A Tapless Shoulder (24 page)

Katie and I
had dropped the boys off with her parents for the night. We decided
to it was high time we went out for coffee and
uninterrupted
-
by
-
a
-
child
conversation.
We had forgotten that existed; never mind what it was like. It was
something we did quite often before our kids came into the picture
and obviously something we’d neglected to resume doing. We thought
small doses of one on one time every so often might do us some
good.

She was
driving and my hand was on her leg as I stared out the window in
reverie. I was myself with her. I was only ever myself with her, I
felt; for even alone I had my doubts. If ever life was explaining
something to me, I finally understood what it was saying when I met
her.

“
Dark hair
really makes my eyes pop,” she said, glancing at herself in the
rear-view mirror. She had just had her hair cut and coloured that
afternoon.

“
So do my fingers,” I said and turned to look at her. She
gave me a look that became impossible to translate, and for that, I
am sorry to have mentioned it. “Are you so tired you could pee your
pants a little and blame it on the rain?” I asked. She gave me yet
another look that was like the last, but, before where it may have
been ‘murderous’, there was a ‘what is wrong with your brain’
element to this one. I knew her looks well, yet if one asked me to
replicate them, I wouldn’t be able to. Yet,
again
, I
knew I had made those same faces with Nate and probably a good
number of other people. One would think I knew well how Nate had
been looked at most of his life, and, still, I was oblivious. If I
ever did write a book, maybe he’d be the hero. I could certainly
make it up to him then.

Katie and I
sat across from one another in a booth in the café. I stared at my
mug on the table and then raised my head to look at her. She
smiled. She was beaming; she beamed her smile at my face like a
laser and I now had a tiny, charred, smoking head turning to ash
atop slowly falling shoulders. I’ve some strange thoughts. Katie
tilted her face a touch, I smiled.

“
What are you
thinking,” she asked, knowing wisely, and maybe painfully, that the
answer was never, nothing.

“
Um… I think
I was actually just imagining you shooting a laser from your face
at mine,” I said slowly with a small laugh and shrug as if to say,
‘and there you have it.’

She laughed.
Smiling and shaking her head she added, “I don’t even know what to
say to that or if I’m even surprised. Do you have that a lot and,
like, is that with the shooting sounds and everything; baby, do
things go boom in your head?” she was laughing directly at me now.
“I guess I always thought it to be, well, I don’t really know
exactly
what
, but I can
honestly say definitely,
not
that
.”

“
Yeah, no,
just going around blowing things up in my head,” I said, almost
embarrassed. “You should see what I do to people I don’t
like.”

“
Yes, I’m
sure I don’t want to know,” she sighed.

“
I’m kidding,
love. The fantastical fights in my melon either have something to
do with societal pains that cause me suffering for some unknown
reason or my trying to counter such ugliness with memories of your
body naked – and your smile, your beautiful loving smile, yup,
constantly painting over profanity with images of beautiful you.” I
said cheerfully.

“
Uh huh, well
thank you, love, I love you very much,” she said and giggled the
way only she could. I smiled, nodding assuredly. “Seriously, have
you started taking your medication?” she asked softly and
seriously.

“
Yes,” I
replied, “only because I figure it can’t hurt, though the side
effects probably suggest otherwise.”

“
What do you mean,
probably
?” she asked
with her eyebrows raised in a manner that were nearing an
expression of concern. I liked that she was giving me the benefit
of the doubt, even if only for a moment.

“
If I did
read the packaging I probably wouldn’t be taking them,” I
countered. “I’m not even convinced I suffer from depression; it’s
more, maybe, overthinking than anything, maybe.”

“
Yeah,
maybe
,” she said
back, “that’s a lot of maybes. You don’t know, so let’s see if it
helps. That’s why you went to the doctor; it’s better to try a
solution and see that it doesn’t work than to just wonder what
would. Remember the documentary we watched about Ai WeiWei? You’re
not really entitled to complain about something unless you’ve gone
through due process and proven it doesn’t work. Um, yeah, and you
thought I wasn’t paying attention.”

She was
right. I hadn’t an argument for that. I smiled and nodded. “I know,
you’re right, I just, it just…” I stuttered and stretched, “I can’t
find the calm or I find the calm but I can’t stay in it. I keep
trying, I know it’s there, I get there, I have it, I bask in it,
and then my ego says, awesome, and the dominos fall and I scramble
but the mess is made and the very effort to clean it up just messes
it up more. Do you know what I mean?” I leaned forward with a
hopeful face.

“
No, no one
can know what you mean,” she answered honestly, “but only because
it’s in your head. You’ll get there; maybe you’re just too… smart
for your own good.”

I smiled back
at her kindness, “And you’re just too sweet for your own
butt.”

“
Aw, thanks
love.”

“
No, thank
you
. So,” I announced
softly, “now
I know
the clock is ticking on eating the
chicken in the fridge, but maybe we should finish our coffee and go
somewhere for a nice dinner instead of eating at home? Hell, with
my looks and your wallet, I’ll even buy.”

She laughed,
“Sure, let’s do that. See, I told you: you are just too darn
smart.”

While Katie
and I were entering the restaurant, I told her that a couple I
worked with, who I’d always called ‘on again’ and ‘off again’ to
their faces
and
behind their backs, were now
planning on getting married. She replied sincerely, “Oh good, now
you’ll have to learn their real names.”

“
Yeah,
maybe,” I almost agreed, “but I’m more disappointed than anything
because now when something goes wrong I can’t just yell at someone,
‘Can you get me off again?’

