“Okay. I’ll talk to Ryan about the mistaken identity issue. I’m sure she’ll get a kick out of it. Later,” Brandon said, as Hank and I turned to walk away.
As we began the rest of the brief stroll to our destination, I said, “Deep breath, big guy. Sorry for that. It really did look like the fucker was up to no good. I really don’t know how he thinks he has big enough balls to mess with you, though. Some guys just have too much self- confidence. The problem is, as I’ve told you before, that he brings that superior attitude into my house and he has acted out towards us, too. Like that day in the pool. I’ll tell you what, though. I would love to see you beat the ever-loving shit out of him some day, even though it probably won’t score you any points with Ryan.”
“Oh, it’ll happen. Trust me. Now I see why you can’t stand that asshole. By the way, guys who are that full of themselves are not likely to put up with any back talk from their women. Ryan’s a strong woman with opinions of her own, so you’d better keep an eye on him,” he said.
“You are absolutely right about that, and I will. Now, let’s get some burgers and beers and get to the fucking game.”
Chapter 19
Later that evening, Hank and I were high fiving in celebration of Dirk’s fourth three pointer in a row, which had pulled the Mavericks ahead of their opponent with less than a minute to go in the game. The momentum of the game had changed, and Dallas seemed to have their rivals—the San Antonio Spurs—on the ropes.
I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and had a feeling the message I had received was going to take the wind out of the sails of the party ship I was currently riding on.
Pulling the phone out, I tapped the text message icon on the screen. There was a group text to me and Mandy, sent from Ryan.
“I heard from Brandon about how you ruined his dinner with Charlotte and his boss. I’m so embarrassed! Why don’t you just mind your own business and leave Brandon alone? By the way, tell your asshole friend that if he ever touches my fiancé, we’ll sue his macho ass and I’ll never forgive him.”
Mandy followed up Ryan’s message by jumping to the defense of her man and asserting a firm declaration that as the patriarch of the family it was my duty to insert myself into any situation that allowed me to protect or further the best interests of the family. Not. Actually, she reacted about the way I’d expected her to and merely sent the message, “Nice move, Mark. When are you and your shit-for-brains friend going to grow up?”
Hank saw me checking the messages and inquired, “Did the little lady hear about our adventure already? Don’t tell me, she is dripping wet and can’t wait for you to get home, right?”
“Something like that. Let’s just say that I really know how to impress the ladies in my life.” Just then, the final buzzer went off and the crowd exploded with celebratory shouts and whistles which nearly drowned out the announcer, who was belting out, “FINAL SCORE, DALLAS 101 AND SAN ANTONIO 99!!”
“Oh well,” I summed up my final thoughts on the matter. “Let’s go get some tequila shots and forget about what fuck-ups we are!”
“Lead the way, playuh!” he concurred.
Chapter 20
Our house is located on a cul-de-sac. Across from our driveway is a wooded trail which provides access for those in our neighborhood to Lakeview Park. The park is a beautiful parcel of about two hundred acres, covered with well-manicured grass surrounding multiple islands of flowering plants, lustrous green shrubs, and towering trees. Along the perimeter of the park is a paved jogging trail where you can often see parents pushing their small children in strollers and people of all ages walking their dogs while soaking up the beautiful scenery, fragrant fresh air, and the warm sunlight.
Because of the popularity of the park with dog walkers, those of us who are familiar with it know to stay on the paved trail in order to avoid straying into the mine fields alongside the trail where you can hardly avoid stepping on a fresh pile of dog droppings. Over the years, our family has been witness to countless individuals who have either purposely stepped off the path to get around a group of slow movers or let someone pass, or just inadvertently wandered off the trail due to some type of distraction and planted their shoe right in a soft, slick, and oh so smelly deposit of dog poop. Anyone who has had the unfortunate task of seeking a makeshift implement such as a stick or rock which can be used to scrape at the sole of a poopy shoe can empathize with someone else who has just detected the presence of dog shit on their shoe. One moment you are enjoying Mother Nature’s wondrous creations with a spring in your step and a smile on your face. The next moment you are moaning out ‘Goddammit’ or ‘what the fuck?’ and knowing that the next few minutes will be sacrificed to the task of getting the smelly globs off of your footwear, knowing full well that no matter how much or little it is, you’ll be smelling dog crap for hours to come.
