Near Thing
No great epic. A love story. And a 'not so' love story . . .
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Chapter One –
There was little that Malcolm Reed remembered from before his fifth birthday, save a nagging feeling that 'The Our Father', which he dutifully said each day as a Catholic school boy, really had more words. He would finish the prayer with his classmates – then have the distinct urge to say more.
(Years later – as a teenager – he realized that he must have 'picked up', probably prior to being baptized as Roman Catholic, the Protestant version of the prayer. The Martins, his mother's family, were staunch members of the Church of England, and before his father retired from being at sea, Malcolm thought he must have attended services with them.)
Oh, and oddly he did remember – at least he thought he did – something from being a very young child. As Malcolm got older, the memory – if was what it was – acquired a sort of golden hue, rather like 'tales of times gone by'.
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He remembered thinking that he did not want to be stuck in his crib whilst being awake, not when there were things to do 'out there'. Mum called him, 'her little monkey', as Malcolm could quite deftly climb despite his lack of height over the edge of the railing of his crib, and plop – down on the floor. Then walk in one's booted nightclothes over to the door.
This particular time, the young adventurer was able to reach the door lever, and twisting it, entered a hallway which led to the room where his toys were. He liked to look at his picture books, especially about animals – and most of his stuffed animals were stored in this room too. (His Da' had given them to him – whoever Da' was – Mum said 'he was on a boat'. He had already figured out that Mum was not very good at explaining things, and he was well on his way to understanding 'how to read' and to judge for himself what things meant.)
The child made his way into the room where noise was coming from – he had not learned yet to make himself be quiet so as to surprise, but rather walked in, curious. A man (no, his Da' – he amended in his memory, according to Mum) was sitting in front of the television and hearing the approach of his wandering son, turned and said, "how did you get out of your crib?" Malcolm could tell that he wasn't angry, because he had a big smile on his face – and this made the toddler smile too. (Malcolm saw a picture of himself at this age, smiling . . . even now when his friends saw that particular grin they knew he had done something 'over the top'. )
Malcolm saw that there was a program on the television that had pictures of 'the big water.' (Now Mum had told him that there really wasn't water in the television, but only pictures of water; not like the bathtub where there really was water, and Malcolm liked to play with his toy boats, and rubber fishes.) The child liked to watch the television when there were nature programs, and he walked toward the screen and pointed. Da' took this to mean that he was curious about what was on, and said brightly, "I sail on a boat."
He figured that the two year-old could understand that – and Malcolm remembered that he did indeed understand and laughed with pleasure. His Da' was a sailor! (Malcolm remembered his Mum saying that the ocean was the biggest thing in the whole world, and reasoned at the time his Da' was so brave, which didn't match up to what the adult man thought later – but Malcolm believed it was because he was two at the time.) (Still it was a valid feeling at the time.)
"Are you hungry?" asked Da', who picked up his squiggly child – the boy was constantly in motion save when asleep. Mary had mentioned that the lad was active, but wasn't just physically, but he could see how intensely his son was learning about his world. "How about a peanut butter and jam sandwich? And milk to wash it down?" Malcolm remembered nodding his head, and what kind of food that was.
Da' handed his son a big person's cup – he grabbed it with both hands, careful as he could be as a two year old not to spill. Mum always made him drink out of a 'baby cup' though he thought he could handle a regular glass . . . and 'Oh, the sandwich!' When Mum made a peanut butter and jam sandwich, you could see the bread through the peanut butter and jam because Mum said she didn't want messes.
His Da' though knew the best way to make the treat and the sandwich was thick with both peanut butter and jam – only a little bit spilled that day – and Malcolm remembered forever that his Da' knew brilliantly how to make peanut butter and jam sandwiches . . . Mum returned later that day from a shopping trip, none the wiser of her son's meal.
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Soon after, Lieutenant Commander Michael Constable returned to duty aboard the HMS Neptune, and would not again see his family; He would be killed as a result of a terrorist attack on the Royal Naval vessel . . .