When I walked into the den, Dad jumped out of his recliner and stared at me, seething with anger.
“Why the hell haven’t you helped your mother clean up the kitchen?”
“Dad, I was just outside with—”
“I don’t want to hear your excuses. You’re always full of excuses. Your mother just spent all day slaving to throw you this damn party, and you can’t clean up?”
“Dad, I was just out front with—” I started, but before I could get the words out, he knocked me across my face with the beer can in his hand. I fell to the floor.
“You little shit! I told you I don’t want to hear any excuses from you!”
He kicked me in the gut and hollered at me to get up.
As I tried to stand he screamed, “You’ve never appreciated your mother!” and slammed his beer can into my face again. I fell to the floor and curled into a ball as he kicked me again and again.
Finally, I heard my mother scream for him to stop. I looked up, and she stood between us, trying to calm him down. Jenn stood at the entrance of the den, horrified.
My mom drove Jenn home while I cleaned up my bloody nose and the kitchen. Dad, oblivious, watched television in the den.
Less than an hour later, the police were at the door. As my dad spoke to them and I watched from the kitchen, I figured that Jenn’s parents must have called the cops. I hoped they would put the cuffs on him and lock him up forever. But they left quickly after arriving.
Dad walked into the kitchen, looking pale.
“Get the keys,” he said. “You’re driving us to the hospital. Your mom’s been in an accident.”
It turned out that after Mom had dropped Jenn off, a drunk driver had run a red light and slammed into her car.
She was in intensive care for six days. After I spent the first day in her hospital room, I could barely stand to visit her. The blood and the bandages horrified me. It tore me up to see her that way. Dad made me go the first three days, but I skipped the fourth and fifth and just stayed home crying. The fifth night Dad called home and asked me to come to the hospital and watch Mom so he could go get a drink. I told him no and hung up the phone. A few hours later he came home blotto and beat me until I couldn’t move. He kept screaming at me, saying no real man would let his mother lie alone in a hospital. “Stop being a chickenshit and start being a man! Go see your stupid damn mother! You never did love her enough, you little coward!” By the time he exhausted himself beating me, I had decided to move out.
The next day I packed my things and went to Jenn’s house to tell her I would be staying at a friend’s house. Her parents answered the door. I asked to see her. They said she didn’t want to see me, and they didn’t want their daughter involved with someone like me.
Later I went to the hospital. All the nurses kept asking me if I had been in the car wreck too, since my face looked like hamburger from Dad’s beating.
The doctors wouldn’t let him or me into Mom’s room in her last moments alive. They were trying to save her, and we’d have been in the way, I guess. When a doctor came out, he looked at me sadly and walked up to Dad. The doctor whispered in his ear, patted him on the shoulder, and walked back into her room.
Dad looked at me and shook his head. As he turned and walked away, I heard him say, “If you hadn’t made her throw you that damn party . . .”
And that was the last I ever saw of him.
By the time I finished my story, the wizard and I had walked completely around the Big Tent. On the other side, a fence encircled an area used for the animals in the circus show. We leaned on the fence, and I squinted into some of the animal cages. I could see lions, seals, giraffes, tigers, and monkeys. A few feet away stood four elephants. A gigantic man in a dirty burgundy Henley and a cowboy hat tended to them. When he saw us lean on the fence, he smiled and walked over.
“Mr. Wizard,” he said, tipping his hat and smiling broadly, “Good to see you—been a long while.”
“It surely has, Gus.” The wizard nodded toward the elephants. “How’s the family?”
“Oh, they’re doing just great,” Gus replied, beaming with pride at his charges. “Getting smarter and stronger by the day. You know, I got Jo-Jo there to lift up the back end of a truck with his trunk the other day. Stronger and smarter by the day. . . .”
Gus looked past us suddenly and grinned. “Well, I’ll be! Henry?”
I looked over my left shoulder to see Henry approaching. A pang of guilt shot through me.
