The Presence

by Shady Grim

  “Are you happy, Ethan?”

  “What do yeh mean?”

  “Come on, you know what I mean. Are you happy with the way your life turned out?”

  “I guess.”

  “What about all of those big dreams you used to have? Remember when you wanted to be a ghost hunter?” I laughed.

  “Yeah, I still think that would be cool, but what I’m doin’ now is about all I’m good for. I’m not really smart enough for school or anythin’.”

  “That’s bullshit. You could make it in school if you applied yourself.”

  “I can’t afford to keep a family and go to school too, but I’m still thinkin’ about startin’ a construction business, just somethin’ small. I can do a little bit of everythin’. I just can’t afford to go out on my own full-time. I’ve been doin’ some side-work when I can get it, but I need a lot of tools and supplies that I can’t afford. I’ve been pickin’ up a few bucks here and there fixin’ cars and doin’ odd jobs. If I could get it all together, I think I could make a good livin’.”

  “You know, Fitzie was talking about pretty much the same thing. Maybe you guys could be partners.”

  “Who’s Fitzie?”

  “You know, Gerald Fitzgerald...old Mrs. Fitzgerald’s son.”

  “Oh yeah, I remember him. Why do people do that to their kids? Do they think a name like that is funny or somethin’?”

  “I don’t know, I think it’s kind of cruel. Kids with names like that always get the crap beat out of them. Anyway, he was in my office the other day, and he was talking about starting a business. He works with his older brother, Byron–”

  “Byron? Damn there’re some rotten names in that family.”

  “It was good enough for Lord Byron.”

  “That’s not another one of yer fruity friends, is it?” he asked sourly.

  “No...um, you really should read more.”

  “I read loads o’ stuff. I just read a news article about a woman who had a three-headed baby. She gave each head a different name. It was sad, poor kid...or kids.”

  “Um...I stand corrected.” I did not want to get lured into a discussion about Ethan’s crazy hobbies, so I immediately put the subject back on track. “I don’t know what kind of work he does, but Fitzie hates it. He wants to do something else, and I know he works with his hands. Maybe he’d like a partner. It’s worth a try.”

  Gradually I worked my way into asking him about his home life and if he had any regrets. I had to broach the subject several times over the course of a few months before he gave me an answer. He said he wanted out, but he had no way of doing it without losing Emily. He didn’t have the money for an attorney and he didn’t have the energy to fight with Kelly. He knew if he left her, he’d have no place to go and wouldn’t be able to take Emmy with him. If Kelly had custody of Emily, she’d make sure Ethan never saw her again. I offered to help him with an attorney, but he refused. He just didn’t feel that he could fight anymore, and he was tired of owing me. He admitted that he had been unfair with me and didn’t want Emmy growing up thinking that it’s okay to expect others to fix her mistakes. He admitted that he was trying to quit drugs, but couldn’t kick the alcohol. He liked his beer too much. He told me that he was missing a lot of time from work and that his boss had threatened to fire him. I told him that his health would only worsen if he didn’t change his lifestyle. He had to make some changes, but he was the only one who could make the decision. I couldn’t do it for him. But he wasn’t ready; he had to hit bottom first. Change was something he had to do on his own. If I interfered too much, it would only wind up a repeat of the past, with him dumping all of his responsibilities on me.

