodded. “He’s thirteen. He gets bored easily now.”
“There’s a kid across the street that’s around his age. I’ll introduce them later today and I’m sure he’ll find something to do. Besides, he has his zombie game.”
“Don’t let him play it too much. I only let him play it for half an hour a day.”
“You just said he played it the whole car ride here.” He tried to keep the edge out of his voice, but it wasn’t always easy with her. Especially when she was pulling these sorts of stunts.
“That’s different,” she said, her voice icy. “It wasn’t exactly my choice to come all the way out here to the middle of absolutely nowhere, especially now, with my mother in the hospital.”
He bit his tongue, as much as he wanted to argue, because he knew how worried Jenna was over her mother’s hospitalization. He saw Jack trudging toward them, slower than he’d come up the driveway before because his focus was on the Gameboy now, and he knew it wasn’t the time for another argument, anyway. Scott decided to drop the subject.
“Come on, Jack. Turn that game off,” Jenna insisted.
“I just gotta get to the save point and then I’ll shut it off, I promise.”
Scott met Jenna’s eyes. There was an angry fire in them, but this was a battle she was used to losing to Jack.
Jack sat down on the porch, with the game screen facing Scott, and he couldn’t help but look. There were zombies, indeed. And blood. Lots of blood, from what he could see.
Yikes.
Suddenly, he was glad his Ash tattoo sleeve was covered up by the sweatshirt he wore. His homage to the Evil Dead wasn’t going to help anything here.
“Well, I better get going,” Jenna told him, “it’s a long car ride back.”
“Yeah, it is. You want to use the bathroom or want a bottle of water for the road back or anything?”
She shook her head. “No thanks.”
“Come on, you don’t have to be like this. There isn’t a trap waiting for you in my house, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He smirked, but she wasn’t amused in the slightest.
“Don’t do this in front of Jack,” she scolded.
That tone of voice had worked on him for so long that the instinct to cave in to her would never go away. Though, in this instance, folding was the right option.
“Right, well, don’t say I’ve never opened up my house to you.” Scott wanted to twist the dagger one last time.
“Thanks, I really appreciate that Scott,” Jenna took a step backward, “but I really should get going.”
She rubbed Jack’s head to get his attention.
“You’re leaving already?” Jack said.
“Yep, Mom has lots of stuff to do back home before her flight.”
“Alright,” Jack said, pausing the game and putting it aside. He got up to hug her and kiss her on the cheek.
“I’ll call you when I get home,” Jenna told him, “you be good, okay?”
“I will. Um. Say hi to Grandma for me.”
“Okay, sweetie. See you later Scott,” Jenna said, and started walking away.
“Drive safely. And tell Juliana I said to get well soon.” he wasn’t sure how much conviction there was in his voice. Part of their divorce (he believed, anyway) was because of his ex-mother-in-law whispering in Jenna’s ear.
“I will.” She replied curtly, then to Jack said, “Make sure you brush your teeth every night, Jack, and get the back ones, too.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Jack said again, rolling his eyes.
Scott watched Jenna get into the car, fire it up, and then pull out of the driveway onto the main road. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that Jack was watching as well. Jenna waved to him, and he waved back.
When the red van was out of sight, he sat down next to Jack on the steps. He put his arm around his son’s shoulders.
“You excited for your first visit to Dutch County?”
“Yeah,” Jack said, smiling. “Of course I am. I get to hang out with you.”
“Good, ’cause I have a fun week planned for us.”
“Can’t wait.”
“Unfortunately,” Scott gave him a tight squeeze, then rose up, “we have to kick it off by unpacking your bags.”
Jack laughed. “Great.”
“Come on, I’ll show you your bedroom. It’s awesome.”
Jack grabbed his game and jumped up to his feet.
As they walked up the porch steps, Jack couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder at the road in front of his dad’s house. A part of him was hoping that Mom’s van would be pulling back into the driveway as he looked. That she would get out, ask Dad to use his phone and she’d call Grandma. Grandma would tell them she was okay and out of the hospital. Then Mom would ask Dad to stay the week with them.
By Thanksgiving, his parents would love each other again and everything would be how it was back before the Big Fight that caused the divorce.
Before Jack felt like a ball in a ping-pong game bouncing between two lives. Never set in one place, always moving between the two.
But it was somehow different this time. At least when Dad lived in Philadelphia, he knew Mom was only a few minutes away.
Now she was miles away. A whole world away, really, because this place Dad moved to was nothing like where Mom lived.
A ping-pong ball, not just bouncing between two lives, but between two worlds now.
Once he was sure his fantasy of Mom turning around to join them wasn’t going to happen, he turned back around and followed his dad inside.
Chapter 14
When he awoke, everything was much worse.
Outside the sun was beginning to settle, and the golden light that had been pouring in through his window was replaced by an iridescent purple glow. Raymond got up and closed the blind.
