EXCERPT
THE REUNION
The warm mid-July breeze blew gently through the spreading oak trees of the backyard. Beneath, in the shadows of the many branches, the lighthearted sounds of laughter and of water splashing drifted up from the in-ground swimming pool.
"Okay! Okay!" laughed the thin, graying haired man as he shielded his face from the barrage of water. "I give up."
"Carl James Wallace!" a familiar stern female voice thundered down on the two men. "You get out of that swimming pool and get into the house immediately."
The smile faded from Carl's face. He recognized the tone in his wife's voice. He had heard it several times in the passed two months since Steven had moved back home.
"I'm sorry, son," he apologized. Lately it seemed as though he had been apologizing a lot. Carl turned around and made his way to the steps; the water in the pool swirling around him.
"That's okay, Dad," Steven nodded. He know why his mother was upset but he still felt bad for his father.
"I guess your mother is upset with me again," Carl said, trying to release some of the tension as he watched her disappear into the house.
"Maybe I should talk to her again?" Steven handed his father a towel. "I'm not a little boy anymore. She doesn't have to worry about me."
Carl looked at his eldest son and for a moment saw a little, brown-haired boy with freckles. The image was quickly replaced by the tall, thin, young man with a mustache and a touch of gray on his temples standing before him. Carl smiled. The years had flown by so quickly.
"She's your mother, Steven. It's her job to worry about you and your brother and sisters. It has nothing to do with your age. To her, you will always be her 'little boy.'" Carl said as he dried himself.
"Well, I thought she understood. I don't want to be babied. I want to--"
"I know," Carl interrupted him, not wanting to hear those words again. "She does understand, but her heart doesn't. This isn't easy for your mother. Hell, it isn't easy for me."
Steven looked at his father. Suddenly he saw a frail older man. The strong arms that once lifted him up in the air, weren't made of steel. They were flesh and bone. The dark, fearless eyes that always made him feel safe and secure were red from the chlorine from the pool or was it something else?
"But you seem to be handling it fine," Steven said, now trying more to convince himself than his father.
"Yeah, I do, don't I." Carl answered, feigning a smile. Inside his chest he felt a pain and his throat ached as he fought back the tears from showing in his eyes. "Well," he breathed loudly. "Let's get out of these wet clothes before the rest of the family arrives."
"Sure thing." Steven answered. He put his arm around his father's shoulders. "I love you, Dad."
Carl clenched his teeth and fought harder to keep from letting his tears fill his eyes. He turned and hugged his son tightly until the flood of emotion passed.
"Let's go," he said, his voice was a mere whisper.
The two walked quietly into the house.
* * *
Steven smiled as he reflected on the fun he and his father were having in the swimming pool only moments ago. He added it to the other memories he cherished of the times they shared: their many camping trips to the lake; the time he caught his first fish; the time he watched his father save a man from drowning. He's still Superman, Steven thought.
Slowly he walked back to his bedroom after his shower. His long terry cloth bathrobe felt warm against his skin. As he walked in the open hallway above the foyer, he heard voices coming from behind his parents' bedroom door. He stopped in the doorway of his bedroom and cocked his head as he listened. He recognized his mother's voice. She was upset. Steven strained to listen.
Inside the bedroom, Carl sat on the dressing bench at the foot of their queen-size bed. He listened to his wife as he finished tying his shoelaces. He understood her concerns and her anger, but it seemed little help as she paced the floor in front of him.
"Ruth," he sighed. "He's not a baby anymore."
"I know that!" she snapped in indignation. "I'm not crazy. Is it a crime for a mother to want to hold onto her children for as long as she can?"
"No," Carl answered, shaking his head and sitting back. He didn't like keeping secrets from his children. For years he and Ruth had taught their children to be open and honest with one another and them. Now, one of them was asking them to keep a secret and it was proving to be the hardest thing they had ever done.
"This isn't about you or me, for that matter," Carl tired to explain with as much compassion in his voice as he could muster. "This is about respecting the wishes of our son."
