Monthly Archive

This one’s for me.  I think this will be the last on the child theme, perhaps we’ll hear what Jack has to say about war next.  We’ll see . . .

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Looking up from his laptop, Dave gazes out the expansive windows behind him.  His glance drifts along, stuck in the autumn winds like the leaves so far below; first up the street, then back among the taxis and bikes and people, then floating up the glass-and-concrete walls of the skyscraper across.  Just as his line of sight becomes even with the floor, his attention drops swiftly back down to the street, looking around and around but not landing upon anything in particular.  His vision settles momentarily on the leeward side of a storefront where a woman is seeking some respite, fixing her dress and hair and hat.  It was a futile effort, for as she steps back out the wind picks up again, carrying her hat and Dave’s eyes far up the road.  Dave does not see her consternation – he really had never seen her at all – his eyes are only wandering at their own leisure while his thoughts, equally disordered, are tumbling behind them, churning among the things he cannot change.

He has been working on this same proposal for hours.  It is a fairly uncomplicated piece, one which would usually take him 30 minutes, tops.  Dave is behind, though, far behind.  He probably will not get this bid, not after turning it in a day late, nor will he receive particularly good reviews on any of the projects he has finished in the past week.  At this rate he will be lucky if he still has a job at the end of the month, but he is finding it particularly difficult to care.  The tumbling and churning continues, as it has for months, and has displayed no indication of stopping any time soon.

His eyes stop moving and focus.  A woman is struggling down the street, a blanketed babe in her arms.  For a moment her brown hair shines golden, her deeply tanned skin creamy, at least to Dave.  He holds his breath as she approaches his building, afraid to make his dream shatter.  The woman walks on, her hair and skin darkening, and Dave, sighing, turns back to his labor.

Well, almost.  Instead of trying to hammer out a few more lines, the last that he needs to be finished with this particular overdue copy before moving on to the next, he opens his email just In case he missed the bell notifying him of new mail, he checks his phone because maybe he left it on vibrate by accident, and then he gets up and heads for the roof.

At the elevator he pushes the appropriate button then checks the display.  The elevator is on the ninth floor, coming down to get him.  The display stops at six, but Dave keeps counting down as the doors open in front of him.  He makes it to zero as the doors close and the lift rises to meet a more attentive patron.  Dave does not count forward with the display, he doesn’t do anything: he is stuck on zero and has been for months.

“Hey Dave, you alright?”  Startled out of his reverie, Dave looks at Jeff approaching from down the hall.  He has his usual black Starbucks coffee mug in his left hand and is licking from the fingers of his right the crumbs and sugar of a just-finished doughnut.  He walks up to stand next to Dave, drying his hand on his slacks.  “You don’t look like you’re getting much sleep.  Still no word?”

“No, nothing at all.  I’d really just like to know something, anything.  I can manage whatever comes of all this, but the waiting is killing me.”

“Hmm, that sucks man, you going up for a cigarette?”

“Yeah, figured I might as well, I can’t focus anyway.” 

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.”  Jeff reaches out and punches the up button, then steps back and stands quietly by his friend as they wait for the elevator to come back down from the 15^th floor.  Jeff’s face shows his worry plainly: he does not bother trying to mask it since his friend will not notice anyway.  It is not only Dave’s work that is vitiated by the uncertainty in his life; his eyes are dark in sleeplessness, his cheeks gaunt in hunger.  His car rarely strays from the path between work and home, he simply does not have the motivation to go anywhere or do anything else.

A bell dings and the elevator doors slide open.  Jeff makes a point to accidentally bump Dave while stepping forward, shaking him enough to get him to follow zombielike.  As the elevator begins to raise, Dave’s gloom clouds the air of the small place, weighing heavily enough to snuff Jeff’s spirits.  The two remain silent for the fourteen-floor trip, the silence broken only by the standard instrumental music piping from the speakers.

The rooftop is filled with hunchbacks, ardent smokers curling in on themselves trying to keep warm in the chill wind, tucking their heads between their shoulders and standing in tight circles.  Jeff stops at one such group, hijacking a light from another’s cigarette rather than wrestle with his Bic.  Dave continues past to stand at the edge, cigarette forgotten between his lips.  There was a time when he would have stood here thinking of the long fall down, but now he cannot imagine falling any lower. 

 

Natancy.  Merriam and Webster do not recognize this word, but they should.  Natancy is an ability Dave has learned.  Well, not so much learned as forced to cope with.  A log is natant, it has natural natancy.  A duck has natancy, a rock does not.  Dave lies natant in a bog of despair, a bog that refuses to let him loose, a bog that refuses to let him drown.  To the Romans, natare had a somewhat positive connotation: “Keep on swimming,” just like Dory.  Dave does not want to float, suspended in pain, painfully kept in suspense.  Shakespeare made up words, Dave can too.  Shakespeare was a joke anyway; at least Dave can spell his own name the same way twice.  No wonder the poet is attributed so many neologisms.

