A Father's Dreams

by Andrew Petoski

  “Yeah.”

  The sun beats down on us and throws tiny little rainbows through the water droplets still strewn about the yard until it slowly evaporates them. Looking down I see that Matt has begun to get a little red from being out in the sun and water. Damn, I forgot to put on the sunscreen.

  “Come on let’s go in where it’s cool and play a game after I make some food for us,” I tell him.

  We go inside, and I beeline it to the bathroom, not to go but to grab the anti-burn cream. Walking back to Matt waiting in the kitchen I prep my empty hand with the solution.

  “Gotta put this on ya real quick bud or you won’t be able to sleep tonight,” I take the cream and lather it all over the redness that is beginning to show more. I just hope to hell it doesn’t blister or peel. I would feel like such a failure, but I think I caught it just in time. Handing him one of my white shirts I tell him to put it on and he does, so proudly floating in it like a champ.

  With Matt taken care of now I set the oven to preheat for a pizza and then go into the side drawer and pull out a deck of cards. We sit at the table across from each other, and I begin to shuffle.

  “So would you like to play war or go-fish?”

  “War!” he exclaims.

  I finish shuffling and then deal out the entire deck. Just as I’m finishing the deal the oven dings and I get up to put the pizza in.

  “Pepperoni stuffed crust good for you?” I ask.

  “Sure is,” says Matt.

  I take the pizza out of its box from the freezer and look at the time it takes to cook. Twenty-four minutes, that should be enough time to finish one or two games of war. I put the pizza in, set the timer and return to the table where Matt already has his first card flipped the queen of spades and a smile along with it knowing I probably won’t be able to beat it.

  Sure enough I straighten my cards and flip over and eight of clubs. He quickly takes the cards with delight and flips again. We go back and forth, but he’s clearly beating me with having the majority of the face cards in the deck. It’s only a matter of time before my flipping comes to an end.

  The oven dings again saving me from my inevitable end. I gladly get up and away from the game to pluck the hot pie from the oven.

  “Well I think it’s obvious you win so let’s put the cards away and eat,” I say.

  “HA, I win,” he says excitedly putting the cards back into the deck. I cut the pizza and put two slices for each of us on plates and grab a couple sodas from the fridge.

  “Here ya go,” I say handing him the soda and pizza. “Just don’t tell your mom I’m giving you caffeine. Let’s go into the living room and you can pick out a movie to watch while we eat before you go to bed.”

  I sit in my chair and he rummages through all the movies in the cabinet next to the TV looking for that one that’s just right and most likely long as all hell so he gets to stay up, or at least try. Looking outside, the streetlamps begin to flicker on as we settle in.

  He ends up picking out his favorite cartoon show DVD that I got for him. There’s about six episodes on the disc or about three hours of programming.

  Sitting on the floor in front of me, he hits play on the controller and turns up the volume ever so slightly, then again, to see how much he can get away with. I say nothing to see how loud he’ll push it, but he goes no further.

  The pizza is soon gone, and I take our plates and empty soda cans back to the kitchen. Just setting the plates in the sink was fine with me, I’ll take care of them in the morning. The cans I toss out and I head back into the living room.

  Matt was curled up on the couch now under my blanket and beginning to doze off. I kiss him on the forehead and say, “Goodnight buddy,” in his ear.

  Sitting on the couch by his legs I drape my arm over his frail body and he pinches my hand between my thumb and index finger until he falls asleep. Deciding whether I should keep him here or put him in bed was a big quandary for me.

  Opting to take him to bed, I carry him down the hall with my blanket and lay him down on my bed. I lay facing him and watch his eyes as they dream and his little mouth pursed as he breathes softly. His rhythm puts me to ease and I watch for as long as I can before drifting off myself.

  The beer and whiskey catch up to my bladder and I’m awoken. No children, no laughter, nobody sleeping in the other room, just me and the radio, which I now turn off.

