Learning Lessons

by KT Morrison

  “W-What?”

  “Those boys of yours. They love you. I think you've been a great father.”

  “Thanks, Conrad,” he said, feeling his face flush with blood.

  “I just want you to remember that.” He swivelled in Pete's recliner, turned back to the TV and took another sip of beer.

  Remember that when?

  Pete felt a real tremble in his belly. A quiver. If he looked down he knew he'd see his sport shirt ruffling. He was trembling with emotion. A lot of different ones. He couldn't decipher how he felt. Good and terrible all at once. He got up before anyone would see him cry.

  The Pennsylvania Legacy was running on its own. A ghost train. No one down in the basement yet there it was pulling its coal carts through rustic old Calumet Bay.

  He stood and watched it run for a moment still feeling a lingering wave of emotions coursing through him. He knelt down and looked under the trestle tables that held up the recreation he built. He peered through the dark until he could see the white painted outside wall come into focus. No kids under there. He checked the furnace room and the cold storage but there was no one.

  The command centre had been left on, train running on the rail, his American Flyer was off the track and laying on its side in the dusty parking lot at the General Store.

  He just wanted to come down here to get himself together.

  When Pete got back to the family room Tyler was sitting on the footstool next to Conrad, he was talking earnestly, moving his hands around a lot like a salesman. Conrad was handing him a business card, he was nodding, and he said, No, that is really something, it would be interesting to see where it would go.

  Andy was sitting in Tyler’s spot and Petey was there now, sitting next to him, his back against the couch, his skinny legs sticking straight out, feet dangling off the seat.

  Pete walked in front of the TV, around the coffee table, to address them.

  “Boys, do you know anything about the train set?” Andy shook his head No. Petey was sad. Sad before Pete had said a word. Petey looked to Tyler, back to Pete and he said, No, but his voice barely broke above a whisper.

  “Well, I'd like to know why—”

  “Pete.” It was Tyler, he motioned with an open palm to the TV. Pete was interrupting the Cowboys-Redskins pre-game.

  Pete got down to their level, said, “Boys, were one of you down in the basement with the trains?”

  Andy was sleepy, his eyes half open, he whispered, No, Dad.

  “Petey? Do you know why the trains were still running down there?”

  “These trains...” Tyler said.

  “Pete...” Conrad said.

  “Petey, come with me,” he said and he walked Petey out of the family room and down to the powder room. When he was in there Petey’s face screwed right up like he was going to bawl. He went beet red. Pete put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed Petey’s little palm with his other hand. Petey cried and said that it wasn't him and that Tyler said they could and that Jacob asked Tyler and that it wasn't his idea and that even though he was down there he still didn't want to. Pete told him he should know better than to ask Tyler what to do, Tyler doesn't know anything about the rules around here and Petey said he didn't know what to do anymore.

  Petey broke away from him and he was really crying and Pete stayed in the powder room, down on one knee. He heard him run upstairs and slam his bedroom door. Pete stayed like that a while, listening to his own breathing and he knew that things couldn't be like this anymore. Tyler was going to have to go. But there was hope. Pete had exciting news.

  Jess had the dining room table set with the good silverware. She had a gingham tablecloth over the old walnut table that had been her family’s when she was growing up. Just a dumb wooden table but it held so much meaning, so many memories and it seemed kind of nice seeing her dad standing next to it now, in her own home with her own family. She wondered if her dad could recognize all that weight the table came with or if it was just her because it was her youth tied up in it. To her dad it was probably just some table he and Mom bought from a department store when they were first married. Maybe couldn’t even tell her where.

  Her centrepiece was a section of birch tree trunk, the white paper peeling on the sides, and it was hollowed out. She’d arranged a bouquet in the centre of it, sunflowers, pink alstroemerias, green poms and some purple daisy poms, then there were small pumpkins and some other gourds around it, and pinecones scattered artfully like she’d seen in a magazine. She’d lit ten dripless candles and they were woven through the arrangement.