"Well, I can't do it!" Ruth said, nearly screaming at Carl as she stopped pacing in front of him. "He's asking too much from me. I can't. It's just hard. Tell me, what other mother would agree to such a thing?"
Carl quickly stood up and took his wife in his arms. She wrapped her arms around him and sobbed into his chest.
"It's not fair." she mumbled through her tears.
"I know, Ruth. I know." Carl tried to console her. "It's his life, Ruth. We have no choice but to accept it." Carl held her trembling body in his arms and wished he could shield her from this pain as she continued to cry. "I know it's hard, but we have to try to respect his wishes otherwise we will lose him forever."
"Carl, it's tearing me apart. I don't know if I can," she protested but Carl could tell she was giving up.
"I know, honey. Honestly, I do." Carl struggled to hold back his tears. He had to be strong for her. He couldn't let her see him cry, even though he wanted to cry so desperately. Deep down, he knew that everything she had said was true. It wasn't fair.
Steven pushed himself away from the threshold of his bedroom and walked over to his bed. He sat down and looked around the room at the familiar pine wood panels on the walls, the bookcase with old schoolbooks and memorabilia from his childhood, the things he had left behind when he moved out on his own. Here everything was, just as he had left it, waiting for him to return. He looked at the suitcases and boxes stacked up next to his old writing desk under the window. It was true. He had returned but for how long?
His thoughts returned to his parents' conversation. He knew what he was asking them to do was hard, but it was just as hard for him to tell them. Telling them meant he had to admit it to himself and that was something he had fought for two years not to do. He didn't want to hurt anyone, especially them, but if the rest of the family knew, it would tear the family apart. That was something he was not willing to do. Family had always been the most important thing to him. He would leave before he let that happen.
He looked at his nightstand and smiled. There in a wooden frame was a photograph of him and his sister Tamera taken the summer he turned ten and before she had discovered boys. Before that happened, they were inseparable. After, their relationship had changed but they were still close. Tears filled his eyes for a moment but he shook them away.
"No!" he breathed and said out loud. "No."
* * *
The warm mid-July breeze blew gently through the spreading oak trees of the backyard. Beneath, in the shadows of the many branches, the lighthearted sounds of laughter and of water splashing drifted up from the in-ground swimming pool.
"Okay! Okay!" laughed the thin, graying haired man as he shielded his face from the barrage of water. "I give up."
"Carl James Wallace!" a familiar stern female voice thundered down on the two men. "You get out of that swimming pool and get into the house immediately."
The smile faded from Carl's face. He recognized the tone in his wife's voice. He had heard it several times in the passed two months since Steven had moved back home.
"I'm sorry, son," he apologized. Lately it seemed as though he had been apologizing a lot. Carl turned around and made his way to the steps; the water in the pool swirling around him.
"That's okay, Dad," Steven nodded. He know why his mother was upset but he still felt bad for his father.
"I guess your mother is upset with me again," Carl said, trying to release some of the tension as he watched her disappear into the house.
"Maybe I should talk to her again?" Steven handed his father a towel. "I'm not a little boy anymore. She doesn't have to worry about me."
Carl looked at his eldest son and for a moment saw a little, brown-haired boy with freckles. The image was quickly replaced by the tall, thin, young man with a mustache and a touch of gray on his temples standing before him. Carl smiled. The years had flown by so quickly.
"She's your mother, Steven. It's her job to worry about you and your brother and sisters. It has nothing to do with your age. To her, you will always be her 'little boy.'" Carl said as he dried himself.
"Well, I thought she understood. I don't want to be babied. I want to--"
"I know," Carl interrupted him, not wanting to hear those words again. "She does understand, but her heart doesn't. This isn't easy for your mother. Hell, it isn't easy for me."
Steven looked at his father. Suddenly he saw a frail older man. The strong arms that once lifted him up in the air, weren't made of steel. They were flesh and bone. The dark, fearless eyes that always made him feel safe and secure were red from the chlorine from the pool or was it something else?
"But you seem to be handling it fine," Steven said, now trying more to convince himself than his father.