  Ethan never did reach the point where he would finally make a stand. Kelly made the choice first. She’d been having an affair with a wealthier man for some months, and he finally asked her to live with him. She relinquished custody of Emily because her new boyfriend didn’t like children and refused to be responsible for her. Although it was the best possible outcome for both of them, the toll it took on Emily was heartbreaking. After all, Kelly was still her mother and Emmy was only eight. She had no understanding of the events that had taken place between her parents. All she wanted was to be with both of them and live happily ever after. And though Ethan had been planning to make a similar move as did Kelly, he was still going through all the psychological stages of separation. He had spent more than a decade of his life with this woman, and she was the mother of child. The sudden shock of an unexpected divorce coupled with his attempt at getting over addiction had a dramatic effect on his general health. I encouraged him to seek counseling, which he refused, and offered to make him a deal. He and Emily could stay with me until he was back on his feet. The house desperately needed work of all sorts, and I had been planning on hiring someone to fix it up anyway. After weighing his options for a few days, he agreed to the deal. I would pay for materials and take care of household expenses while paying him a small weekly wage. He didn’t want to take the wage because he felt he already owed me too much, but I knew fixing up the old house was going to be a huge undertaking, and so I insisted that he accept it. He decided to allow Emily to finish out the school year and then they would move in. He brought her to visit on the weekends to get her accustomed to the new surroundings. She was thrilled with the country setting, and took to the old house as though she’d been born in it. Ethan didn’t like to let her play outside. He was still nervous about what might be lurking in the woods. He insisted that there was an evil force living in them. I told him that he was just being paranoid and that Emmy had to play. He couldn’t keep her cooped up inside the house forever.

  She accepted the change in her environment quite well. Getting her to accept me was another story. She had heard the many arguments that her parents had over me and was very wary of me at first. When she realized that I wasn’t the ogre that her mother had described, and that I made no efforts to take her mother’s place, she started to become a little friendlier. It took a couple of months, but she came around. She may have felt the closeness that her father and I shared, or maybe it was because she was so much like him that she and I felt a similar bond. She was so much like Ethan that I felt the Hand of Time tap me on the shoulder when I saw her. She was the picture of him when she was a baby, but I thought she would have developed at least some of her mother’s traits. She was a miniature feminine Ethan. She shared all of his interests and talents and had exactly the same mannerisms and patterns of speech. She was like him in every way save one. Although her eyes were exact replicas of her father’s, they lacked the so distinctive twinkle that once dominated his face.

  Emily took an immediate liking to my dog, Thor, who cared little for the attention. He was not an ill-tempered animal, but he wasn’t the sort who liked to be petted, or hugged, or generally fussed over. He was a white St. Bernard of exceptional size even for the breed. He had a few dark-brown patches on his sides, and a nearly perfect mask on his face and ears. He had a large distinctive patch of white on the tip of his left ear. He was a very verbal animal, and I encouraged him to express himself. I liked him to be an independent thinker. I don’t like animals to be completely dependent on their owners. It’s unhealthy and impractical. Animals aren’t little toy soldiers whose only purpose in this world is to cater to the whims of humanity. I like to be secure in knowing that if I’m incapacitated in some way, my dog will be able to protect me and himself without needing to be given orders. I raised Thor from a tiny, six-week-old, fluffy, white bundle. Even as a young puppy he was verbal and grouchy. He’d been picked over in his litter because of a grumpy defiant nature that was so obvious even at such a young age. He was thought to have a bad temperament and his breeder was encouraged by several customers to have him euthanized. Thankfully his breeder refused such advice, and I found myself with an excellent and constant companion. He was aggressive, strong-willed, intelligent, and highly perceptive; the latter trait being a hallmark of the breed.

 
The other member of my household that Emmy took quite a liking to was my box turtle, Nicky. He was a wild turtle when the young son of one of my schoolmates found him and took him home. The boy took poor care of Nicky, and he soon became ill. He was taken away from the child and given to me. With his health restored and he being a native species to the area, I planned to release him into my vegetable garden as soon as the weather was warm enough. He spent the remainder of the winter and the early part of spring in his three-foot-by-five-foot enclosure on my heated back porch. Emily was very concerned for Nicky’s safety upon release, but after I assured her that we would continue to look after him, she made plans to fill his enclosure with guinea pigs once Nicky vacated it. He had grown accustomed to being cared for and so was quite happy to remain in the garden, keeping it clear of pests. He was so friendly that he ate from my hand. He knew my voice and would often come when called unless he had some urgent business, privy only to a turtle, which required his attention.