Dave is at his second home, drinking coffee to easy listening and acoustic artists.  In the old days it would have been beer, but AA cured him by teaching him to smoke and drink coffee.  Dave’s hacking out another story, a sad story about a sad man.  Dave’s paid writing is suffering, but with his own pieces he has been quite prolific.  The problem is that all of his stories have had sad endings.  He also has a problem with the red squiggly under natancy.  Screw it, it stays.

Dave looks up to see an old man looking at him.  Bright eyes in a rugose face, dressed in a button-down shirt.  The gaze is penetrating, uncomfortable.  “Can I help you old-timer?”

“Nope, just wondering what brings a young man with many years left to such a desperate state.”  The old man says nothing else; he simply stares and waits from his seat at the next table along the window from Dave’s.  Dave looks left and watches the cars queue up behind a red light outside, then clears a space on the small table and gestures for the other man to join him.  The old fellow stands, picks up his coffee, and then steps toward Dave.  With his coffee in his left hand, he holds out his right, “My name is Jack Barton.”

Taking Jack’s hand in his own, Dave replies, “I’m Dave, Dave Phillips.  You’re welcome to join me; I’m just passing time with some writing.  I must admit I’m not very entertaining company, but I guess that happens.”

Taking the seat opposite Dave Jack replies, “The Dave Phillips, your articles are quite interesting, why should meeting you face to face be anything but?”

“You’re familiar with my work?”

“Certainly, I never miss your weekly spot in the Herald.  I can’t say I always agree with what you’re saying, but I never find myself in ennui when reading it.”

“Well thanks, I do try to keep things entertaining, and a good quodlibet never fails to engage readers.”

“Very true, but I would hazard the more interesting discussion lies within the sadness limned upon your face.  What are you going through that has you looking so glum?”

“Well it’s a bit of a story, but the bottom line is my wife is leaving me and I have yet to meet my son who should have been born two months ago.  I’ve not seen any paperwork other than a notice that I am to stay away.  While all of the details are strenuous in their own right, it is the waiting and not knowing what will happen that keeps me up at night.”

Jack took a moment to study the contents of his mug then looked Dave in the eye and replied, “I can see why you are so frustrated in your situation.  There is nothing more precious than a child.  My own son was taken from me many years ago.  He was only 12 and was such a lovely boy.  He shared your name, would be about your age, too.  I know there is not much that you can do right now, but steel yourself friend, make a commitment to do everything you can to be this child’s father.  I saw a bumper sticker just the other day that said something to the effect of, ‘kids need fathers, not visitors.’  Keep that in mind Dave.  Your son has a right to be with you.  He has a right for you to be at his ballgames, to be involved in his education, to be his father.  Do not sacrifice his rights and always, always make an effort to be there for him.  You’ll never regret doing everything you can to spend time with him, but you will regret making concessions that limit that time.”  The two men just looked at each other for a moment, then Jack sat back, holding his mug to his chest.  “So tell me, what are you writing?”

“Just a story; it’s sad right now, but I hope it will be happy later.  It’s about a man, a man a lot like me though his name is Jesse . . .”

 

Combing his hair Dave looks at himself in the mirror.  His forehead is growing rapidly, likely a result of too much worry and not enough sleep.  Giving up, he grabs a cap from the bedroom and his keys from the coffee table, leaving the cigarettes on the kitchen table so he doesn’t smell like smoke the first time he meets his son.  In an effort to keep the combined court fees to a minimum, Susan agreed to allow Dave to visit their son while the decree is being finalized and the court date being scheduled.  Dave received notice from Susan’s lawyer.  The baby’s name is Daniel and he was born as planned three months prior.  Susan will drop Daniel off at the daycare at 9:00 a.m. and go shopping.  Dave gets three hours to meet Daniel there before Susan returns to pick Daniel up. 

The keys jingle excitedly as Dave locks the front door.  It’s darker out than Dave expected, but a quick glance at thick clouds provides explanation.  With everything going through Dave’s mind he does not think to grab a raincoat, and even had he thought of it he is too hurried to bother.  Dave gets in the truck and drives mechanically, not noticing anything along the way through the whirling thoughts in his mind.

Arriving at the daycare, Dave puts the truck in park and looks to the clock.  8:45, it is too early so Dave turns up the radio and kicks back the seat.  He did not sleep at all last night, the anticipation keeping him awake like a child on Christmas Eve.  Ten minutes later Dave sees Susan’s car pull into the lot.  Dave lies still, not wanting to make eye contact with his estranged wife.  He watches, though, as she gently pulls a blanketed baby from the back seat and carries it into the daycare.  Dave resists the urge to race after her, waiting instead for Susan to come back out and leave.