  The food was ready, served in dishes and on platters, fine bone china that had been her mother’s mother’s. There was Sara’s creamed onions, Patty’s green bean casserole, Jess’ potatoes and candied yams, her own double-cranberry sauce, a Brussels sprout and chestnut salad, homemade bread, glazed carrots, roasted squash with brown sugar and bacon, ham, shrimp, a baked Kale and vegetable gratin, and of course the turkey with her apple-maple-walnut stuffing.

  She didn’t know how any of these fellas were going to eat after all the snacks she’d prepared for them this afternoon, but they better figure it out because this was an epic meal.

  She stood at one head of the table as everyone found their seat. They all nodded to her, acknowledging how well she’d done, how great everything looked, and she said she had a lot of help and she thanked Tammy and Patty and Sara. Pete was at the other head of the table, holding his seat and waiting for the ladies to sit down first. Tyler was at her right, Andy was at her left, and her dad looked quite happy to sit by Sara who looked a little worse for wear. They all looked a bit that way. They’d all indulged a bit too much in drink during football. Russ hadn’t said a word, she was convinced, in the last hour.

  And as every one sat and grabbed their napkin and the littlest ones were put into their boosters she said to Pete, “Where’s Petey?”

  Pete knocked on his son’s door and he heard Petey quietly say, Yeah?

  He went in and Petey was laying on his bed and he had his tablet next to him but he was reading a Goosebumps book his mom had brought him home.

  “Hey, buddy,” Pete said. He sat next to him on the bed. He looked all right, calm, no more tears.

  “Hi, Dad,” he said.

  Pete put his hand on his back and he said, “Dinner is ready, you going to come down?”

  “Yeah, Dad,” he said and he sat up next to Pete. “Dad? Can I sit with you?”

  “Sure, Petey. You don't want to sit with your friends?” he said and he rubbed his shoulder.

  Petey shook his head.

  Pete sat with him, looked around his room. He was neat like his mom. His toys put away, his books on their shelves, his bed was even made. Seven-year-old Pete was quite different, sharing a room with his older brother Michael, the two of them living in a filthy little boy nest of ripped up comic books and broken G.I. Joes.

  “You still having some trouble with Jacob, Petey?”

  He nodded again, his two hands clasped between his knees, kicking his legs against the side of his Avengers comforter.

  Pete said, “It was Jacob who ran the trains?”

  Petey nodded, shrugged, and looked up at his dad. He said, “Jacob says Tyler is Mom's boyfriend.”

  “He says what?”

  “He always says Tyler is Mom's boyfriend. I hate him. He makes kissing noises, he—”

  “You can't let him say that, Petey. Just...just don’t listen to him. That's not true, buddy.” Pete held his son tight as he could.

  When Pete brought Pete Jr. down and he got him a seat next to his dad, Conrad had everyone hold hands around the table and he gave thanks and said grace, and every one of them said Amen even though none of them had been to a church in years.

  Pete stood up and he asked everyone to lift their glass for a remarkable woman, his wife. He told them all what she meant to him, and all the things she does for the boys. He talked about her award, her work, her passion. And ended with, of course, the
wonderful meal she’d prepared.

  “I would be nothing without you,” he said finally, and everyone said, Hear, hear, touched their glasses, drank, and then they ate.

  Pete watched Jess down at the end of the table. Her blonde hair was pulled back, her cheeks had gone red from drinking wine all day in the kitchen. Just not a drinker. But her eyes were glassy, and she was all smiles down there, her golden earrings sparkled as she laughed, and he loved to see her happy. He would do anything for her to be happy. Give her anything.

  Conrad had been talking about his condo board down in Arizona. Pete could picture him sitting at the head of some table in a sunny but air-conditioned room, a bunch of white-haired ladies hanging off his words, his golfing buddies all nodding at his decisions, Conrad’s big hands clasped under his chin, his class ring gleaming. He’d said, Not if Conrad Garrett has something to say about it. Zoning changes affecting a parking lot visitors to the condo had been using to park overnight were changing, essentially closing it off even though it still wouldn’t be in use.

  Andy asked, “Why does Grampa have a different name?”

  Jess looked at Andy, said, “Garrett?”

  “That used to be your mom’s name too,” Tyler leaned close to him and said, “Jessica Garret.”