  The first thing Ethan and I decided to work on was the second-floor bathroom, which was in disrepair when we were children. After the bathroom was finished, we planned to update the kitchen. I had the plumbing and electricity updated before I moved back in and Ethan did nothing but rant over how I should’ve told him so he could’ve supervised. He complained about the quality of their work and how much of it he’d have to repair. I paid little attention to him because he always complained about the “shoddy” work of others, and I’d rarely seen anyone who was talented enough to satisfy his high standards. He’d picked up his meticulous work ethics from my father as it was he who had first put Ethan’s talented hands to useful occupation. I did agree with him on one point, I disliked the mess the workmen left behind. I’m sure they did so because of the general state of disrepair the house was in, but I thought it unprofessional just the same. Ethan was furious over the numerous holes they’d left in many of the walls, but I was unconcerned as most of the walls needed to be replaced or repaired anyway. Working together, it only took us a week and a half to get the bathroom finished.

  “The tub’s okay, but yeh’ll need a new sink and toilet.”

  “Good, I wanted to keep the tub.”

  “Yeh gotta help me move it out,” he said as he stood to take an end of the antique bathtub. “The wall behind it’s a total mess.”

  I’ve always thought myself to be fairly strong for my size, but if he hadn’t been able to take most of the weight, I would never have budged it. I was straining just to slide my end across the floor without too much friction. “I can remember when I was the stronger one,” I puffed.

  “Yeah, I remember when yeh were taller than me too. Where did those days go?”

  “I have to admit that, every now and then, it still shocks the hell out of me to see the man that you’ve become. It seems like only yesterday you were a scrawny little kid.”

  “I feel the same way sometimes, but yeh know what really blows my mind–aside from the grey hairs that I keep pickin’ out? When Emmy calls me, Dad, Every time I hear it I think to myself, ‘Oh my God, I’m a dad. Me, I’m a dad.’ It just kills me. So what are yeh gonna do with that stained glass thingy in the foyer?” Ethan had a particular talent for abrupt and unexpected changes of focus.

  “I don’t know. It’s pretty smashed up. There’re pieces of it all over the floor. If I knew someone who could do it, I guess I’d have it repaired.”

  “Well, yeh can’t get rid of it. Yer mom loved that thing. Besides it ain’t that busted up, I cleaned some of the dust off it and packed it up. I think it can be repaired.”

  “You packed it?”

  “Yeah, I found a guy who can fix it too. I gotta see ‘im tomorrow mornin’. I called in some favors so he’s squeezin’ me in. He’s supposed to be some kind of expert or somethin’. He’s real hard to get a hold of.” He did give me the long and complicated list of friends and acquaintances that he went through to get an appointment, but suffice it to say that Ethan has deals of all kinds going on all over the place and with all manner of persons. He left early the next morning. I started work on the kitchen, and I put Emmy to work scraping off old wallpaper.

  “Dad’s home!” she yelled when she heard his truck outside. She and Thor raced out the back door to greet him.

  “There’s nothin’ I like better than to see women put to work,” teased Ethan as he entered the kitchen with Emily on his hip and Thor walking behind him.

  “You weren’t gone very long. Is everything okay?”

  “All is cool,” he replied with a wave of his hand. “I told yeh he had to fit me in, so he really didn’t have a lotta time to spend with me. I pretty much just dropped the thing off. He did say it could possibly take a couple of months and that it could be expensive. I told ‘im that we’d spare no expense ‘cause it’s a tribute to our recently departed mother.”

  “You didn’t? That’s a horrible thing to say!”

  “The sympathy factor can be very important when yer cuttin’ a deal.”

  “You shouldn’t lie about a thing like that. It’s not right.”

  “Aunt Clare is actually dead, so that ain’t a lie. And we loved ‘er so much that it still feels like she just died yesterday. So I don’t see how yeh could call that a lie either.”

  “You said my mother was also your mother. How do you explain that one?”

