// indicates flashback
Chapter 2: Mending Wall
I never believed him when he told me his words came from the bottle. Perhaps in a sense; the liquor gave him the motivation to speak them. But they came from somewhere deep inside. Some place he kept hidden. It was a place he would frequently visit, usually when he was sober. His mind worked against him that way, keeping him lost in the past. It was a wall he couldn't climb, a dream he couldn't shake. He was on one side and I was on the other. We communicated blindly, never really seeing or feeling. Except once, the last time we spoke…
//…"Step on the cracks, you'll break your mother's back." The young boy giggled as he hopped over the crevices in the sidewalk. I shifted the grocery bag in my hand; my stomach rumbled with hunger. The house came into view and it was all I could do to keep from running, leaving Joseph behind. "Hey Vincent, you stepped on the crack!" he cried, making his stupid game out to be a serious matter.
"Who cares! I'm starving."
"You stepped on another one. You're breaking your mother's back."
I snorted. Like it applied to me anyway. I didn't have a mother and probably never would. Joseph didn't seem to understand that. Then, of course, why would he? He had a mother, a father, food, toys, anything he wanted. He could make up senseless games as if nothing else mattered. I tightened my grip on the bag and began to walk faster; I suddenly had a burning desire to get away from him.
"Wait, Vincent! You have a father, don't you? If you step on the cracks, you'll break your father's back!"
I ignored the urge to turn around and punch him. Instead, I broke into a run, leaving him to his childish game. When I reached my house, my father was in his usual place. He held a bottle in his hand, which he was sipping slowly. I went into the kitchen and set the bag on the counter. Opening the freezer, I placed the groceries in one by one. I left out a frozen pizza for dinner and then headed back into the living room.
"I got us some stuff for dinner," I said, plopping down on the couch. "We can have pizza tonight and then tomorrow we can have—"
"Where'd you get the money?" he asked, interrupting me.
"From the neighbors. Joseph went with me to the store." I tucked my legs under me and began to twiddle my thumbs, waiting for the snide remarks. Old man wasn't too fond of the neighbors. I only hoped he would hurry it along so we could eat.
"What did they say?"
I looked up, startled. He had never asked nor cared before, only cursed them for thinking they were better than him. "They said they would call child services soon."
He took another sip from the bottle. "I figured that. They've been threatening me for a while now."
"What?"
"They've been telling me that for a couple of weeks. I lied and told them that I had a job working at night. I guess they finally caught on." I looked at him as if I had never seen him before. He had never spoken like this. The only time he really spoke was to give me his hard-learned advice. His shadowy figure shifted restlessly. "Maybe it's about time I get a job and get myself together. What do you think?"
Old man get a job? That would be the day. I shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, I suppose we wouldn't go hungry anymore."
He stared at the bottle in his hand, twirling it and examining it, as if it were some type of an illusion. I began to play with the stuffing in the couch, pulling it out and then pushing it back in. He set the bottle on the coffee table and leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. "There has to be another way…to forget."
He had never told me much about his past. I wished I knew what he was trying to forget and why, but I didn't bother to ask. He said the same thing every time, that it wasn't important.
"I wasn't always like this," he said softly. Funny, I couldn't imagine him any other way. "I was once a lively young man. I had faith in the world and in people." He paused for a moment, turning to look out of the window. "I could see things in color. Everything was so beautiful. Now I only see shades of gray. The world is dead to me. Cold, unforgiving, gray. I would give anything to be the way I was before." I lay back on the couch, listening intently, glad that he was finally allowing me a glimpse into his past, however brief it was.
He leaned back on the couch, tilting his head backward. He said nothing for a long while. I lay there silently, breathing in the musty odor of the old couch. The whole house had that kind of smell. Like it had been empty for months, devoid of activity. For the most part, it had. We had nothing new, nothing special. We spent many of our days this same way. Even so, I was content. He wasn't a great man, but he was all I knew. I had nothing else to hold on to.
"Do you want to leave?" he asked, after about ten minutes or so.
"Huh?"
"Do you want to go away? To live with someone else?"
"No."
"I know I haven't been the best father. Hell, I haven't hugged you since you were three. Do you mind?"
It took me a moment to realize what he was saying. I had a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. He had never been the affectionate type. What had brought on this sudden change in him? "Maybe later," I finally replied, looking away from him.
"Yeah…later…."
He closed his eyes. I stared at the cracked, yellowing walls, tracing the lines with my eyes. I could hear Joseph's cheerful voice in my head. "Step on a crack, break your 'father's' back. You may not have a mother, but you do have a father." I turned away from the wall and looked at his silhouetted form. Maybe I would like to hug him. His chest rose and fell with his soft breaths. He was slumbering peacefully. "Maybe later," I said to myself, drifting into sleep. \\
