Father and Son

Short Story

Photo by Thomas Park on Unsplash

                                                          

A father and son sat drinking whiskey.  Three dogs wandered about the deck, sniffing and searching for a comfortable place to lay their heads.  A metal fire pit sat between the two men and the father was placing more wood into the flames. At the corner of the deck there was an old rusted closed topped grill smoking; the smell of charred beef and the crackle of grease filled the air.  The smoke drifted upwards towards the overhanging trees, the last bit of sunlight sagging on the horizon. 

“I don’t wanna get too excited, but I’m starting to think they’re gonna do it,” said the son. 

“What, win the league?” 

“Of course win the league!  Ten games to go and we’re eight points clear!”

“Eighteen years.  Eighteen fucking years!” Said the father with a hearty chuckle. 

“It’s nineteen now, right?” 

“Oh three oh four.  And it’s two thousand twenty-three.  Nineteen years.”  Both men sipped their whiskey; the clink of ice cubes against glass mixed with the crackle of the flames. 

“I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to keep my shit together.  Ten fucking games left and we’re top of the league,” said the son.  “I know you don’t play.  But it affects the FIFA game too.  Usually, you’re playing in order to forget about Arsenal in real life, but this season is hard to top, even in video game land.”

“One game at a time,” answered the father as he scratched behind the ears of the dog beneath his feet. 

“I can’t help but think about Emmart.” 

“Yeah, Brent was a good guy.”

“It just makes me think about how long I’ve got.  Or any of us.  I haven’t seen him really since I left high school.  But I saw his picture and he definitely took care of himself.  And I’m over here smokin cigs and drinkin.  Gettin fat.” 

“I’m not exactly at my physical peake either,” said the father with another chuckle. 

“What’s Dzedu’s line about getting old?”

“You know you’re getting old when you know more people dead than alive.”

Darkness had crept up and the stars would soon be shining down through the trees.  The father finished off what was left in his glass and stood, making his way over to the grill.  The son stared off into the surrounding woods. 

“And Bo too.  Where’s the beer, maaaan?” 

“Yeah Bo,” said the father with a sigh. 

“Mom said the cancer got him?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll have to let Judy know.  I think that was her first time meeting Bo.  Where’s the beer maaaan?  Did he have beer with him though?” 

“No.  That’s the whole reason he said it.” 

“For some reason I have a picture in my head of him holding a case of Yuengling.” 

“I believe we rectified the situation,” said the father with a smile. 

“I just remember playing D and D with you guys.  Steve was there.”

“Yeah.  I can remember that too.” 

“Bo was the dungeon master or whatever.”

“Yes.  Bo was dungeon master,” the father replied as he closed the top to the grill. 

“How’s everything looking?”

“Eehhh, we still got a bit of time left.  But we’re looking good.”

“Remember when we helped Steve move?” Asked the son. 

“How could I forget?  Remember, you said that compared to Steve and Bo I was in pretty good shape.  Then I said, they’re not exactly settin the bar real high.”  Said the father as he returned to his seat.

The son smiled. 

“I always liked Steve.  It’s sad how things went.”

“Yeah.  I remember him calling me to help him move again.  I was in the hospital after my stroke.  I just told him I couldn’t help.  But that he had a place if he needed it.  I just never thought he would turn into this growth living in my house.” 

“I don’t think he had the easiest life, dad.”

“I know that.”

“I remember the night he moved in.  We were at the kitchen table.  He said he’d put a gun in his mouth.” 

“Yeah, he told me that too.”

“Your old college roommate.”

“That he was.”

“Have you heard from him?”

“Nope.  He never even thanked me.  I thought I was giving him a place to stay while he looked for work, got back on his feet.  He gave me some bullshit about not having clothes for an interview.  This had been about six months after he moved in.  So, I gave him some money for clothes.  He took it and bought gas and a carton of cigarettes and left.” 

“I don’t think he knew what to do after his mom died.  Looking back, he was definitely depressed.”

“Ya think?  Do you remember his mom’s funeral?  You, me, Steve, and Marcy.  Do you remember Marcy?  We were the only so-called family members at that funeral.  Everyone else there was from the church.” 

“Yeah, Marcy was like his girlfriend or whatever.  She was married though, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah, she was.” 

“I always kinda wondered how Steve had gotten involved with her.  She seemed pretty normal.” 

“Yeah, I think Steve must’ve had a big dick or something.  In college he pretty much slept with whoever he wanted.” 

“I mean, Steve could be a nice guy.”

“Steve was a nice guy,” said the father as he poked a stick at the dying embers of the fire. 

“Do you think he’s still alive?”

“I really don’t know and I’m not sure I care.”

“Well, he was in our lives.  He was always good to me.” 

“I know.  The meat should be ready soon.  I’m gonna refill my glass.” 

“I’ll join you.”