  Petey heard and he laughed. “Jessica?”

  Tyler laughed too, he said to Petey, “Is that funny?”

  “Mom’s name is Jessica?” Petey said.

  “Your mom used to be Jessica Garrett. Back when she was your age. She was Jessica Garrett, but some of the kids called her Jessica Rabbit and she hated it.”

  Jess rolled her eyes, smiling, bit her lower lip.

  Tyler said, “That’s why she changed it to Jess.”

  There was some chuckling but Andy didn’t get it. He said, “Why?” looking around him.

  Tyler said, “Because she used to have big teeth when she was little. Like a bunny rabbit.” He scrunched up his mouth and bared his teeth to Andy, made a funny face like a rabbit eating.

  Jess laughed out loud and Andy giggled.

  Patty looked over at Pete.

  Pete nodded, his mouth clamped. He didn’t know that.

  It was time.

  “So, listen Tyler,” he said down the table.

  Everyone turned and his scalp tingled. He didn’t expect to have everyone’s attention.

  “Listen, I don’t want to toot my own horn, some of you may know I’m a bit of a bigwig around Save-Mart,” he joked, put his palms up to stave off the applause.

  All faces were turned to him.

  He said, “Uh, I made some changes. Uh, s-structurally. I...I’ve created a new structure I’d like to implement and it requires a position be filled. I’ve changed to a new system of inventory and warehousing management and there’s a job. A manager. A j-job for you.”

  Tyler looked to Jess and she shrugged. Pete hadn’t told her a thing.

  “I won’t discuss compensation, uh, here, uh-obviously but I can say that it will be better than a first year teacher, or comparable. And it has a great, uh, great benefits package.”

  Tyler kind of stretched in his seat, inhaled, his chair creaked. He said, “Well, that’s great, Pete. Yeah, I mean,” he shrugged and leaned forward. “But Pete, I’m a teacher.”

  “It’s a job, Tyler. A great job.”

  “Yeah, but...” he kind of looked around to see if he could get some support.

  “You don’t want it?” Pete frowned. Patty shifted in her seat.

  “Well...no.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m sort of not into retail. No offense.”

  “Oh, you’re above retail?”

  “Not above it, no. I’m a teacher, Pete. All that shit made in China. Not for me, not a good fit.”

  Pete was stare-eyed. He shook his head. “Made in China? Who else is going to make it? America’s filled with the kind of people who’d turn down a perfectly good job when they needed one. How can we ever make things here anymore? In America. Tell me. Everyone wants their stuff made in America but they won’t spend an extra fifty cents for a God—” he caught himself, Petey staring at his crazy dad, whispered, “gosh-darn T-shirt. When price dictates your purchase, guess what happens? I mean it’s simple—”

  Jess said, “Pete you always say that you hate that stuff is made in China.”

  He went quiet. Thanks, Jess. He did. He did hate that.

  Russ fell asleep after dinner during the second quarter of the Steelers game. Patty woke him up told him they should go and he said, No, no, one more beer, let me make it to half time.

  Everyone was painfully stuffed. Conrad was on the recliner and he had the footrest kicked out, the toes of his gnarly black-socked feet sticking straight up. Tyler was in his corner with Andy again, laid right back, stomach noticeably bulged. Russ was on the other end and he didn’t look like he was going to make it. His eyes, as well as being sleepy, were red and watery. He had something white in his beard and nobody had thought to help him, not even Patty. Pete figured all the guys were around ten beers in.

  Patty left him to it, shaking her head and smiling, being a good sport about it. Pete said he’d grab some beers. He looked around, the other two raising an index finger. They were all in.

  He went to the garage, passed through the kitchen. The girls were all in there, the dishes were done, lights dimmed. They were having wine and talking. Didn’t even notice him go by.

  He went out to the garage, down the wooden steps to the beer fridge. Things were a real energy hog. He got this old one at a garage sale of all places, cleaned it out and kept it for beer storage, only plugged it in for a few days a year; July four, Memorial Day, holidays like Thanksgiving.