“Heya, right back at ya, Gus,” he said, leaning on the fence beside me. He glanced at me and nodded, then looked past me to the wizard, who was standing at my other side.
The wizard nodded, and an awkward few moments passed. Gus seemed to want to say something to Henry, but the wizard shook his head. I wanted to say something to him too: I’m sorry.
“Henry,” the wizard finally said, “Gus here was just telling us about how smart and strong the elephants have gotten.”
“Is that right?” Henry replied. He turned to me. “You know much about elephants?”
“Not really,” I said.
“Oh. You might find them interesting. Gus, why don’t you tell us about elephants?”
Gus grinned at the invitation. “Sure. I’d love to give you the rundown.” He motioned at the elephant closest to us. “Take Jo-Jo there—he’s a perfect example of a good, healthy adult elephant. Adult elephants go anywhere from ten to thirteen feet tall; Jo-Jo’s twelve feet. From trunk to tail, he’s longer than your car—about twenty-three feet. He weighs more than four cars, around twelve thousand pounds. He can lift eleven hundred pounds and could tear a small tree out of the ground with his trunk. In the wild, where his habitat would be a five-hundred-square-mile stretch of land, he could run about eighteen miles an hour. But he’s not just strong and fast—he’s smart too. Like all elephants, he has the largest brain size to body weight of any animal on the planet besides humans.”
Gus clearly had a lot of pride in the animals and his job.
Henry scratched his head. “Tell me somethin’, Gus. There’s always something I couldn’t understand about your elephants. You say in the wild they roam five hundred miles and can run almost twenty miles an hour?”
“That’s right.”
“And you say they can lift eleven hundred pounds and can tear a small tree out of the ground?”
“Sure. In the wild, these guys often uproot whole trees for food.”
“So tell me something,” Henry continued. “How is it that those elephants there stay in one place? I see they’re all just tied to a stake in the ground with a tiny rope. Don’t they feel compelled to rip that stake out of the ground and roam free?”
“Nah,” Gus replied. “They gave that urge up a long time ago.”
“What do you mean?” the wizard asked.
“Well, you see, those elephants don’t think they can be free. See, when they were babies, we tied ’em up for the first time. Now, when we did that, you better believe they tried to break free. They made all sorts of fuss and noise and tried like hell. But they were too small and weak. The rope was too strong. Over time they convinced themselves they couldn’t be free, and they stopped trying. They’ve always believed they were too small and weak to pull the stake out of the ground.”
“Now I get it,” Henry said, a knowing smile on his face. He looked over to Jo-Jo, shoveling hay into his mouth with his trunk. “Well, Gus, I can see it’s about feeding time, so we’ll let you get back to work. Thanks for the information. We’ll see you soon.”
Gus tipped his hat and went to feed the elephants.
The wizard turned to me. “So there’s our lesson.”
“What lesson?” I asked.
The wizard looked at me as if I were a little thick. “That maybe it’s time you stopped feeling small and weak.” He looked at Henry and then back at me. “Well, it’s time I got going too. You keep learning—and stay with Henry. So long,” he said and walked away.
I
turned to Henry to apologize for leaving, but he spoke first.
“Listen,” he said softly, “I’m sorry about Harsh. That was my fault. I pushed him to challenge you. Sounds like he went too far.”
“Yeah . . . but don’t worry about it.” I paused awkwardly for a moment, not knowing what to say. “Harsh said something my father once said to me. How did he know those words?”
“The park works in mysterious ways,” Henry said. “You hear what you need to hear sometimes. I know what happened with you and your father, what you told the wizard, and I think I have something you need to hear. Are you willing to listen?”
I was shocked that he knew about what I told the wizard. But that feeling passed quickly. Nothing surprised me too much about this place anymore. “I’m listening.”