He turned back to the now darkened living room. The hole in his heart made him realize how mismatched everything in his house was. The quilt he’d been using, rolled up and tossed onto the arm of the recliner, was cream colored and striped. The loveseat was navy blue, with stains that had been there when he bought it from the secondhand store. The recliner was a pallid green, with a patch covering a big rip on the side of it that was more off-color than he realized before.
Everything in this house was ugly.
The wallpaper—peeling and curling on the edges—was old and stained. It’d been there since his parents had owned the place, a flowery pattern that had been popular in their era but now gave off the impression that the entire house was out-of-date.
That was true, and he’d been meaning to change the wallpaper, but he’d also been meaning to do a lot of things. Somehow, he’d ended up here in his parent’s home, in the middle of a living room that looked like the furniture section at a thrift store.
Shucks, the damn table the TV was on wasn’t even balanced right. He watched his game shows on an angle every night.
He’d ended up here, alone with no woman. No children or grandchildren. His last friend gone from this world without even a chance for them to say goodbye to one another.
His eye
caught the gift box from Rosa sitting on the coffee table. He’d discarded it to the side when he came inside the house. In his dazed grief he’d forgotten about it until now.
Let’s see what’s inside, he told himself.
Raymond crossed the living room and picked the box up. Whatever was inside wasn’t very heavy. He took the box into his workstation and shut the door behind him.
Flicking the desk lamp on, he put the gift box underneath it and took the lid off. There was a note inside, balanced on top of whatever the actual gift was underneath. He plucked it out and unfolded the piece of paper.
It was from Ernesto, of course.
Greetings, friend.
If you’re reading this, that means I’m long gone from this world and Rosa followed my instructions. I hope you’re not too sad about my passing, because you shouldn’t be. I lived a good life.
Anyway, I have a confession to make, and unless you come chasing me in the afterlife, you can’t do anything about it. I knew I’ve been having heart problems for about a year now and knew I was on borrowed time. I didn’t spill the beans on this because I didn’t want you to go easy on me in rummy.
I remember you told me that you hate to read, so I’m trying to keep this short. Thanks for everything, Raymond. Thanks for helping keep my old body’s competitive soul alive in the last days of my life. I valued our friendship more than I could ever explain through words, which is why I left this gift to you.
I think you’ll remember it. You used to hate hearing about it after all. Ha-ha!
Your good friend,
Ernesto Fernando Gonzalez
Raymond wiped at his eyes, then folded the piece of paper and put it to the side.
Inside the box was a black watch. Raymond picked it up, not sure why his friend had gifted him this. It was made of plastic that was cheap to the touch, and lighter than any watch he’d ever handled.
He looked at the face of the clock, decorated with a bright green iguana.
Raymond laughed. It was the watch from Ernesto’s childhood—or at least a watch that looked like it—that his friend had always talked about.
Ernesto had always complained about how it didn’t fit his wrist anymore, but he wished it did because he would have been wearing it every day of his life.
Raymond had stopped listening to him after the fifteenth time he told the story about how much he loved it and how much it meant to him, and now here it was. The clock hands sprouting out from the iguana’s back ticking away right in his face.
One last practical joke from Ernesto, one last time to bring this watch up even from beyond the grave.
It was too funny.
Raymond threw his head back and laughed, knowing damn well that if any of his neighbors happened to see him through the window (they wouldn’t, the workshop room windows faced the backwoods of his house) they would think he was off his rocker.
Once he stopped laughing, he wiped the tears from his eyes. There was humor mixed with the sadness now. His friend had made sure he wouldn’t be forgotten, and that Raymond would have something to remember him by in his loneliness.
He stared down at the watch. It was practically a toy meant for a child’s wrist. Something you might get in a Happy Meal.
The gears in his mind turned.
Just because his friend was gone, didn’t mean he had to be lonely. No. In fact, there was still plenty for him to live for. All he had to do was look around this room to be reminded of that.
Raymond put the watch down to take a moment to admire the creations in the workshop.
There was the Holiday wall, shelves of his previous toys from past years. Wind-up turkeys that danced, Pilgrim and American Indian dolls, various Santa Clauses made of porcelain and wood—some riding sleds with reindeer, others carrying sacks on their backs, some that did a little jig when a button was pressed. There were snow globes with bright gingerbread houses inside of them and big candy canes decorating the front lawns. There were glass Jack-O-Lanterns with bulbs that had long been burned out, but replacing them would make them glow again. There were trees made of solid metal, rusty with age—like nature was changing the color of the leaves on them.
On the other shelves, and strewn about the workshop, were his miscellaneous creations. Toy cars, some shaped to look like racecars, others to look like commercial family cars. There were ping-pong paddles made of wood, stuffed clowns with porcelain heads, jack-in-the-boxes with snakes and jesters and other spring-loaded things he couldn’t remember inside of them. There was a ship in a bottle, various miniature string instruments, wind-up dinosaurs and crabs, toy soldiers, plastic spiders, rubber bugs, butterflies made of cloth, a jewelry box in the shape of a blue whale.
