Sunflowers

by Melodie Starkey

  “Do you remember the day he gave you a straw to teach you how to blow bubbles in your milk?”

  She nodded.

  “And you told him the trick was to blow them all of the way to the top of the cup without spilling any over?”

  She nodded again.

  “And when you told him his felt pen tattoo was awesome?”

  “It was.”

  “He was testing you.”

  She frowned. “Testing?”

  “Awhile back, he suggested we should get a new mom. Those were some of the things I told him moms didn’t allow. Do you see? Do you see how you were impacting our lives?”

  She began to cry silently. He handed her his handkerchief and leaned back in his chair, waiting for her to pull herself together. After several minutes, she finally sniffled down enough to say, “I should’ve known about you from the start.”

  “About me?”

  “That you were too… I’m sorry.” She stood up. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Either of you. I’m sorry.” Then she rushed out. He didn’t rise to follow.

  Chapter 17

  A few days later he discovered her photograph on the university’s faculty website. He saved it to his desktop, opening it occasionally when Sam was asleep to stare at it.

  One day as he was sorting laundry he came across the folded remains of one of Maureen’s photos in Sam’s jeans. He finished loading the washer, then sought the boy out where he was hiding in the fort he had built under the dining room table, using several bed sheets and the books from the encyclopedia for weights.

  “Can I come in?”

  “What’s the secret word?”

  “Open sesame!”

  “No, Silly, my secret word!”

  “Mayonnaise.”

  “Right!”

  Gus smiled. They had spent the whole previous evening’s dinner discussing this miracle condiment and why it was better than catsup on fish sticks but not good for hot dogs. He crawled into the fort carefully, barely fitting next to Frodo’s stretched out snoring form and the pile of throw pillows from the couch, plus the books, tablets, crayons, binoculars, box of Ritz crackers, empty and full juice boxes, and Sam’s bedding. “How long you planning on staying here?”

  “We’re goin’ to the moon. Takes about three weeks, I think.”

  “Ah. Well, while you’re traveling, mind if we have a serious talk?”

  “Kay. ‘Bout what?”

  “Moms.”

  Sam lay down and rolled onto his back up against Frodo. “Isn’t Sarah our friend any more?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “I liked her a lot.”

  Gus nodded. “So did I. But she lives in Chicago. Has her work and her friends there.”

  “Her boyfriend.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I didn’t like him.”

  “Why not?”

  Sam shrugged. “He’s prob’ly a bully or something.”

  “I don’t think so. He’s a teacher. A college teacher. That’s what Sarah is, too. Did you know?”

  “Teachers are nice, huh?”

  “Yes. Teachers are usually pretty nice people. Not as nice as dads, of course.”

  Sam giggled and crawled into his lap. Gus hugged him tightly, then murmured, “Buddy I know sometimes you wish you had a mom around. I feel like that, too. But we gotta make sure we wait for the right person. Lots of bad eggs out there, you know?”

  “Daddy, how come we don’t got a gramma or grampa?”

  “We do. You have a couple of aunts, too. They definitely fall into the bad egg category. Do you want to meet them some time, so you can see why we’ve got to be careful?”

  “Really?”

  “Sure. I’ll track them down if you really want.”

  “Will they be mean to me?”

  “Nah. Just to me, and I’m bigger than all of them now. Plus I have more money. That matters when you’re a grown up.”

  “I got fourteen dollars.”

  “See? We’re made in the shade.”

  Sam considered this, then suggested, “Maybe Frodo better come, ‘case he needs to bite ‘em.”

  “I’m thinking we’ll leave Frodo at home for this one. If they need to be bitten, I’ll bite them. I promise.”

  After another giggle, Sam asked, “Will you make me some fish sticks?”

  “We had fish sticks for dinner.”

  “We got that giant box of ‘em.”

  “If I make fish sticks, will you promise to eat your vegetables?”

  “Lima beans?”

  “Okay. Another hug first.”