Henry nodded toward the elephants. “I think that you need to forgive your father and yourself and everyone else who has hurt you.” He turned to me and spoke passionately. “You need to break free from the fear and suffering and anger that you have chained to the past. Because those emotions are holding you back from living freely. They’re holding you back from venturing into new territories. They’re holding you back from being who you were meant to be. It’s time you used your smarts and your strength.”
I shook my head. “I know, Henry. I know. It’s just . . . that’s easier said than done.”
“That’s why it’s time for us to go see your father,” he said.
10
THE PIRATE SHIP
I rushed after Henry as he walked away. “What? Did you just say we’re going to see my father?”
“I did,” he said. “Now, no more questions. Just come with me. And think about what you want to say to him.”
We walked north, beyond the animal keep and back onto the main walkway that went around the park. The crowds were back. We kept walking, past a bumper boat ride teaming with screaming children, past a merry-go-round playing calliope music. Stopping on a sea-blue, crescent moon–shaped platform, we gazed up at a big wooden pirate ship. Two towers rose above the ship, one on either side; the ship’s mast ran up to the height of the towers. Stairs rose up into a square entrance cut into the side of the hull.
Throngs of people passed behind us, and a knot of teenagers complained and cursed when they saw a sign hanging by a chain across the entrance: RIDE CLOSED.
Henry pointed up to the ship. “Think of it as a pendulum. Below the platform is a big wheel with a tire that spins against the bottom of the ship, giving it momentum, making it swing. Kids really like this ride. They sit in seats, and the ship swings higher and higher. We used to give them shields and swords and eye patches, but we quit because too many kids would throw the stuff overboard. Anyway, the ride is closed because they’ve taken all the seats out to sand the floor.”
Henry called loudly up toward the entrance, “Willy! You in there, Willy?”
A man in a red bandanna and white-and-black-striped shirt leaned over the side of the ship. He wore an eye patch. “Ahoy, down there! Who be callin’ me name?” Staring down at us, he opened his mouth in surprise, then pulled off his eye patch and squinted. “Henry?”
Willy unhooked the chain at the entranceway, bounded down the stairs, and gave Henry a great bear hug, spinning him in circles. “Henry, you old landlubber! You’ve returned!” He let Henry loose and looked him in the eyes. “Then it’s time?”
Henry nodded. “We’ll talk later. For now, any chance you can teach this kid how to be a real swashbuckler?”
Willy eyed me up and down and smiled, revealing a few missing teeth. “Aye!” he cheered happily. He put an arm around Henry and the other around me and led us up into the hull of the ship.
The ship’s deck was about twenty-five feet wide and fifty feet long—much bigger than I would have imagined. The entire deck had recently been sanded, and the floor was covered in dust and wood shavings. The mast rose in the center, and toward the stern a spoked wooden wheel four feet across rose from the deck. The only other feature of the deck was the hatch, a square hole on the starboard side that led to the belly of the ship below.
Willy strapped a wooden shield tightly to my left forearm with two thick, rough straps of leather.
“How’s it feel, mate?”
“Fine,” I said. The shield was wider than a large pizza, and definitely heavier, but it felt secure and oddly natural on my arm.
Willy showed me how to hold the shield and bow my head behind it to protect myself from an attack. “Keep your shield up,” he said, “and you’ll always minimize the risk of being hurt.”
He offered me the hilt of a heavy wooden sword—it fit squarely in my palm. “Easy for a tight grip?” he asked.
I nodded.
He taught me how to squint around the shield and spot the weaknesses in an enemy’s defense. He also showed me the best crouching position, one in which my legs were flexed, ready to leap forward and thrust my sword when my enemy was vulnerable.
“Always strike first and strike hard,” he said. He spent about a half-hour teaching me how to block and thrust and parry and counterattack. A crowd of people had gathered below, wondering what was going on—they were able to view just the top half of our bodies.
“Okay, Willy,” Henry said, watching us from behind the captain’s wheel. “He’s ready. Let’s go.”
Willy and Henry walked over to the hatch. Willy threw his shield and sword onto the deck and descended below; Henry started to follow.
