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‘Nose to Nose’
by
Brian and his dad, Rick, walked down Main
Street, turned left and strolled along Belgrade Avenue. Triple
deckers lined the streets close to the edge of the sidewalk. A
pizza parlor and convenience store, run by the same Greek
immigrant family, spilled out sounds of activity and warm
smells. There was hardly anyone on the street beside them,
which was just the way Rick liked it; he hated stopping for
small talk with neighbors or smiling at strangers. Father and
son were headed home from the YMCA after Brian’s karate
class. Rick wanted to stop in for a beer at Kelley’s and
to watch the Sox vs Yankee baseball game. He was bringing Brian
along because he was babysitting today.
Usually Rick left the boy’s care to
Ellen, his wife. But today she was at the doctor’s so he
was taking Brian back and forth from his afternoon commitments.
Frankly, he didn’t see why Brian couldn’t have just
skipped his karate class and stayed with Ellen’s sister
for the afternoon, but he hadn’t challenged Ellen’s
request for his help. And Rick was bringing him home.
It wasn’t that Rick didn’t want
to be with Brian, but he wanted to stay at home and be with
him, not have to go out in public. Not that it was embarrassing
to Rick, but he wanted to protect Brian from all the stares and
questions that he got, especially from children.
Kelley’s scent of stale beer and
French fries greeted them as they opened the door and walked
inside. Brian hesitated by the door for a minute.
“It’s dark,” Brian
announced.
“Yeah, it always is.” Rick led
him to the bar by the sleeve of his Red Sox jacket and motioned
him towards a stool. They sat down side by side. The bartender,
KC, wrapped in a filthy white apron, smiled when he saw Brian.
“Hey, big guy. What’s happening?”
Brian shook KC’s hand and then
slapped him high five. “What’ll you have?” KC
asked Brian. “The usual?” Brian guffawed, right on
cue as he did whenever anyone paid attention to him, setting
off that rocket of hate in Rick whenever anyone teased with
Brian this way. The few patrons at the bar glanced over and
nodded at Rick, then looked back at the TV and the baseball
game.
“Coke, please,” Brian said and
smiled at his father, the drool slipping down his chin. Brian,
like most small children, loved to be around people. Rick
sometimes regretted that they couldn’t have any more
children after Brian, but other times he felt glad that they
didn’t have any others like him. Ellen had been told that
any more children were out of the question after Brian.
Complications. His life was filled with them.
“Who’s winning?” Rick
asked KC.
“Sox aren’t. Why can’t we
have a winning season from the get-go?” KC stood back
from the bar, arms spread like a preacher at the pulpit.
“I’m sick of watching the Yankees kick our
ass.”
“Kick our ass.” repeated Brian
as he picked up his glass to slurp through the straw.
Rick glanced at his son, “Don’t
repeat things.”
Brian nodded. “Okay Dad.
Sorry.”
Brian liked lots of crushed ice in his soda
so he could crunch. Rick’s stomach turned as he watched
the soda dribble out of the boy’s full mouth. He turned
to the TV set. A tall burley man in a Scally cap and Irish knit
sweater entered the bar. Rick turned and saw his high school
friend framed in the light behind him as the door swung shut.
“How’s it going?” he
asked Rick as he took the seat on the other side of him.
“Not bad George, not bad.”
George nodded to K.C. who was already sliding a draft across
the bar to him.
“Hey, kid,” George asked Brian,
who was startled by the booming voice.
“Huh?” Brian turned his body to
look at George and knocked over his glass. Coke spread across
the counter. Brian began to whimper, trying with his hand to
dam the liquid from spilling any farther.
“Jesus.” Rick reached across
the counter to right the glass, but it was too late, the
contents had emptied and were traveling on their own.
“KC, sponge. Can’t take you anywhere.” He was
shaking his head and muttering under his breath.
KC tossed the rag and Rick wiped up the
soda, with a crying Brian looking on.
“No big deal, kid. It happens all the
time in here. Why do you think it always smells like
beer?” KC tousled Brian’s hair, who responded by
smiling widely and cooing, tears drying up immediately.
George, with his usual frankness, motioned
towards Brian and said; “Must be tough having a kid like
that.”
Rick glared at him. “What would you
know about that. Your kid is a big baseball star.” Rick
shifted away from George. He could feel that all too familiar
anger rising in his gut, an awakening volcano--feeling it was
going to happen, and powerless to stop it. He did what he
always did. He ran.
“Hurry up, Brian. We’ve got to
go home.” Brian gulped down the soda, the overflow
running down his face, and hopped up to join his dad who was
halfway out the door. “See you.” KC waved.
“Bye, Brian.”
“Bye-bye,” Brian said and waved
back at the bartender, nearly walking into the door that was
slamming shut behind Rick.
Once out into the sunlight, Rick felt the
anger ebb. Rising and falling. There was no control over it
beyond just getting out of the situation that made him angry in
the first place. Not very efficient, but it kept him out of
fights most of his life. Rick had not been able to talk about
his anger even when Ellen could pinpoint exactly why he was
angry. He wasn’t having any of that psychological crap.
“Mom home?” Brian asked as they
began the climb up their hill. Montvale Ave. They lived at the
halfway mark.
“Dad.” Brian shook Rick’s
shoulder, trying to get his attention. “Dad. Dad.”
Rick shook him off.
“What?” Brian stood nose to
nose with Rick. It startled him to realize that.
“Mom’s home.” Brian began
to lope up the hill towards the house. Ellen had parked in
front of the house, never having gotten comfortable pulling
into the steep driveway. As they rounded the turn, Rick had
sharp and pleasant memory of last winter when Brian went
sledding down their driveway over and over again. Every
Saturday during the winter, Rick would shovel the snow back
onto the narrow slope so that Brian could sled while Rick stood
at the foot of the driveway to watch for cars. Sometimes Susana
from upstairs would come out and join Brian, sledding on a
piece of cardboard. Right now, Rick was anxious to hear
Ellen’s news. He and Brian walked up the back stairs with
Brian scooping up his cat, Poppy, from the bottom step and
holding open the door for his dad.
Ellen was at the back door nearly as soon
as they were. She wore a huge smile as she hugged Brian hello.
They never took each other for granted. Every time mother and
son saw each other after being apart, it was as if each was
returning from a long trip. Rick got jealous sometimes. Not
this time though. He was still trying to stop feeling angry for
yelling at Brian and George in the bar. Next time, he
wouldn’t stop in there. That stupid George always had
something to say. Brian hung his jacket on his own peg right
next to Ellen’s.
“What’s for supper, Ma?”
he asked.
“Your favorite-macaroni and
cheese.” She pointed to the blue box on the counter.
“Yea!” He ran off to the TV
room.
“What did the doctor say?” Rick
hung his own jacket.
“I need to have a minor
procedure.” She looked out the window while she spoke.
“What kind of procedure?” Rick
went to stand behind her and looked over her shoulder out the
window. She was staring towards a pair of cardinals, feeding at
the small cedar birdhouse.
“Something that requires me to stay
overnight. I scheduled it for next Friday.”
“Friday!” She had said minor,
but minor meant day surgery and this was overnight.
“Yes, Friday. I want to get it over
with.”
“I’ll go into work late so I
can get Brian off to school.” “I’ll leave him
with your sister after school until I can get you home.
You’ll be home on Saturday, right? Brian and I will come
and get you first thing?”
“Should be.”
“What do you mean, ‘should
be’?” Rick clenched the back of the chair.
“What’s the doctor going to do anyhow?”