As much as it sucks to be the one sliding through doggy doodoo, it is nearly impossible to keep from cracking up when another poor soul discovers that they should have been paying better attention to the placement of their foot, because fate has just played a nasty trick on them. It is especially humorous, I think, to see someone wearing fancy footwear having to experience the fouling of their previously brand new and almost glowing white cross trainer, their colorfully striped running shoe, or their fabulous and fashionable Chuck Taylor. To be fortunate enough to be present when someone slips, trips, or otherwise wipes out and falls onto a towering mass of canine crap is as awesome as driving past someone who’s pulled over on the side of the road receiving a speeding ticket and recognizing him as the asshole in the jacked up truck who tailgated you for miles on the highway before finally passing you several minutes earlier. There is no better entertainment.
When the person Lady Luck decides to bitch slap with a dog crap disaster is someone you harbor ill feelings for, it’s like Publishers Clearinghouse has just shown up at your door. Rather than a financial prize, however, you receive a nugget of entertainment that will bring a smile to your face every time you recall it. I was present for just such a blessed event and not only will I always be able to enjoy a private laugh, but bearing witness to what I felt was existential justice gave me invaluable insight into the character of someone whose life had become intermingled with my own.
It was one of the first warm and sunny Saturdays in early spring. The kids were hanging out and Ryan had arrived several hours earlier, accompanied by Brandon. He had actually been fairly pleasant to be around the last several times we had gotten together with Ryan at their apartment, mainly because he just didn’t seem to give two shits about us, so he mostly kept to himself and didn’t interact much. I was finding it somewhat unfortunate that it was looking like they were going to stay together and actually tie the knot, and that we would probably always have a strained or distant relationship with our first son-in-law, but there wasn’t much we could say or do about it. Somehow, Brandon had continued to endear himself to Ryan, although the rest of the family felt like she deserved much better.
Oftentimes when they would come to visit, Brandon would find something to do, separate from the rest of the family, but still in the general vicinity. I sensed that he and Ryan felt like this was the best way to help the situation appear as if he was interested in her family enough to come to visit us, yet minimize the chance that friction would develop, mainly between myself and Brandon. Interestingly, this approach was actually ensuring that the family would have minimal reason to reconsider our initial impressions of him. Ryan had told us he was well read, always up on current affairs in the news, and that he had a great sense of humor. However, we rarely had the opportunity to appreciate anything interesting or humorous about him. All we would ever be able to see him as was an introverted loner who had little or nothing to contribute to the group dynamic of our family.
He did keep himself in excellent physical condition. One of his seemingly favorite distractions during their visits was engaging in some type of exercise. I’ve always had a well out
fitted exercise room in our home, so he had ample opportunity and facilities to get a good workout in while the rest of us hung out with Ryan. Of course, if the rest of us were headed outside for a stroll in the sun, he could don his running shoes and accompany us to the park, where he could run laps along the trail until the rest of us were ready to head back home.
On this particular Saturday, everyone was up for going to Lakeview Park. We could walk the trail, toss a frisbee around, and bask in the sunlight. We had decided to leave our three dogs at home so we could focus on the kids. Followed by his own dog Charlie, a brown lab who was very well trained and would stay in step with him throughout his runs, Brandon began his thirty-minute routine of jogging around the park. The kids decided they wanted to play a game, so we played frisbee keep away until everyone was worn out. Then we wandered over to a large pond where we placed bets on who could skip rocks the most times. We noticed an empty milk carton that some asshole had tossed into the water, which was floating near the opposite edge of the pond, about twenty yards from us. I told the kids that whoever could hit it with a rock and push it to the opposite shore so that we could retrieve it would win five bucks. After several attempts each, Corey actually nailed it with a rock the size of a tennis ball, but instead of pushing to the shore, the stone crushed it and it apparently sunk to the bottom.