  It’s starting to get late, but there’s no way I can sleep just yet coming out of that nap. So I head to the garage to tinker with the carburetor of my 67’.

  Playing the radio and drowning out my dreams of children with beer I continue my work. Looking up, it’s pushing ten thirty so I have to turn down the radio so I don’t get another one of those stupid noise complaints from the neighbors. It’s a good neighborhood, but all those working families and old retirees really like their sleep. I doubt they enjoy theirs as much as mine though, as I get to escape to a place where my dreams of being a father are fulfilled.

  Continuing to drink, I soon forget what I was suppose to be doing with the carburetor and find myself unable to stumble back into the house. I settle for sitting down in the car and passing out there around two in the morning.

  2

  Hadley is six now and prettier than ever. Sitting on the bench with all the other parents I watch her as she listens to her swim instructor outside the pool demonstrating the stroke technique they’ll be using today. The instructor is showing them how to lift their elbow really high out of the water and reach as far forward as possible while dragging their fingertips across the top of the water.

  Instruction is now complete and it’s time for practice. Some of the students hesitate to get in but Hadley leaps into the water with her black one piece and pops right back up next to the wall after pushing off the bottom. She holds on and waits for the “go” signal.

  The instructor blows their whistle and she takes off. The girl kicks underwater for about eight yards then starts her stroke. Her fingertips are gliding over the top of the water and she is second in the pack. Hadley catches up quick, turns, but again she loses a little ground during her stroke on the long laps.

  Her practice laps are done and she waves and smiles towards me as she waits for her friends to finish. I show my pride with a soft clap and a thumbs-up back towards her. The swim team continues practicing their pull techniques for about the next fifteen minutes. Most of the other parents are on their phones playing games or trying to keep their younger ones in line, appearing somewhat patient. I don’t get why they bring their toddlers to practice as there is a daycare just down the hall that is free if you have a child in a program such as swimming. On the other hand, I completely get it because I want to spend every moment I can with my darlings.

  Today is the first day they will be using the diving blocks to practice their starts. The instructor has the children line up next to the blocks and they begin practice diving from the side of the pool, trying to get them used to long shallow dives next to the blocks before actually going up on them for the first time. Everyone got about five dives in before the instructor blew their whistle to get everyone’s attention.

  “And now it is time to take that same technique we’ve just been using and put it up on the blocks. Hadley will demonstrate for us the two techniques you can use. Hadley come over to lane one please, and everyone else line up on the side by me so you can watch,” the instructor announces. She’s using Hadley for the demonstration! That’s awesome, but man I can’t imagine how hard that little heart is pumping knowing everyone will be watching her, afraid of making the slightest mistake and embarrassing herself.

  “First, Hadley will demonstrate the staggered stance, Hadley approach the block.” She walks up to the block and places her hands on either side. “Mount the block.” Hadley carefully steps up. “Now everyone look at her feet, the one foot is out forward and toes curled on the front of the block while the other is staggered back like a sprinter’s start. Hadley take your mark.” Had
ley leans forward and grabs the front lip of the diving block. “Hold there Hadley. See how she reaches down and grabs the block? She’s now ready to dive off. Go ahead Hadley,” Hadley launches off the block into a shallow dive and lets herself glide to a stop in front of the other students after she finished kicking straight to gain some distance before reaching the surface. All the students and even some of the parents that were paying attention clapped for her.

  “See how she let go and then pushed off? That’s the final step. Don’t hang on or you’ll end up diving too deep or falling in. Now everyone get behind your blocks and let’s practice this first stance until it’s free time,” the instructor announces. Hadley gets out of the pool and the instructor pats her shoulder for a good job as she passes and heads back to the line.

  There were about ten minutes left of diving block practice before the Instructor blew her whistle and bellowed, “Free Time!” All the kids, including Hadley, ran over to the side lockers. “WALK!” the instructor yelled. The kids slowed down, but not much. Soon they had the cabinets open and were grabbing balls, noodles, and diving rings. Hadley went for a couple of the diving rings then walked back over to the deep end which was about twelve feet.