  Chapter 18

  Sam didn’t even protest having to wear a dress shirt and slacks, a sure sign he was nearly as nervous as Gus was about this visit. They inspected each other and exchanged knuckle bumps and high fives, then headed out to the car. “What should I call ‘em?” Sam asked.

  “Until they tell you something else, stick with ‘sir’ and ‘ma’am,’ okay?”

  “‘Kay. Is that what you call ‘em?”

  “Yes, now. When I was little I called them Mom and Dad.”

  “How come we don’t visit them before?”

  “They’re mad at me.”

  “‘Cause of me?”

  Gus pulled the car over to the curb. “Why would you think that?”

  Sam just shrugged, not looking at him.

  “They got mad at me about ten years before you were even born. They thought I was a rotten kid. They don’t even know about you at all. Never met your mom. It’s just me, okay?”

  “‘Kay.”

  “We don’t have to do this,” Gus offered.

  “I think we better get it over with.”

  Gus smiled. This was what he always told Sam about dental visits. “Okay, let’s do it then.”

  They had moved to the far west suburb of Oswego, where all the cookie cutter houses spread out across the flat landscape in every direction behind a main drag of strip malls anchored to large department and grocery stores. “How come they ain’t got any trees?” Sam asked.

  “It’s just too new yet. This used to all be cornfields when I was growing up. Then they built all these new houses. The trees will grow up in a few years.” He remembered when he was still the darling son—his father had brought him out here in the winter to hunt ducks. His father deemed Gus the worst gunman ever, and even took him to have his eyes checked. Gus would never admit he thought killing animals was wrong.

  “I think this is the street here.” He stopped in front of the house and took several deep breaths.

  “Daddy?”

  Gus smiled reassuringly. “You ready?”

  “Daddy, if they’re mean to you, I won’t like them. We’ll just leave, okay?”

  “Thank you. Let’s go.” He helped Sam out of his booster seat, then held his hand and walked to the door with him. He rang the bell and smoothed his hair nervously before taking Sam’s hand again.

  The door opened, revealing his father, who looked smaller and grayer than he remembered, but just as joyless. “Hello.”

  “Why are you here?” the man said coldly.

  “Sam wanted to meet you. This is Sam.” He gestured.

  The man looked down, surprise spreading across his face. “Yours?”

  “Yes.”

  Sam was examining him critically.

  “Well, get in here, then. Why didn’t you call?”

  “I was afraid,” he answered honestly. “Um, here.” He handed over the box of goodies he’d had Frank pack for them.

  “Thank you. Evelyn! You need to come down here!” He turned back to them. “She just went to lie down. You missed lunch. Boy need to eat?”

  “No. Thank you.”

  Suddenly his father squatted in front of Sam and smiled—something Gus couldn’t ever remember seeing directed at anything except the television. “Sam? How old are you, Sam?”

  “I’m gonnta be six in October. I c’n read. I c’n make my bed. I got a dog. He’s super bi
g.”

  “Well! That’s great! You in school then?”

  “Not today. I don’t go to school on Saturday and Sunday ‘cause the teacher needs a rest. Teachin’ is real hard work.”

  This made the man laugh just as his wife entered, saying, “Where’s the fire?” Then she froze, her eyes locking first on Gus, then taking in Sam. “Where’s his mother?” She asked coldly.

  “Gone. Since he was little.”

  “You here to try to unload him on us?” she guessed.

  “Of course not! He wanted to meet you. His friends all have grandparents they know.” Sam had moved closer to his leg, sensing the tension.

  “Sam here is in school. He’s a real clever boy. And he has a dog,” the man informed his wife.

  She finally looked at the child, her expression softening some. “He’s too skinny. Don’t you feed him right? Come on, Sam. Grandma will make you a ham sandwich. You like ham?”

  Sam looked at his father, who smiled, so he answered, “Long as you don’t got green eggs.”

  “Green…? Oh!” She laughed, leading the way to the kitchen.

  As they settled around the table, Mr. Moore asked Gus, “You need a job? Money?”

  “No. Really. I’m fine. We’re just visiting.”

  “So what are you doing these days?”