  “Well, it’s a true fact that my mom and yer mom were sisters. That means they share exactly the same genetics so they’re practically the same person.”

  “So you’re telling me that you didn’t say a single untruth?”

  “Not one.”

  “I don’t mind the occasional little white lie, but it’s wrong to lie about a death, Ethan.”

  “So lies come in colors now? Please tell me more about this color-coded system. Yeh know what yer problem is? Yeh got no imagination, and this compulsive truth-telling of yers has to stop. It’s unhealthy.”

  “What’s it gonna look like?” chimed Emily as she cut in on our pseudo-argument. Ethan told her to fetch her sketch pad and pencils so he could draw it for her.

  “I’m glad one of us remembers what it looked like,” I said, sipping at my ice water.

  “Yeh don’t remember it? Aunt Claire loved that thing!” he snapped at me in a sudden change of mood.

  “Well, I’m sorry if that bothers you, but I never really paid much attention to it.”

  “Who’s Aunt Claire?” asked Emmy, appearing with her drawing kit.

  “She’s my mother,” I answered, glaring at Ethan, who innocently pulled out a chair and sat down to start his drawing.

  “Is she my aunt too?”

  “Oh yes, and my father is your Uncle Harry. I’ve got an old photo album in my bedroom somewhere. I think it’s in the closet...”

  “I know where it is,” she shouted as she raced down the hall and up the stairs to fetch it.

  “It would seem that she’s already been in your closet,” spoke Ethan rather haughtily and with uncharacteristically perfect diction. He sat up straight, pursed his lips, and pretended to be peering through a pair of spectacles. He called this imitation “The Academic” and had often performed it to the extreme irritation of some of my college friends. Personally, I thought it was funny. “I haven’t done that imitation since...uh...lemme see...oh shit!..since yeh had the apartment. I didn’t think it was that long. Remember when I came to yer Halloween party dressed as a ballerina?”

  “How could I forget a six-foot-six ballerina in a pink tutu? It was one of the few times that you managed to embarrass me.”

  “That ain’t easy, yeh know. Yer a pretty tolerant person.”

  “Yeah, well I thought it was funny until you started to flirt with the couple from across the hall.”

  “Oh yeah, that gay couple. What were their names again?”

  “Gregory and Michael.”

  “And whose lap was I sittin’ on?”

  “Michael’s.”

  “Yeah, they were fun. Those were the d
ays.” He stared into space and slowly shook his head in remembrance.

  “You almost broke them up. I had to do a lot of apologizing for you.” I wagged my finger at him in mock reprimand.

  “That just shows how insecure their relationship was. If anybody knows about bad relationships, it’s me.” He went back to his drawing for a moment and then stopped to talk again. “I was gonna wear a brunette wig, but I thought it made me look trampy, so I went with the strawberry blonde. I shoulda known to stay true to my natural color. Yeh just can’t improve on perfection, yeh know.”

  “How did you manage to find size fourteen ballet slippers?”

  “I was datin’ a seamstress at the time. She found ‘em for me.”

  “Weren’t you married then?”

  “Yeah, Emmy was about a year old, remember? It was her second Halloween, and we went trick-or-treatin’ as twins.”

  “I don’t know how someone hasn’t killed you yet.”

  “Many have tried,” he said solemnly. Seconds later Emily came running in with my photo album in her hands and plopped it on the table in front of me. We went through the entire album, and I answered her myriad questions about all the people in the pictures. She especially liked one picture of Ethan and me when we were about her age. She asked if she could have it, and I found myself promising to make copies for her so she could have her own album. I later gave her a picture of my parents standing in front of their beach house. They weren’t much younger than Ethan and I presently were, and they looked very happy. I gave her numerous pictures of her dad at various ages and a few of myself. She had pictures of her aunts and uncles as small children, and her grandparents as teenagers and young adults. As I made lunch for everyone, I found myself telling some stories of the good times that I remembered having with my parents.