Surprised? : A LIGHT LIGHTS

My shoes and clothes are wet from the fast moving spring shower. I run thru it. I am soaked. As usual my Dad has left the front door unlocked for me and this time I am extra glad. My wet sneakers I leave in the hallway and go upstairs to dry off, change my clothes, attack my homework. Dad doesn’t hear my bare feet as he kneels in front of his bedroom door. I wonder, what in the world is he doing? He tears off a small piece of paper and with a screw driver he pushes it into the key hole. Another small piece gets stuffed in. Dad looks over his handy work, sighs slightly and enters his room. First thing I think of is ‘if I did that, I’d be grounded forever.’ What’s my old man up to? My sox don’t squish but are uncomfortable. I pull them off, drop them in the bathtub meaning to take care of them later. My concentration on getting my book report finished before dinner falters.

 

Dad helps me with the cover for my report. Sure, I know that is illegal, but I make suggestions, choose the design and colors and oversee his artistry so the inside work looks special. And..I know he is in his glory using his talent, something I would die to have. I inherited my mom’s clumsiness. She and I used to laugh at my stick men, crooked windows, clouds that didn’t fluff. Mom’s died last year and Dad and I miss her a lot.

 

She was independent, didn’t mention she was going to see Dr. Gold.
‘Come with me, Aaron. It won’t hurt if you get a check up, too. It’s been years.’ Dad goes, has a full exam and passes all tests. Mom does not. She submits to MRI, blood work, heart, lungs, everything. Months drag as Mom goes downhill. Our hearts grow heavier and heavier. No elephant could lift them. Dad’s spirit completely disappears. He mopes, his gray eyes become lack luster. He forces smiles when he visits Mom.

 

The house feels so empty. I can still smell her roast in the oven. I touch the clean sheets on my bed that the day worker puts on. They feel different somehow from when Mom changed the linens. And I miss the hospital corners the worker doesn’t make.

 

Dad never liked whiskey but recently he seems to enjoy a glass of cherry Passover wine in the evening. It is sweet, inexpensive and brings memories to mind. It doesn’t matter that Passover passed over. He makes lots of charcoal drawing, an especially lovely one of Mom. Today I found it torn to bits in the trash can in the alley. That hurt me. I’m angry at my dad.  I would have framed it for my room. But, gone is gone.

 

Last night Dad slowly drank two glasses of kosher cherry wine, put on his jacket and told me he was going for a walk. I offer to go along but he wants to be by himself. I don’t press him. By 10:30 I begin to worry. Where had he gone? I lectur myself that he is a grown man and would take care of himself. My eyes tire by 11 and I go to bed. Opening them later the digital clock blinks 1:30. My ears pick up low strange sounds. Sleep grabs me by my pajama pants and I am gone again.

 

In the early morning I hear a rustling sound, find Dad in his bedroom changing the sheets. ‘What are you doing, Dad? Viola comes today.’ As he closes the door on me, he gets surly and tells me he can do it if he feels like it and he feels like it.  After breakfast he leaves for work. I go upstairs for my school books. Something glitters in the corner of the top stairs. It stops me cold in my tracks. I pick it up and feel my jaw drop to my chest. It is a dangling earring and not one of Mom’s! I cannot contain myself. I whistle. I laugh. My father had a woman in his bed and knew in advance that was going to happen. That explained the paper in the keyhole to his room. He didn’t want me to peep.

 

My god, I would never do that----or would I?