When Henry was 8-years-old, his third grade teacher, Mrs. Finch, announced that the class would be having a "Bring Your Dad to School Day". Henry immediately frowned at the news and then raised his hand high in the air, wiggling his arm impatiently to get the teachers attention.
"Yes, Henry?" Mrs. Finch asked with a smile.
Henry lowered his hand and glanced around the room at the other kids who had turned to see him.
"I don't have a dad."
The boys words automatically sucked the color from Mrs. Finch's face and her heart gave a stutter as she scrambled to respond.
"Oh that's alright, Henry," she quickly replied, "You can bring your mom, instead."
Mrs. Finch silently applauded herself for the quick recovery before she turned her attention to the rest of the class, planning to discuss the "Bring Your Dad (Parent!) to School Day" in greater detail. Henry raised his hand again, stopping her from continuing and Mrs. Finch nodded for him to speak.
"But everyone already knows my mom!" Henry complained, "And I don't want to be the only kid who brings his mom!"
Mrs. Finch started to get impatient.
"Well," she began as she tried to think-up a solution for her father-less student, "You can bring a grandpa, or an uncle, or maybe even a close family friend—if you'd like."
Henry frowned. He didn't have any of those...
When school was over, Henry didn't run home eagerly to tell his parent about "Bring Your Dad to School Day". Henry sat on the curb, staring down at the ground as he watched his classmates shoes run passed him. He sat there even after the sounds of their voices had faded away and he was all alone. A particular pair a black dress shoes passed him by then. The shoes kidded to a halt, reversed and then stopped in front of him. Henry followed the shoes up to dark jeans, up to a buttoned vest, up to a silk scarf and finally up to the frowning face of man he'd never seen before.
"Did someone forget to pick you up?" Jefferson asked, clenching his jaw as he thought of just who that someone was.
Henry drug a hand across his eyes, wiping away the wetness that had filled them.
"No, I walk home from school."
Jefferson swallowed as the boy gazed-up at him with teary eyes and it wrenched at his heart.
"Then, what's wrong?"
Henry took a deep breath and then stared at the ground before he vented his problems to a complete stranger.
"I don't have a dad," he confessed, "And we're having a "Bring Your Dad to School Day"."
Jefferson uncomfortably shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he stood before the boy.
"So—Take someone else."
"But I don't have anyone else!" Henry exclaimed as he rested his elbows on his knees and his head between his hands, "All I have is my mom and she's a girl."
Jefferson winced at the word. Girl wasn't exactly the term he'd use to describe Regina.
"I don't even have an uncle," the boy continued as his face pouted in his hands, "I don't have anyone."
A jolt went through Jefferson at the boys words and—despite his better judgment—he found himself sitting down on the curb beside him.
"I don't have anyone, either." Jefferson confessed as he thought of the daughter that didn't remember who he was.
A spark was lit inside of Henry then, and he turned to the stranger, examining him with hopeful eyes.
"You don't?"
The question was a slippery slope, and suddenly, Jefferson decided it was best to go before he got himself into something he couldn't get himself out of.
"Wait!" Henry cried as he reached-out a hand to grab Jefferson's.
The man froze at the feeling of the smaller hand tugging at his own. It dug-up some buried memory of his daughter and Jefferson shut his eyes at the pain of it. When he opened them again, the boy had stood to his feet and was looking at him with a smile. To Jefferson's horror, he could almost see a light bulb switch-on above the child's head.
"I could bring YOU!" Henry exclaimed, "You could just be a friend—a family friend!"
Jefferson grimaced as the boy looked up at him with bright, pleading eyes.
"PLEASE?" he begged.
"You don't even know me," Jefferson explained, "And I KNOW your mother wouldn't approve."
No sooner had he said it that Jefferson raised his eyebrows in consideration. Then again—Regina being against something was reason enough to do it.
"I won't tell her!" Henry declared, "It will be our secret!"
A smile tugged at the corner of Jefferson's mouth. The boy had gumption and—despite his better judgment—Jefferson found himself taking a liking to the mayor's son. The two stared at each for a moment. Henry looking at Jefferson with hopeful eyes, while Jefferson clenched his jaw in deliberation. He knew all too well that secrets weren't easily kept from Regina, but honestly—what more could she do to him? Jefferson sighed in surrender.
"So," he began, "What exactly does one do on "Bring Your Dad to School Day"?"
.
.
"...and that's my job. I take the data I'm given and enter it into the computer. That's about it."
Mrs. Finch gave a lackluster applause.
"Thank you, Timmy and Mr. Tompkins." she said as the latest father and child walked back to their seats.
Jefferson stifled a yawn. How had he ever been convinced to do this? How was it that so many people had such boring jobs?