Right after
I’d said that, in the middle of our laugh, I was startled by a loud
booming, “
Hey
!” It was my dad.
He smiled, and I smiled and then I stopped and he kept smiling.
“You guys getting a bite to eat?” he asked
enthusiastically.

“
No,” I said
and was nudged by Katie for doing so. “I mean, yes, Kate’s parents
are watching the boys for the night.” I quickly tried in vain to
continue the excited pace he’d set.

“
Hold on a
sec,” he said, turning and looking behind him, before being
swallowed by a group of people leaving the restaurant.

“
You seem
pretty excited,” Katie said to me.

“
I am,” I
said, “I’m just glad to see my dad’s alone.”

“
You do realize that sounds horrible; don’t you?” She looked
at me as though I had just
wished
loneliness
upon him.

“
Come on,” I
said, “you know I don’t mean it like that, I’m just not ready to
deal with both of them yet … ever. And he’s probably not alone; he
usually comes here with Mr. Smith, um… Duncan’s dad,” I said,
clarifying for her who exactly I meant with a triumphant smile that
faded so fast it may as well exploded to reveal the true, defeated
mouth beneath.

I raised my
hand, finger pointing at my dad, but then retracted it, and placed
the fist in front of my mouth, which was now shut tight. Some would
often say ‘pursed’ in this instance, but I lose the appropriate
image there; having seen more open purses in my lifetime than
closed ones, and, as a result, with that word I always envision a
mouth kind of gaping open with makeup and keys falling from it or
the person gargling and choking from the million needless things
stuffed in their face. And, yes, something almost had fallen out of
my mouth, namely one big, fiery red, ‘Fuck me.’

“
We’ll sit together,” he boomed in a way only he could, in a
way that seemed to dissuade the slightest chance of disagreement,
something I’d known all my life. Then, in a tiny moment, Candy was
at his side. I remained where I was. I was thinking frantically,
which only proved to be counterproductive. There was nothing at all
linear or helpful in my head. Leave, how, go; stop, everyone, fire,
help. I looked at Katie, who couldn’t have looked more delighted to
see them there.
Why
was she so cool with
everything
? I wanted to shake her. I wanted to grab her by the
shoulders and give her a big, ‘WHAT THE—’ face, and then throw her
at them to make my escape. I wanted to head-butt the tray a nearby
waiter was carrying. Or, I thought, I could maybe kick it into the
air, shower everyone in close proximity and then dive out the
door.

We were
seated. They were talking and giggling to themselves. Katie was
glowing with excitement; dinner, family, she thought it was
perfect. I wanted to barf. The word was being spelled out in the
front of my mind: B-A-R-F. I wanted to announce it, and then do it.
I am going to barf because of you and you, and what the hell, you
two over in the back there, why not, BLAH! Then they both got up,
and I perked up with a smile.

“
We’re just
going to go to the bar and get us all some drinks,” my dad said
like there was a drink buffet table I had missed.

“
Dad, we just ordered drinks; our waitress is going to bring
them, I’m sure probably any second now,” I was annoyed with his
lack of reason now that we were committed to the problem. I didn’t
want to drag it out.
We’re
going to tease you a little bit – oh, okay, I’ll wait
here.

“
Yeah, I
know,” he said with a quick smile, “we’ll drink those
too,”

“
Of course,”
I muttered as I looked to Katie for further explanation. “You’re a
big drunk,” I blurted out loudly to his back, knowing it was likely
lost to the din of the noisy room.

“
Hey, that’s
your father,” Katie reminded me while giving my leg a
squeeze.

“
Oh, yeah,
and you know what else I remember?” I said as fast as I could, “My
father is a big drunk.”

“
Shush,” she …
shushed
me.

“
Um, what the
F, don’t shush, don’t hush, just sshhh, you are neither a librarian
nor ninety. I’ve got enough shit to deal with, okay? Stay with me
on this,” I was tired and wanted to be done with the night
immediately. Katie looked at me without approval, and I thought she
may as well go to the bar too. Hell, why weren’t we all there
having some drinks before our drinks came? It was starting to make
sense; why be sober for this?

I wanted to
pout, to flip the table, to do something that made more sense than
anything that was going on. I wanted to be a kid again, back on my
paper route; now there was a routine I could cycle through
daily.

“
Come on,
it’s been good. Lighten up and be happy your dad’s laughing, I mean
it.”

“
You wouldn’t
have said it if you didn’t mean it. Don’t add unnecessary
crap,”

“
Stop,” she interrupted, “I didn’t do anything,” she said,
announcing the
truth
like it wouldn’t have been known
otherwise.

“
Yeah… but look at the dismount I’m trying to land.” I
smiled faintly but didn’t give it a chance to settle. “This whole
thing with my dad is not funny, not funny at all. Like, where the
hell is he? Doing shots at the bar; having drinks before carrying
drinks to a table, a table
full of drinks
.” Our
waitress, Janet, was smiling at us and setting glass after glass
before us. “Thanks,” I said and smiled back. I looked desperately
at Katie. I wanted her to understand, and felt angry that she
didn’t. “This would only be funny if it was on a big screen and I
was watching it, not living it. But I’m the guy on the screen, I’m
the guy everyone watching is laughing at: my pain is funny to them.
I’m trapped in this hell, and you get to laugh, you get to be
oblivious to my hell, or maybe even clued in a little, but not
enough to help or stop a single thing or take it personally. And I
don’t… I’m not blaming you; it’s just a lonely place to be.
Where’s the party at? Excuse me, I’m
looking for an old man, he, um, hmm, he keeps a tranny at his
side
,” I looked at her,
trying to beg her with something deep in me, in my eyes, in my
soul, and I felt I may have gotten through; she was nodding and
seemed to have received my signals.