“Sweet, five bucks!” Corey yelled out. “Too bad girls can’t throw worth a crap,” he expounded. In truth, none of the three girls had come within five yards of the target. Mandy, on the other hand had overthrown the carton twice and the ensuing splash and swells had actually pushed the floating piece of refuse further from the opposite shore and into the center of the pond.
“Watch it, you little shit,” Mandy said, as she playfully smacked his shoulder with a whip-like backhand. “You probably never could have hit it if I hadn’t pushed it back toward us with my splashes. I think you owe me half of the prize money.” Mandy’s brutal honesty could have on many occasions, in theory at least, turned my Mini Me clone into a real woman hater. In reality, between the shit this kid had to learn to graciously take in stride from his mother and the nitpicking he received from his sisters, he was going to learn how to deal with women in a productive manner. He was actually figuring out, most of the time, how use his charm and good looks to make favorable impressions on his female teachers, his older sisters’ friends, and Mandy’s girlfriends. My prediction was that his training in dealing with the fairer sex would teach the handsome little fucker how to, as an adult, sweep the ladies off their feet and into his bedroom.
As if to prove my theory correct, he grabbed his Momma Bear by the shoulders and immediately turned it around. “I said girls, Mamacita! I would never trash talk women! I just mean that these female worker bees will never compete with a Queen Bee like you. You are unbeatable!” I actually thought Mandy blushed a little bit. Seriously, this kid had a gift. Once again, he had demonstrated his reflexive ability to control female adversaries at will.
Was Mandy really buying this? I wasn’t sure, but I had always felt that she was doing a great job reading the situation correctly and raising this young boy to be a man. Her work was definitely cut out for her, based on the fact that Corey basically had three extra mothers whose main goal seemed to be to break his male spirit and assert their dominance over him. “Okay then, that’s what I’m talkin’ about. And I agree! Just cuz these daughters of mine are girls doesn’t mean they can’t learn to throw as if they aren’t total weenies.” Hmm, too far? Who knows? What I do know is that my old lady was the kind of role model I wanted for these young ladies who were coming of age in a world that was cruel and unforgiving.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, people,” I interjected. “What makes you think that anyone is getting prize money? I said that you had to push the trash to the shore so we could toss it in a trash can, not plant in in the bottom of the pond. You didn’t remove the litter, you just temporarily made it disappear. It’s still there polluting this beautiful pond. You’re no environmental hero, pal. You’re actually more of an accomplice. No five bucks for you, buddy boy!”
Lizzie and Emma spoke up against their younger brother’s cause. “Ha, Cor-Cor! That’s just what you get for trash talking your sisters, you brat!!” Emma piped up.
“Yeah. That’s right, sucka!! If you wouldn’t have messed with us we would have gotten Dad to give you the cash,” Lizzie added. “You’re gonna learn, boy, that your sisters can be your best friends or your worst enemies.”
“You ever heard the old saying about hell having no fury like a woman scorned, Corey boy?” I asked. “That shit is gospel! Don’t forget it!’
“What’s a fury?” inquired my thirteen-year-old son. I hated to think about the education he was yet to receive in gender social dynamics. Oh well, we all figure out eventually that messing with the opposite sex is ultimately not in our best interest.
Shortly after the milk carton controversy was settled, we left the pond and headed back through the park toward the trail to our house. As we neared the trail entrance, we could see Brandon topping a small rise in the jogging track that was about fifty yards from where we would cross the jogging path to enter the trail. As we approached the path, we knew we needed to be careful to avoid the area where a lot of dogs like to pull over for a pit stop, which is just up the hill from where the trail to our cul-de-sac joins the path.