Once Susan is gone, David hops out of the truck and walks purposefully to the doors of the daycare.  Access to the daycare is restricted, so Dave rings the bell and waits.  A young woman – no more than 19 years old – opens the door but stands in the frame expectantly.  “My name is Dave Phillips.  I’m scheduled to meet my son this morning.”

“Oh yes, Ms. Stanton just dropped him off.  Right this way.”  The use of Susan’s maiden name startled Dave for a moment, but he followed the young worker through the lobby and into the designated infant room.  “This is your son here on the left.  You’re welcome to carry him or sit in the rocking chair with him, but you are not to take him outside of this room.  I’ll be right here, let me know if you need anything.”

Dave grunts acknowledgement but takes no further notice of the woman, fixated instead on the most beautiful thing Dave has ever seen in his life.  Swaddled in a fleece blanket and sleeping peacefully, Daniel becomes in an instant the most important thing in Dave’s life, a bright fire blooming suddenly from the depths of the sadness Dave has experienced the past months, burning away all despair and frustration.  Until this moment Daniel was naught but a concept, a distant thing, a story Dave could only picture but not relate with.  But now he is real, Pinocchio brought to life and right here before Dave, a new life of dreams and happiness and promise.  A life Dave had always wanted but never fully comprehended.  A dream come true, but, as Dave picks Daniel up and starts pacing the small room, a dream Dave realizes he will only live part time.  Nonetheless it is a precious dream, and for three hours Dave fluctuates between joy and tears.

At five of noon Dave carefully places Daniel back in the crib, having carried the sleeping babe until Dave’s arm was strained and then some more.  For the last five minutes of his time with his son, Dave does nothing but stand at the edge of the crib looking down upon this beautiful person.  Then, as the long hand joins the short on his Rolex, Dave says silent goodbyes and walks away. 

Dave does not even pause in the lobby, not noticing the deluge outside.  Instead he walks right out and into the parking lot, walking slowly as his t-shirt becomes soaked.  He stands for a long while next to his truck, keys in hand but making no effort to get out of the cold rain.  He stands as the water quenches the just-lit flame, forcing it down from a bonfire to a candle, though a resolute one, a pilot light still giving purpose and direction to a lonely soul.

 

“Daddy, can I PLEASE have an ice cream?  I’m gonna starve to death!” 

Dave chuckles at his son’s antics, fire dancing in his eyes as he tries to match the seriousness of the face peering up at him.  “I don’t know son, if you’re so hungry maybe we should go get home for some casserole and asparagus, what do you say?”

“Eww, I think that is an awful idea dad!  I hate casserole.” 

“Alright, ice cream it is, maybe they have some asparagus ice cream up here, they always delicious flavors at carnivals.”

“Asparagus ice cream?  No way dad, we have to get chocolate.  Chocolate ice cream with sprinkles.”

“OK, chocolate it is, maybe we’ll get asparagus next time.”  Dave chuckled again at Daniel’s scrunched up face then took Daniel’s right hand in his left, his right arm wrapped around a giant Teddy they won together, and turned toward the ice cream stand.  It has been five years since Dave first looked upon his son at the daycare and these visits have become Dave’s primary means of marking time.  Every time they are together the light Daniel brings to Dave’s soul burns brighter than before, and every time they are apart it lowers in waiting.  Dave dreads the parting, as he will have to do in only a couple of hours, but this weekend has been the greatest in Dave’s life, as the last weekend he spent with his son was. 

Dave shells out $6.00 for the two cones then the pair starts trekking back toward the truck on the other side of the fair, cones in hand and tongues busy.  As they reach the parking lot Daniel stops and looks up at Dave.  “Dad, do I have to go back to mom’s today?  I have so much fun with you; can’t I just stay another day?” 

Though the two have this same conversation every time they are together, it still breaks Dave’s heart.  It just feels like a lie every time Dave replies as he must now.  “I’m sorry son, but you have to go back.  You have school tomorrow and your mom and sisters would miss you too much if you stayed.”

“But don’t you miss me when I’m gone?” 

This argument is new, and Dave is not ready for it.  He kneels down in front of his son, eyes full of tears, “I miss you every minute you are gone son, but this is how it must be.  Should we set our watches now?”  With Daniel’s sullen nod Dave took off Daniel’s watch and his own.  This had become a ritual between the two every time they met.  Dave traded his Rolex for a pair of digital Timex watches which he sets to ring the day before Dave and Daniel are to see each other.  He sets them both to go off in 12 days, 275 hours to be precise, then returns the watches to the respective wrists. 

Dave then stands up and the two get in the truck and drive.  The ride across town is silent, both occupied by their own thoughts.  At Susan’s house Dave pulls over to the curb, gets out, and helps Daniel collect his things.  At the door Dave gives his son a hug, and walks away, the flame dimming as he drives away.