"Yeah, I do, don't I." Carl answered, feigning a smile. Inside his chest he felt a pain and his throat ached as he fought back the tears from showing in his eyes. "Well," he breathed loudly. "Let's get out of these wet clothes before the rest of the family arrives."
"Sure thing." Steven answered. He put his arm around his father's shoulders. "I love you, Dad."
Carl clenched his teeth and fought harder to keep from letting his tears fill his eyes. He turned and hugged his son tightly until the flood of emotion passed.
"Let's go," he said, his voice was a mere whisper.
The two walked quietly into the house.
* * *
Steven smiled as he reflected on the fun he and his father were having in the swimming pool only moments ago. He added it to the other memories he cherished of the times they shared: their many camping trips to the lake; the time he caught his first fish; the time he watched his father save a man from drowning. He's still Superman, Steven thought.
Slowly he walked back to his bedroom after his shower. His long terry cloth bathrobe felt warm against his skin. As he walked in the open hallway above the foyer, he heard voices coming from behind his parents' bedroom door. He stopped in the doorway of his bedroom and cocked his head as he listened. He recognized his mother's voice. She was upset. Steven strained to listen.
Inside the bedroom, Carl sat on the dressing bench at the foot of their queen-size bed. He listened to his wife as he finished tying his shoelaces. He understood her concerns and her anger, but it seemed little help as she paced the floor in front of him.
"Ruth," he sighed. "He's not a baby anymore."
"I know that!" she snapped in indignation. "I'm not crazy. Is it a crime for a mother to want to hold onto her children for as long as she can?"
"No," Carl answered, shaking his head and sitting back. He didn't like keeping secrets from his children. For years he and Ruth had taught their children to be open and honest with one another and them. Now, one of them was asking them to keep a secret and it was proving to be the hardest thing they had ever done.
"This isn't about you or me, for that matter," Carl tired to explain with as much compassion in his voice as he could muster. "This is about respecting the wishes of our son."
"Well, I can't do it!" Ruth said, nearly screaming at Carl as she stopped pacing in front of him. "He's asking too much from me. I can't. It's just hard. Tell me, what other mother would agree to such a thing?"
Carl quickly stood up and took his wife in his arms. She wrapped her arms around him and sobbed into his chest.
"It's not fair." she mumbled through her tears.
"I know, Ruth. I know." Carl tried to console her. "It's his life, Ruth. We have no choice but to accept it." Carl held her trembling body in his arms and wished he could shield her from this pain as she continued to cry. "I know it's hard, but we have to try to respect his wishes otherwise we will lose him forever."
"Carl, it's tearing me apart. I don't know if I can," she protested but Carl could tell she was giving up.
"I know, honey. Honestly, I do." Carl struggled to hold back his tears. He had to be strong for her. He couldn't let her see him cry, even though he wanted to cry so desperately. Deep down, he knew that everything she had said was true. It wasn't fair.
Steven pushed himself away from the threshold of his bedroom and walked over to his bed. He sat down and looked around the room at the familiar pine wood panels on the walls, the bookcase with old schoolbooks and memorabilia from his childhood, the things he had left behind when he moved out on his own. Here everything was, just as he had left it, waiting for him to return. He looked at the suitcases and boxes stacked up next to his old writing desk under the window. It was true. He had returned but for how long?
His thoughts returned to his parents' conversation. He knew what he was asking them to do was hard, but it was just as hard for him to tell them. Telling them meant he had to admit it to himself and that was something he had fought for two years not to do. He didn't want to hurt anyone, especially them, but if the rest of the family knew, it would tear the family apart. That was something he was not willing to do. Family had always been the most important thing to him. He would leave before he let that happen.
He looked at his nightstand and smiled. There in a wooden frame was a photograph of him and his sister Tamera taken the summer he turned ten and before she had discovered boys. Before that happened, they were inseparable. After, their relationship had changed but they were still close. Tears filled his eyes for a moment but he shook them away.
"No!" he breathed and said out loud. "No."
* * *