  “I work at home. Computer programming. That way I’m home with Sam. I’ve had sole custody since he was a baby.”

  “Your sister Jean has a girl,” Mrs. Moore noted.

  “Really?”

  “She’s two. She couldn’t wait to get back to work. Dump her with a bunch of strangers full of germs. That baby is sick with something every time you turn around.”

  Gus nodded. “I noticed when Sam started school he was forever catching colds and viruses.”

  “I got bumps at my birthday,” Sam informed them.

  “Chicken pox. I cancelled his party, even though all the neighbor moms assured me it was okay to expose their kids so they could just get it over with.”

  “Oh my. Did he get them as bad as you did?”

  Gus raised his eyebrow. “I don’t remember having them.”

  “Oh Lord! You remember, Pete?”

  His father chuckled. “Every inch of you. Your eyelids. Your scalp. Inside your ears. All over your willie. Oh, and you kep’ digging at your crack like you were full of worms. Doctor ended up sedating you so’s you could sleep.”

  His mother chuckled, too. “Liz got them at the same time. She maybe had ten spots, total.”

  “That is so like her,” Gus muttered.

  They both laughed.

  As Sam worked through his sandwich, he pulled the top crust off of the bread. Mrs. Moore finally said, “Not a crust eater, huh?”

  He stopped and looked at his plate. “I c’n eat it. I just forgot. At home I give that part to Fro. He’s my dog. He’s my best friend. If you come to my house, you can meet him.”

  “What sort of dog is he?” she asked.

  Gus recalled years of begging for a pet and being told they were dirty. How would she like knowing how often Sam slept nestled against the big dog? “Saint Bernard. He’s big, but real calm and gentle. Perfect nursemaid.”

  “Saint Bernard! Well! How do you feed something like that?”

  “With a very large bowl. And a fair share of bread crusts snuck under the table against the rules.”

  Sam smiled. “That’s the rules, but I never get a time out for it ‘cause he does it, too.”

  “You look just like your daddy used to!” she suddenly exclaimed.

  Sam perked up. “Really? You got pitchers of him?”

  “You know what, I do. Finish up there while I go find them.” She scurried out.

  Gus and his father exchanged a conspiratorial look, then reached for quarters of Sam’s mostly uneaten sandwich.

  They stayed for over two hours. Other than informing him he needed to get a haircut and following them to the car to be sure they put on their seatbelts, his mother managed to contain her critical tongue. She gave Sam a handful of photographs of Gus as a child, and had Gus take several pictures of Sam sitting between the two of them on the couch. He didn’t let it bother him that she wasn’t interested in any new pictures of him. He gave his father his business card with their address written on the back and said, “I’m home most all the time. Please come see us.”

  His father studied it for a moment, then nodded a little and extended his hand to shake. “You’ve done well, Gus.”

  “Thanks.”

  When they were in the car, Sam said, “I think they were nice. You don’t have to not be friends anymore now.”

  “Yes. They’re definitely nicer now. I’m glad they like you so much.”

  Sam shrugged. “Ever‘body likes me.”

  Gus laughed. “Yes they do.”

  Chapter 19

  Gus spent much of April and May helping Frank remodel the old café he had leased into a coffee shop/bakery. They included a separate supervised tea party room for children, which provided employment for Craig’s girlfriend, and thrilled the local moms. Once the shop opened in June, Jordan became a fairly regular fixture around their house, although Craig was technically babysitting and did call to “ask” Gus each time before actually abandoning his duties.

  One rainy afternoon, as he was teaching the boys how to fold the laundry, Gus was suddenly struck anew with the circumstances of his life. How had he gone from a nonconformist nothing-can-tie-me-down free man to being a domestic goddess? Did he regret it? He looked at Sam and Jordan and Frodo with bath towels tied around their necks super-hero style. No, he wouldn’t trade them for the world. If only… He shook his head quickly. It had been weeks since he had last meditated on her picture. Maybe tonight he would delete it. Or at least move it to the recycle bin.

