Joe was obsessed with
the possibility that he had been a lousy dad.
The present didn’t concern
him as much because when your sons are in their thirties fatherhood is more of
a spectator sport.
But the past. The past
drove him crazy with worry.
He irritated his wife endlessly,
looking for validation that he had been a loving father. “Was I a good dad? I
mean, was I attentive? Sensitive? Did I take out my frustrations on them?”
The last question was
the one he worried about most. Joe’s entire life had been consumed by lousy
jobs that left him screaming for release. Jobs that suffocated his spirit and
forced him to drink.
Booze was the first
thing he reached for when he got home just so he wouldn’t smash his head
against the wall and scream at his family. He didn’t have a choice, really.
Employment forced his hand. Raging nerves were dangerous untreated; alcohol
brought a measure of peace.
Until of course he had
consumed more than was required.
His wife was
consistently reassuring in her responses, but the dead brain cells in his head
left vacancies where memories should have been.
He wasn’t quite sure if
she was being truthful or considerate.
Joe’s gut told him that
he had been a good dad but he couldn’t help wondering if there were alcohol
fueled rages that left scars on his sons’ souls.
There were holes in the
cheap bathroom door that stood in bold suggestion of just such a possibility.
Joe’s wife was a
sweetheart. At least she appeared to be.
She put up with a lot. Like
his drinking and insecurities and his stubborn commitment to underachieving,
which reduced their life together to subsistence levels.
They could have done
better. Lived easier.
But Joe was mired in
self-doubt, success eluded him and pizza was a big night out.
Still his wife handled
it all calmly, with her innate ability to smooth out the rough edges. At least
she appeared to. There were tensions and hints of impatience, maybe some
frustrations, but generally she maintained an even keel.
She had created a
garden in the front yard that was a triumph and a source of peace for both of
them.
A pool stood in this
spot for many years. An above ground pool plenty big enough for the four of
them to play, laugh and relax in. A pool that left behind great memories.
When the kids moved out
the pool stood silent and eventually Joe’s wife was inspired to take it down
and replace it with paradise.
They spent a lot of
peaceful moments out there listening to the fountain, the breeze, the birds and
each other.
Father’s Day was tough
on Joe recently. His kids’ schedules were hard to coordinate and he had spent a
few Father’s Days without them.
Those were the days his
imagination tortured him the most.
This year was the
roughest because he had to work. He worked for a state run liquor store and it
was open seven days a week.
Joe was old school and
despised working on Sundays. He could remember when barely anything was open on
Sundays and people seemed to survive.
Still the kids were not
going to be around so Joe volunteered to work, allowing another father to be celebrated.
He made it through the
day as best he could, dealing with all the insensitive idiots who said
repeatedly “I can’t believe you are open today.” He would look at them
incredulously. He wanted to scream “I wouldn’t be here at all if you were intelligent
enough to plan ahead.”
He held his tongue and
bought a couple of nips to sooth him on the ride home.
When he walked onto the
screened-in porch, his wife kissed him hello and gave him a look. She tasted
the whiskey on his lips, which always pissed her off.
He brushed past her into
the house, poured himself a tumbler of whiskey and invited her to join him in
the garden.
Before going back out
he asked “Honey, do you think I was a good dad? Do you think the kids are
thinking about me today?”
She smiled. She told
him he had been and still was a great dad.
It was a gorgeous day.
Brilliant sunshine, beginning to fade, but plenty warm with not too many bugs.
The fountain was
gurgling, the birds were singing, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves as Joe
rationalized that his life was not really so bad.
He felt at peace.
He heard his wife
approaching with a tray full of munchies. She said “Happy Father’s Day, honey”
and Joe began to turn to say “Thank you,” but the words never left his lips.
She pulled the trigger
quickly, killing his response and then gently returned the gun to its spot next
to the cheese and crackers.
She sat next to Joe and
ate enthusiastically, marveling at the soothing effect of the fountain.
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