I told Daniel when I took this story: my old man was a prick too.
But down here in the Gutter, it's never too late to win your father's approval...
But down here in the Gutter, it's never too late to win your father's approval...
Icing on the Cake by Daniel Luft
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Dad
had been drinking long before I got there. Carl too, and he was shaking his
head at everything Dad said. The three of us were sitting around the pool like
when we were kids except Billy wasn’t there. And Mom of course.
“She’da
been seventy today,” Dad mumbled into his scotch. “
“I
still miss her,” I said.
I
could tell he was mad when he looked at me through his sunglasses. It’d been
dark for hours but he still had them on. I could see the angry wrinkles in his
tanned face.
“You
miss her?” he said. “You were the shittiest kid.”
“Here
we go,” Carl said.
“Donny
you sucked,” he pointed a finger at me. “Never wanted to do anything. Didn’t go
see your brothers play ball. Didn’t go camping. Didn’t go out for sports.”
“I
lettered in track.”
“Track?
Shit! Bunch of skinny kids running around and around all afternoon. Oh, and you
never liked going to the movies.”
“I go
all the time.”
“You
like stupid movies. That DVD you brought over last Thanksgiving? Christ, it was
long and I had to read the whole thing. Couldn’t you find anything in English?”
“Sorry
you didn’t like it.”
“Whatever.
You were a real shit kid. Every time I tried to beat a little sense into you
you’d just run to Mom and hide on her lap like a sissy.”
“I’m
not gay dad, just divorced.
“I
know you’re not a homosexual. I know about PC shit. No, I called you a sissy
like a mama’s boy. The original meaning. You’d do something wrong and run to
her. I’d end up in an argument with her for the rest of the night instead of
you.”
“Dad,
it’s her birthday,” Carl said.
The
wrinkles disappeared for a second. His face sank and showed its age. It was the
middle of summer and he sniffled like it was February. Then he got mad again
and pointed that finger at me.
“You
had to become a fuckin’ writer.”
“What’s
the matter with that?”
“I was
a cop. News’ guys hate cops. Just want to trample over crime scenes and get
quotes to make you look stupid.”
“That’s
not the way it works, Dad”
“How
many newspapers have you closed down now? Eight?”
“No,
Dad, it was two and, besides, I work in radio now and you know it.”
“Who
listens to the radio anymore?”
“Let’s
talk about something else?” Carl said, which made Dad notice him again.
“And
you, Christ, the one who wanted to be a doctor.”
“I am a doctor, Dad. I’m a medical
examiner.”
“You
really think you got that without your old man on the force, all decorated?”
“Dad,
I’m licensed. I’m an MD.”
“Yeah,
I’ve got a license to drive but I’m not in the Indy 500. Hell, could either of
you losers even afford to live in this place you grew up in? I did this on a
cop’s salary, paid off for twenty years. Billy’s the only one of you with any
sense. Bet he’s busy at work right now.”
Carl
and I looked at each other. Billy was the favorite, the strongest, fastest,
just made partner at a firm in Boston.
Dad
stood up to refill his drink. Just wearing his swimsuit I could see he still
had his lean, leathery body. Could probably still kick my ass.
“Shit,
the skimmer’s making that noise again.” He walked over to the pool. “Sorry if I’m
pissing you boys off,” he said over his shoulder as he got on his stomach, his
head and arms over the water. “But that’s the way it is. Remember when your Mom
got her cancer? The first time when you were kids. I prayed that she got
better. Promised to be a better husband if I got her back. And she recovered
for a long time. And I was a better husband, better father, too. Tried to give
you kids more guidance than before. You appreciate it? No.”
Carl
and I mumbled into our drinks.
“Didn’t
help a goddamn thing. So when the cancer came back I just prayed that God take
one of you two instead.”
“What?”
Carl said like he was sobering up.
“She
had so much to give and you’re a couple of pricks.”
“You
prayed for one of us to die instead of Mom?”
“Your
mother was amazing. Most people are okay at best. You two are okay, I guess,
but I’m going to my grave knowing I was too soft on you. Billy’s the only one with
any drive. Christ, what’s the matter with the skimmer?”
Dad
reached deep over the side of the pool to feel around the pump.
“Anything
I can do to help, Dad?” I asked as I walked closer.
“What
do you know about pools? You ever take care of this thing growing up?”
I
knelt down next to him and grabbed ahold of the back of his neck. His grey hair
was soft; I was surprised how it felt and wondered if I’d ever touched it
before. That thought stopped me for a second. Then I pushed down and shifted my
weight so I was right over him, so there was no chance he was coming up for
air. His hands flailed and he did get ahold of me once but he was drunk, old
and tired. He didn’t have a chance against his weakest, least successful son.
It was over in about a minute.
I
stood up and looked at Carl who was still in his chair. I shivered when we made
eye contact.
“What
should I do?”
“Toss
him all the way in the water. I’ll call it an accident and the cops’ll agree.
He was a lifelong drunk who went swimming on his dead wife’s birthday.”
“Can’t
believe I did that,” I said.
“I
guess that makes you the strong one and not Billy.”
“Too
bad we can’t tell him.”