  Hadley walks out to the edge of the diving board and tosses in her three diving rings, spreading them out evenly. She walks back to the beginning of the board then makes her approach. She jumps once on the board and then dives in. I watch as she glides her way along the bottom in search of her buried treasure. She comes back up with two of the three and immediately re-submerges to pick up the last one.

  Hadley repeats this process about four times before the whistle blows and the lesson is finished. I pick up her towel next to me, a large beach towel, blue with a sea anchor embroidered on it, and get up to start walking her direction. She’s sopping wet but I accept her gracious hug eagerly.

  “Great job baby,” I say embracing her.

  “Thanks daddy,” she replies.

  “Your dives were awesome,” I tell her while wrapping her up in the towel. “Now don’t forget to shampoo your hair when you shower.”

  “I won’t.” “Okay, I’ll meet you outside the locker room by the vending machines.”

  “Okay, see you there,” she responds and then walks off towards the girls’ locker room. Man has she grown. It wasn’t that long ago that I was wiping her butt and giving her bottles every night. I wonder at the thought of her growing and not needing me anymore in the future but hold it back and walk out into the hall to wait.

  She is there about fifteen minutes later coming out with one of her friends, chattering away. Following behind her I listen as the two are talking, something about a new game that came out that apparently everyone at school is playing now. We get to the front door and Hadley gives her friend a hug good bye.

  Walking outside the sun beams down on us, and it is blinding compared to the lighting in the building. My eyes adjust, and I offer to take Hadley’s swim bag. She hands it over to me, and we head across the street toward the truck. Only unlocking my door I toss the bag into the back and then lock the doors with us still outside.

  “Aren’t we going?” Hadley asks. Walking over to the bed of the truck I pull out two fishing poles and a small tackle box.

  “Nah, I think we’ll stay around here for a while. How about it? Want to go fishing?”

  “Sure, but I’m kinda hungry,” Hadley tells me. Handing her the fishing poles I again reach into the bed of the truck and pull out a shoulder cooler. “Alright we can go now,” she says.

  The river is about three blocks away from the pool where she has her lessons, an easy walk for the two of us. On the way we inspect all the houses we passed and point out which aspects of them were our favorite. Mine were the houses with a front porch on the right side and a sunroom connected on the left. If they were made of brick that was a definite bonus. Hadley enjoyed the ones that had nice color trim, flowers in the yard, and windowsills.

  It’s not long, and we have made it to our destination. A bridge spans the river making it one of the main roads in town to traverse banks. Beneath the bridge, running along the bank, is a public walk with blue railings. We walk down the small hill to the walkway and set up shop under the bridge, away from the heat of the sun.

  Hadley, without hesitation, gets a worm out right away and begins to bait her hook. Nothing makes that girl squirm. She’s like a cat when it comes to bugs and critters, if she sees one she just has to have it, either dead or alive depending on what the little guy is. She casts into the river and sets the end of her rod into a hole in the concrete standing upright. I raise my pole.

  “Do you mind baiting mine as well?” I ask.

  “Not at all,” grabbing another worm she baits my hook and then casts for me as well. That’s the whole reason I asked her to bait it because her reflexes just make her have to take that cast. Plus I know she enjoys whipping out those little wigglers into the water. She plants my rod into the next hole about ten feet away then comes back and sits with me on the walk.

  I hand over the cooler to her and she peers in.

  “There’s peanut butter and jelly or ham sandwiches to start. After that you can grab whichever bag of chips you want and a juice,” I let her know. She stares in the bag for a few moments pondering then takes out the ham sandwich. Reaching in, I take the PB&J. We eat together in silence, our mouths full and her exhausted from lessons.

  My pocket jingles, “Oh, I almost forgot,” I reach into my shirt pocket and pull out two little bells on clips. “Here,” I hand them to Hadley. “Go clip them on to the tips of the poles. They’ll ring when there’s a fish on. Just be sure to not clip them to the line too, just the pole.”