Hanging on a hook over his desk was a puppet wearing a top hat. He was supposed to be the mayor of a set of townspeople marionettes he’d been working on a while ago, but the ideas bounced into his head faster than he could ever complete any sets he started, so all he had was Mayor Humphrey.
This next project was even more ambitious than that, but something inside of him told him that he wouldn’t lose focus this time.
Raymond got up out of his chair, feeling like a marionette himself, the strings being pulled by the muse of creativity.
What he was about to attempt to build wouldn’t just be a toy, though. No, just as Buddy’s puppets had a life of their own, so would his.
Raymond wasn’t about to create something, so much as he was going to bring a new life into this world with nothing but his tools and hands.
Even though he might’ve had everything he needed in his workshop, a voice in his head told him he needed to get out and get all new stuff for this one. Start it with all new materials and tools—supplies that were pure, so to speak.
Raymond rushed out of the workshop. At the front door he stopped to grab his coat and hat—remembering the weatherman had said it would be chilly, but not Fall chilly—and went through the front door as a man on a mission.
Chapter 15
Maria came home from the diner with supper for them. A steak and potato platter for Scott, chicken fingers and fries for Jack, and a giant waffle with extra whipped cream for herself.
“Nice dinner option,” Scott said, flipping the lid on the Styrofoam container.
“Mind your own business,” Maria said, taking her giant waffle and putting it on the kitchen table where she was going to sit. “That one’s yours.”
Scott opened it, inhaling the smell of the steak. “Mmm, delicious.”
“It’s one of the most popular things on our menu, so I’m betting it’ll taste as good as it smells.”
Jack was in between them, looking at the containers. “Is that one mine?”
“Yeah,” Maria said, handing it over to him. “Hope you like it.”
He grabbed it and then sat down with it at the table. He opened it, and the steam hitting his face made him flinch a little. “Smells good.”
Scott took his seat across from where Maria was going to be sitting and noticed Jack was frowning. “What’s wrong, bud?”
Jack shook his head. “I want to eat the chicken fingers, but—”
“But what?”
“Mom doesn’t let me eat meat.”
“What the hell?” Scott nearly dropped his fork. “Since when?”
“Like a month ago when she started doing yoga with her friend Leslie.”
“And she put you on this crap diet, too?”
Jack stirred in his seat. He hadn’t meant to start an argument. He could tell his dad was angry at Mom. It was the same look he had in his eyes before they’d go into their room and yell at each other, back when they were still a family.
“I mean, she sometimes gives me money and I buy meatball subs with it after school—”
“Jack, did she specifically tell you not to eat meat?”
Maria reached across the table and put her hand on Scott’s forearm. “Scott, come on.”
Her gesture did nothing to calm him. “No, I want t
o hear this.”
“Yes,” Jack answered reluctantly. His eyes dropped down to the table. “She said it’ll be good for me to not eat meat.”
“Well, when you’re in my house, you can eat whatever you want. You can tell your mom I said that, too.”
Jack nodded.
“Good. Now let’s eat up,” he said to both of them.
Jack nodded again, and without moving his eyes away from the table he reached out and grabbed a chicken finger. He took a bite out of it. It tasted incredible—more incredible than he could have ever imagined a chicken finger could taste.
They ate in silence for a few minutes. The sound of Scott working the knife through the steak, grinding against the Styrofoam, was the loudest sound in the room until Maria spoke up.
“How’re your dinners?” She always felt like some sort of daredevil when she attempted to speak after awkward moments between Scott and his son. The wrong thing could not only make her look bad in Scott’s eyes, but in Jack’s, too.
“Delicious,” was Scott’s enthusiastic answer. “Thanks for bringing us dinner, honey. How’s yours, Jack?”
He finally looked up to meet his dad’s gaze. Yep, still angry. “Good.”
“What do you say to Maria?”
“Thank you for dinner, Maria.”
She could tell he meant it, but also that he felt forced into saying it. “You’re very welcome, Jack.”
They continued to eat in silence until they were finished. Scott collected their containers, peeking into Jack’s as he took them to the trashcan. Much to his displeasure, Jack had only eaten two of his chicken fingers.
After slamming the trashcan closed, he said, “I’ll be upstairs.”
He stormed out of the kitchen, leaving Maria and Jack at the table listening to his footfall as he went to the second floor.
“He’s still mad at me, isn’t he?” Jack asked.
Maria pushed her chair back and got up. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m going to go talk to him. You stay put, okay, Jack?”
Jack nodded. “Okay.”
He looked miserable, but Maria didn’t have the words to make it better for him.