“Hey!” I called out. “Ready for what? Where are you going?”
“It’s time we left you alone,” Henry said, “to fight your enemies.”
Minutes passed, and I peered over the port side, down into the crowd. Henry and Willy were down there talking. I watched them for a moment until I heard something behind me.
I turned around . . . and froze in terror.
My father stood just in front of the hatch. He strapped Willy’s shield onto his left arm.
I squeezed my eyes shut hard in disbelief.
When I opened them, he still stood there. He looked exactly as he had the last time I had seen him, when he walked away from me outside Mom’s hospital room: black trousers, white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up, narrow black tie loosened around his collar.
I found myself moving toward him.
He adjusted the strap of his shield.
As I drew closer I could smell the stench of whiskey oozing from his pores.
He bent down, picked up the sword, and looked at me for the first time. His eyes glowed red.
“If you hadn’t made her throw you that damn party . . .”
“No!” I heard myself scream, and I lunged at him with hatred. I forgot Willy’s coaching and just tried to slam my sword down onto him like a hammer. He threw up his shield and blocked my sword, then kicked me in the stomach. I fell backward onto the deck.
He yelled and charged at me. “You stupid little shit, I’ll teach you to raise a hand to me!”
I scooted frantically backward, pushing myself away with my hands and heels. In a flash he was on me.
As he pounded at me with his sword I instinctively blocked it with my shield, pivoting and kicking him in the thigh. He cursed and stumbled in pain.
I scrambled to my feet and backed up into the port rail.
Dad charged me again, yelling, “You never appreciated your mother!”
He swung at me, and again I parried the blow.
I heard the crowd below shouting and cheering, no doubt thinking they were getting a free show.
Anger exploded within me, and I screamed and charged, pushing him backward.
I hopped to his side and swung my sword wildly, striking him hard on his right arm, just below the shoulder muscle. He howled in pain and rage and swung right back, slamming the wooden blade across my left forearm.
Stepping into me, he bashed me full-force with his shield, sending me back into the railing again.
“Your mother spent all day slaving to throw you that damn party
, and you couldn’t even clean up!”
He stepped toward me once again, but I feinted and swung my sword in a wide arc, right across the side of his face. He fell to the ground screaming in pain.
I pushed myself off the railing and stood above him, and as he raised his shield I unleashed hell.
I swung my sword like a baseball bat, hitting him over and over again, pummeling his arms, legs, shoulders, ribs. “You son of a bitch!” I screamed uncontrollably as I kicked at him repeatedly. “You bastard!” I kept hitting, kicking, spitting, screaming, crying.
I beat him until I was exhausted and my voice was hoarse. Then I backed away, dropped my sword, and stared at him lying there.
He was curled in a fetal position, covering his head and neck with his shield. His chest heaved, and I heard his labored breathing. His arm and shield fell to his side, revealing a bloodied face.
I looked down at him, wishing he were dead. “You ruined my life!”
He blinked several times and shook his head from side to side, then sat up, wiping blood from his mouth. He looked at my sword on the ground and the shield next to him, then back to me with a face of exasperation. “I didn’t ruin your life, son. I haven’t seen you since you were seventeen. Your life is what it is because of you, not me.”
I stared at him in shock. “No! You beat me! You ruined my life!”
Dad rose to his feet, grunting in pain. He bent down and picked up his sword, then limped across the deck with it and paused at the edge of the hatch. He threw the sword down into the darkness, took his shield off, and threw it down as well. Wiping the blood from his nose, he looked back at me sadly. “You were always full of excuses.”
He took a few steps down into the hatch and looked back at me once more. “You’re not small and weak anymore. You can’t keep using me as an excuse to live shield up and sword out. Your life is what it is because of you, not me.” Then he disappeared down the hatch.
I crumpled to the floor and sobbed uncontrollably.
A voice exploded from across the deck. “Get up, you little pest!”
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