flashquake - Spring 2002 - Editor's Picks - Father and Son by Wayne Scheer

Editor's Pick — Dave Lignell

flashquake
Father and Son
by Wayne Scheer

"Father and Son has wonderful detail, which gives the story a sense of place and character early on. The relationship between the characters builds without becoming maudlin. I loved the ending parallel between Easter and a father's renewed love for his son."

The wife always gets a little down holiday time, you know since Billy got sick and all. It was two Easters ago when he had that fever and they said it affected his brain and that he'd never be the same.

So when Sally says to me I should take Billy for the day, I say, "Fine, no problem. But what do I do with him?" I ask. She says, "Go do the father-son stuff you used to do. Give me the day to myself."

graphic montage including zebras, bowling pins, a trophy, labelled Father and Son by Wayne Scheer

And she deserves some free time. I mean, since Billy got out of the hospital she's been a real trooper. She quit her full-time job at Haynes Hardware and took a job working as an aid at the school Billy goes to, so she could learn more about his condition. It's been rough on both of us, you know. Even with the tuition reduction we get at the school, it's expensive what with his medication and all. So I've been working extra shifts at the plant whenever I can and doing plumbing jobs nights and weekends. Sally's really with the boy twenty-four/seven and it gets to her sometimes.

Before all this happened we were like a family out of a TV sitcom. I mean neither of us worked weekends and we always did stuff together, like go to the zoo and then to Pizza Hut. That was Billy's favorite thing to do, and to tell you the truth, it was my favorite thing, too. Billy and me always got a kick out of watching the monkeys jump around and swing from the trees and pick insects or whatever off each other. Then we'd get a pepperoni pizza and me and Billy would make monkey noises and Sally would act all embarrassed, and say, "Oh no. Two monkeys escaped from the zoo," and Billy would giggle and say, "Look, Momma, it's really me!" and we'd all laugh.

We haven't been to the zoo since.

So I think maybe that's where I'll take Billy, but then I think about how hard it would be to walk around with him and how I'd feel when we look at the monkeys and he just stares with that stupid look on his face like he's never seen them before. I mean I don't want to sound cruel, but he's six now and all he does is stare and make funny sounds and drool and, if you're not watching, he'll just wander off. The doctors say he lives in his own world and he can't communicate other than for his most basic needs. And even then he craps in his pants if we don't remember to sit him on the pot. So taking him to some public place like the zoo isn't a good idea.

Besides, I hate the way people stare at him. And then they look at me like it's my fault or something.

Then I remember when Billy was little and Sally wanted us out of her hair, I'd take him bowling. He'd get a kick out of watching me, thinking I was strong like Superman since he couldn't even lift the ball. I'd drink beer and I'd let him put some of the foam on his lips to taste it. And we'd make a secret man-to-man promise not to tell Momma. Then we'd go to our favorite Pizza Hut and make monkey noises and sometimes people at other tables would join in.

So I decide to go to the alley on Bolton Road. I know it's on the other side of town but it's a nice place, newer than The Golden Triangle, and, besides, I figure I probably wouldn't run into anyone I know.

When we get there, Billy has this weird look on his face; I guess it's the noise or something. I almost take him home, but instead I put my arm on his shoulder to steady him. I get a lane on the far end of the place and I take Billy's hand as I look for a sixteen-pound ball that fits the broken knuckle on my right thumb. Finding a ball that fits good is always a problem and I tell Billy the story of how I broke the thumb trying to break up a fight in a bar, as if he understands me. Anyway, it must have taken me ten minutes before I find a ball, and all that time Billy just stays close to me staring at my hands and then at his hands. It's weird, but kinda nice.

Anyway, when I start bowling Billy gets this crazy smile on his face. It's hard to know if he's smiling at me or at something in his head, but he just keeps smiling. Then I order myself a beer and him a coke and he dips his finger in my beer and smears the foam on his lips and I hold him and I shout, "Billy! You remember! You remember!" but when I look at his face again, I see the smile is gone and he's back in his world.

After that, I take him to Pizza Hut and I keep making monkey noises at him and he just stares. The people in the restaurant keep looking at us, but I don't care. He's my boy and it's Easter time and I feel like something inside both of us just got renewed.