"Next we have Henry and, umm—"
"Jefferson!" he quickly informed her, eager to stand to his feet, "My name is Jefferson."
As he and Henry approached the front of the classroom—it dawned on him that his occupation in this world was no more interesting than any of the others. In fact, Jefferson didn't even have a job. He had planned to discuss the work of a hatter, but as he stood before the bored children and their fathers—he decided against it.
"Hi," Henry started-out as he faced the crowd, "I'm Henry and this is my friend, Jefferson. He's a—"
"Magician!"
That word alone snapped-up the heads of the fathers who had started to nod off, and suddenly, all eyes were alert and on Jefferson. The attention gave him a particular thrill that he hadn't felt in—what seemed like—a lifetime. He smiled at his audience as he paced before them.
"I am a magician who performs hat tricks—"
Jefferson walked up to the postal-worker-father who was wearing a plastic sun hat.
"May I?" he asked with a bow and the man happily handed over the hat.
Jefferson tossed it behind his back, allowing it to roll down his shoulder and into his hand. Henry watched him with pride and excitement as he tossed the hat under his leg and on to his head with a silly facial expression that made the room fill with laughter. Jefferson hadn't felt such satisfaction in an immeasurable amount of years—yet, surprisingly, he still remembered the carefree magician he had once been.
"What else can you do?" a little girl asked from the back of the classroom.
A wistful expression came over Jefferson's face and he momentarily zoned-out—lost in his memories. He slowly crouched down to the floor with the hat between his hands. The children stood-up from their seats so they could see what the magician might do next.
"Once upon a time I had a magical hat that could transport me to other worlds—"
"Like Mars?" a little boy asked excitedly, while some of the fathers shifted uncomfortably, growing suddenly suspicious of the so-called magician.
Jefferson gave a dry laugh as he glanced up from the floor he was crouching over. He looked around the room, meeting every pair of eyes that was seated before them. He knew what they couldn't remember. He knew what they couldn't know.
"All worlds," Jefferson replied before spinning the sun hat like top on the floor, "And with a spin of my hat—a portal would open up, leading into a grand room that was filled with numerous entrances to other worlds."
The children listened to him eagerly and their heads quickly began to fill-up with dreams about magic hats that opened portals. One of the father's cleared his throat as he shot the teacher a pointed look. At the sound, Jefferson stopped the hat from spinning and then stood to his feet.
"But, of course, I no longer have that magical hat," he said as the wistful look returned to his face, "I lost it a long time ago."
"How did you lose it?"
"Did someone steal it from you?"
"Did the aliens take—"
"OKAY! Let's meet our next father," Mrs. Finch quickly chimed in, "Uh, thank you Henry and Jefferson for that...interesting presentation."
Jefferson gave her a bored look and then walked up to the postal-worker-father who had loaned him the sun hat. Jefferson dropped the sun hat onto his shoulder, rolled it down his arm, and then off the tip of his finger to the other man.
"Thank you," he said before walking down the row of seats, ignoring the suspicious looks the other fathers were sending him.
Henry was all-smiles as he took his seat next to Jefferson. The other children looked at him with envy, wishing that their dads had such a cool job. No one paid much attention to the other fathers after that and soon enough "Bring Your Dad to School Day" was over.
Jefferson and Henry walked side-by-side towards the front of the school. Henry animatedly reenacted Jefferson's hat tricks.
"And then you were like this!"
Henry threw an invisible hat under his leg and caught it on his head. Jefferson smiled at the boy, feeling grateful to him for temporarily breaking-up the monotony of his life. For a few hours he had even forgotten about the great big empty hole that was left in his heart—the emptiness of being separated from his daughter.
"Thank you, Henry," Jefferson said to the boy, "Thank you for letting me be your dad for a day."
Henry beamed-up at him, wearing a grin on his face that caused Jefferson's smile to widen. They both found themselves walking a little slower as they approached the sidewalk where they would go their separate ways. The boy without a father and the man who didn't have his daughter felt reluctant to say their goodbyes, but they both wanted to avoid from getting into trouble with the boy's mom. The two came to a stop as their shoes met the pavement of the sidewalk. With a sigh, Henry glanced up at Jefferson.
"Would you teach me one of your hat tricks sometime?"
Jefferson glanced down at the boy as he examined him carefully, and—Regina be damned—he nodded in agreement.
"I'll teach you a few tricks," he replied, "Just so long as you never tell your mom who taught them to you."
Henry grinned and enthusiastically gave a nod of his head. And then, the boy without a father and the man who didn't have his daughter went their separate ways, knowing that at least they had each other—at least, they had a friend.