Pending
A man walks into a restroom, pulling on his son's hand. At places such as these, there are always people coming and going, merely a short stop on the way to their final destination. They leave their mark, a part of themselves, and then they're gone, like dust particles in the wind. It is a stop where all is left pending, based on reaching that destination.
“I don't know why you couldn't just hold it until we got there, Mike. I swear it seems you do these things on purpose. I'm hardly going to be able to get you settled at the house before I have to take off for a meeting.”
“Meeting? But . . . you said we were on a vacation and were going to do fun things together and spend time together. You promised.”
“I couldn't tell them no, Mike. We talked about this. You know how long I've been waiting for this opportunity.”
“But it's so far away, Dad. Now I'm never going to see you.”
“You're going to be staying with me now, buddy, just like we always planned. Isn't that great? . . . What now? Why are you crying? Stop your crying. We can talk about this later.”
“That's not fair, dad. What about mom? What about all my friends?”
“If you want to see me more, then you've got to make a choice. We've been planning this for years, don't you remember? We're almost there, Mike, we're almost there . . . after all these years.”
“No, dad, I want to go home.”
The man grew rigid and cold. “It's too late for that now, Mike. The arrangements have already been made. You're staying with me. Period. I'm going to get you some McDonalds. Meet me out there.” The dad was gone and the little boy remained.
A man left the bathroom stall. “He just doesn't get it, does he, Mike?”
“It doesn't matter. He'll never understand. I'm so stupid. I believed him.”
“Do you want me to take you back to you mom's? Your mom's probably going nuts right now, not knowing where you are. Your dad didn't tell her he was taking you. He just took you and he doesn't plan on letting you go back.”
“But . . . why? Why wouldn't he . . . “
“Because he doesn't get it, Mike. He just doesn't get it.”
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Almondie Shampine lives in New York with her two children. She has had two books published, and currently freelances full-time for magazines and newspapers. Visit http://www.helium.com/ for more information.
Photograph taken by Gerny.