A threesome of ladies wearing brightly colored exercise outfits was walking their dogs down the hill in the same direction as Brandon as he approached them from behind. These were the type of chicks that used a jogging trail as a venue for social interaction rather than exercise. You could hear them all trying to talk over each other as they raced to get their stories out, only to start with the next one before one of the others could break into the monologue with a thought of her own. In addition to the cacophonous noise pollution they were creating on this peaceful day in the park, they were guilty of not controlling or even paying attention to their dogs, who were literally darting from one side of the path to the next trying to find the perfect place to mark with their scent. Of course, these ladies had every right to be there, but I knew that Brandon would be thinking that they were an annoyance and an impediment to his workout due to the fact that he would have to go around them and their dogs in order to complete his run. I smiled as I saw the look of frustration appear on his face.
The family and I were still hanging out on the inside of the walking path. Ryan had asked us to hang tight instead of crossing the path and entering the trail which led out of the park to the cul-de-sac where we lived. She wanted to see how many laps Brandon had left. He had caught up with the group of spandex clad yappers and their canine scouts and decided to pass them on the inside of the path, which would bring him in close proximity to our group, presumably so that he could check in with Ryan. His dog Charlie had dutifully left the path along with him and was maintaining his wing dog position two paces to the left and one pace behind his master. I was, once again impressed with Charlie’s display of obedience and self-control as he completely ignored the group of dogs on outstretched leashes who had now taken notice of his presence and were barking and snarling in order to let him know he had wandered into enemy territory. The other dogs seemed to be giving him fair warning that if he did not retreat immediately, his intrusion would lead to the employment of hostile countermeasures.
As Brandon jogged across the grass, I noted that he had entered an area which was perpetually riddled with so many piles of dog shit it seemed as if a legion of dogs had conspired to create an impassable no man’s land around some sort of sacred ground. I wanted to call out to him that he should seriously watch his step. Before I could get this warning out of my mouth, however, a chain of events started to unfold which was both terrifying and awesome to behold.
I had started my warning by yelling, “Hey, Brandon—”
Apparently, just prior to the moment that he looked toward me in anticipation of my spoken message, one of the dogs fro
m the path had decided that Charlie represented a clear and present danger to his group and needed to be dealt with physically. This portly dachshund had broken free of the group and was following an intercept vector which would take him directly across Brandon’s path. It was a bold attack move and one that Brandon had apparently not seen coming as his own dog continued to hold his position along his master’s left flank.
Just as this furry, grey torpedo was about to shoot through his legs, Brandon sensed the dog’s presence and glanced down. I don’t think he would have any remorse if he were to accidentally kick or step on a small dog or any other defenseless creature on earth, but his reflexes took over and he attempted to pull back the stride that he had begun. Of course, momentum is an unforgiving force in these situations. We’ve all been there, maybe it’s an effort to miss a sharp Lego walking barefoot through the living room at midnight. Other times you might be moving through a crowd at a family gathering when a random toddler appears out of nowhere right in front of you. Our natural instinct is to pull back that next step, but we immediately sense the upper part of our bodies still moving forward. This creates what masters of Newtonian physics refer to as—a problem. In such a situation, the body deviates from the upright position and begins to lean forward. With the foot that we are stepping off still fixed to the ground and the other foot held up, even momentarily, both gravity and momentum demand that we start to fall like a tree which has just had a large wedge removed from its base. Sometimes there is room around us to perform a fancy spin maneuver, or sometimes we can push off strongly with our back foot and literally leap to safety at the last minute. Sometimes we don’t immediately see an option and inwardly yell, ‘oh shit!’ as we attempt to figure out how best to land in order to minimize damage to our bodies as well as our surroundings, missing the toddler in all scenarios, of course. Typically, Brandon was agile enough to leap beyond an obstacle and keep running, without missing so much as a single stride. But today, his abbreviated stride had affected the timing of the marauding pooch, and instead of passing unscathed between his legs, the dog’s body was perfectly positioned to perform a roll tackle. Brandon’s foot didn’t quite clear it obstacle and a sharp yelp was emitted as the toe of his jogging shoe made contact with the rib cage of the dog. At this point, there was no acrobatic feat possible to successfully avoid a fall.
Fatal Flaws Page 13