  They should take a vacation. Would Frank and Ellen let him take Jordan to Michigan for a few days? Probably. Disney World? Maybe. Would he want to go there, especially in summer? Not really. What about the ocean? He had always wanted to go to the ocean as a child, but had never gotten around to actually doing it once he was old enough to take himself there. California? South Carolina? Not Florida. Maybe Oregon. Either direction was going to involve long travel, especially for two little guys. Still…

  He turned them loose with a bowl of pretzels, travel mugs of apple juice, and the movie Ice Age on DVD. After surfing several tourist oriented sites, he decided Oregon looked most like what he had in mind. Big rocks with breakers crashing around them, stretches of beach with people wearing sweatshirts instead of bathing suits, lots of evergreens and so-not-Illinois mountains right up to the coast. They could fly into Portland, stay there one day and visit the zoo, and then drive down the coast for a couple of nights at one of the resorts. He called Ellen at work.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked anxiously.

  “Not at all. I just wanted to ask a couple of favors.”

  “Of course. We owe you a few.”

  “I’m going to Oregon for maybe a week. Any chance you guys can take Frodo?”

  “Of course. We love him! How ‘bout Sam? Staying with your parents?”

  “No. Sam’s coming with me. That’s my next favor. Can Jordan come along, too? So they can sort of bounce off of each other?”

  “You want to take two hyper little boys on that long a trip? Business?”

  “No. It’s a vacation. We’re going to have a look at the ocean. We’ll check in every single day. Wear life vests if we get too close to the water. Moderate our alcohol and pornography consumption.”

  She laughed. “Okay, okay! If you’re sure.”

  Chapter 20

  Gus lay stretched out on his stomach on the dry sand, pursing his lips tight and squinting his eyes as Sam and Jordan poured buckets of sand over him to bury him. This was his penance for making them eat all of their fish and chips at lunch or they couldn’t have pie.

  “We need to draw a map so we can remember where we buried him,” Jordan
suggested.

  “May I remind you who has the keys to the hotel room and the car in his pocket,” Gus commented.

  “I wish Fro was here to dig him up,” Sam added. “‘Member when Fro dug up all Mrs. McGreevy’s flowers?” This sent both of them into fits of laughter.

  Suddenly they jumped up and moved back from him. “What?” he asked.

  “Uh oh,” Jordon mumbled.

  “What?” he asked again, starting to raise up on his arms and then feeling the hot wetness penetrate the sand at the same time a large cold nose sniffed his face. He bounced to his feet, brushing the sand off as the golden retriever barked happily at him. “You peed on me!” Gus informed the dog.

  Sam quickly tried to come to the rescue. “He prob’ly didn’t see you.”

  “Well he saw you! Why’d you let him pee on me?”

  “I forgot.”

  “You forgot that I don’t like being peed on, or you forgot that when male dogs lift their legs, that’s a big clue?”

  “I’m sorry! Don’t be mad!” Sam wrapped his arms around his sandy legs.

  He took a deep breath, then knelt and embraced both boys. “It’s okay. Not your fault. Look, I’m going to take a fast run into the water. I want you two to come right down to the edge, but don’t go in, all right? Can you promise you won’t try to follow me in?”

  They nodded and took his hands. When they reached the foam line, he reiterated, “This is far enough. I’ll be right back. Do not move. Okay?”

  They nodded again, moving closer to each other and watching him as he backed into the waves so he could keep them in sight. When he was waist deep, he crouched down and quickly rubbed his body with his hands. Just as he started to stand, a huge wave broke over the top of him, knocking him flat. He grabbed at the shifting bottom with both hands and held his breath, waiting for the water to retreat, telling himself, Don’t panic. Stay still. Just as he was about to disobey himself and start flailing about, the water lightened above him, and he rose to his knees to be greeted by the now even colder and wetter nose of the big dog. He could hear the distant sounds of children screaming. He smiled at the dog as he rose to his feet, saying, “You pretending to rescue me so I’ll forgive you? Let’s get out of here.” He quickly raised his arm to wave at the boys so they would know he was all right, then wrapped his hand around the collar of the swimming dog and led it ashore.