  Hadley shakes them a little first, listening to the sound they make so that she recognizes it when they go off. Then she jumps up and walks over to my pole first, attaches the little bell to the end and then comes back to hers and does the same.

  Just as she sits back down next to me her pole jingles with the new bell.

  “GO, grab it!” I exclaim. Hadley jumps back up frantically and grabs her pole. I loosened the reel tension so the little bluegills would seem like they’re giving more of a fight than they really are, which just makes it more fun for her. Not more than thirty seconds pass and the fish is on the walk with us. Hadley holds up her line with the fish on the end to show me her prize.

  “Can you get it off the hook or you need help?” I ask.

  “Is this the kind of fish that has the pokers on it?”

  “Yes it is.”

  “Umm, you do it,” she says.

  “Okay,” I walk over and make sure to grasp the top and bottom together ensuring its fins don’t get me stabbed. I wriggle out the barbed hook and let the line hang. “Would you like to kiss it before it goes back in?”

  “Sure,” she set down the rod and comes to plant a fishy kiss. “Bye.”

  I release the fish back into the river and we watch as it swims down into the depths. Hadley keeps watching to see if it comes back up into view. While she’s distracted I grab another worm and bait her hook. She turns back around and I hand her the pole. She looks at the worm and thanks me.

  “Go ahead, cast again,” I say. “Wait take the bell off first then put it back on after you cast so it doesn’t go flying.”

  Taking the bell off, she places it in her pocket then casts halfway across the river. Sure its only like fifteen yards but I can tell it makes her feel accomplished. She walks back, and I have her bag of chips and drink waiting for her.

  She takes them and pops the bag open promptly. She crunches away as my bell begins to ring. Without even looking she just points over to it to tell me to get up off my darn butt and get it. I chuckle and comply with her indication. The fish has no chance, but I loosen up the reel even more so I can really crank on it for dramatics without really having the line go out or in. Hadley hoots for me.

  “Go dad, you can get him,” I plant the rod under my stomach and dig into the strug
gle. After about two minutes I tighten up the reel a little and get the flopper on shore. Hadley cheers. Exaggerating I wipe the sweat off my brow and hunch over.

  “I got this one,” Hadley says coming over to help.

  “Not without gloves you don’t. Go in the box and grab them. This is a pricker one too,” I let her know.

  Hadley goes to the tackle box and pulls out a pair of leather gloves a little big for her but still manages them well enough. She comes over and picks up the fish.

  “Hey little fishy, let me get that hook outta there for you,” she tells the bluegill. Hadley works the hook out and then sends him back into the water. I Love fishing with the girl, but we are a catch and release family. It’s just that there are plenty of fish in the store to eat so why take more from nature than what’s already available.

  Twilight comes and it’s time for the fun to end.

  I awake in the car with the sun just beginning to glow in the garage. The buzz has passed and I get out and head for the house. Eggs and bacon are calling my name in the kitchen and will soon be mine.

  Taking out the iron skillet I set the gas to medium low and put the pan on. A couple tablespoons of butter and it’ll be ready by time I’m done getting the coffee going. Liking it strong and black I always put extra grinds in and let the burner go for a while evaporating some of the water to make it even stronger. That stuff will really put hair on your chest, at least that’s what my granddad always told me.

  Barely pressing the brew button the smoke and sizzle from the pan let’s me know to change tasks. Two eggs and four pieces of bacon are taken from the fridge because who doesn’t like bacon? The bacon goes on first, because I like to make my eggs in a little extra fat. I’m sure my doctor would disagree with my diet, but man it’s good.

  Setting the table for one I set the stove to a simmer to keep the meal warm. No TV or papers in the morning, or evening for that matter. I like to stay away from the media as its either all negative or objectified for someone’s political interests. Plating my meal and grabbing a cup of brew, I sit at the table and crack the window open. The October breeze hits me and steams the plate. A pinch of salt and I dig in.