  They’d really gone through the Coors today. Still half a case left, but they’d drank almost two cases. No, maybe more. Maybe forty-five cans. He grabbed a fresh case off the top of the fridge slid it towards him, heard the scratch across the top. Then something fell right past him. Something heavy and deadly his brain told him quickly. And in the split second it took to travel to the floor he remembered that it was an axe head—he’d been using the sledge end, broke it at the neck, put the head on the fridge, forgot about it—now it was looking to chop his toes off.

  He did a crazy tap-dance, glad no one was around to witness it, kicking his knees up high a few times each leg, hands up overhead holding the case of beer from falling on him. It hit the ground, chipped the concrete, bounced, got tipped off the toe of his dancing slipper and tumbled two feet across and hit the kickstand of Tyler’s bike. He froze.

  Nothing happened, just a clunk off the aluminum, bike didn’t even budge. That was close. Tyler had put his bike away in their garage for the winter. Pete had cleared a space for him to store it. The garage was used for storage anyway, it’s not like Pete and Jess were putting a vehicle in it. Tyler had quite a few things stored in the garage. Pete looked at Tyler’s boxes, his squat rack, his barbell, his weights. He was taking up a lot of space, wasn’t he? Getting very comfortable.

  Pete put the toe of his worn leather slipper on the axe head and scraped it around in circles, enjoying the vibrations as it grated on the concrete, felt that energy traveling up his foot. He went in a few protracted circles then shot it off like an air hockey puck, let it slam off the kickstand and ricochet off into a cardboard box. The bike wobbled once.

  Tyler’s stupid bike. His muscular body bent over it, his legs spread on either side, that big cock and balls sitting on the seat vibrating with the roar of the motor. Girls turning to watch him go by, his thick muscular arms stretching out his tight T-shirt, tattoos all down them. Fuck that guy. I mean really, fuck Tyler.

  He looked up at the mudroom door.

  His foot went over the axe head again, let it go around and around filling up the garage with the sound of energy being stored. Then he shot it off, enjoyed the loud ping, watched the heavy metal head shoot off in the other direction this time. The bike wobbled again but didn’t fall. The kick
stand showed a dent.

  He opened the fridge, took the case of beer and slid it under the opened one. He grabbed four cold beers and held them in his arms, headed for the stairs. He put them down on the 2x4 railing so he could switch off the light. Then stepped quickly back down, walked to the bike and kicked the kickstand hard with his toe.

  It didn’t fall but he collapsed with the pain that shot up his leg and exploded in his brain. For sure, absolute certain he’d just broken a toe. He lay hissing on the concrete floor as the pain got worse, so bad he thought he’d scream, then it slowly subsided and just settled as a deep penetrating throb. Apparently the kickstand only bent one way. He wiggled his toes, they weren’t broken. He stood up, straightened Tyler’s kickstand, went up and closed the light, grabbed everyone’s beers and limped in to watch football.

  Sara was the first to head home, bundling up her little Bart and saying a strangely tearful good-bye to Jess and Pete. Patty said her good-byes at half time, buckling a very happy and sedate Russ into the passenger seat, Tammy and Jacob in the back of her Odyssey, probably asleep before they even got home.

  Jess put the boys to bed. Andy wanted to stay up and watch TV with the guys but she told him he knew he couldn’t do that and he agreed. She was upstairs a while, Pete figured she was reading to them. He tried to watch more of the game but he didn’t care about football and his eyes just kept closing on their own. He mumbled a good night to Tyler and Conrad and they grunted. He stumbled upstairs and went into the bedroom, brushed his teeth, put on his PJs and climbed into bed.

  He lay there for a while trying to fall asleep but he could hear Jess down there talking loudly, loud laughter coming from her. He tried to push it out of his head, thankful now that he’d had so much beer and food his brain couldn’t be distracted by their distant voices for long. He pulled up the cover just as an added buffer and tried to will himself to sleep. He had to work in the fucking morning.

  Jess came in to the bedroom about an hour later and she was quietly laughing to herself about something. Pete wasn’t sure if he’d slept in that time or if he’d woken up just as she came in but he felt like he hadn’t been asleep at all. He watched her slip into the bedroom, try to be quiet, close the door behind her. She carefully walked in the dark, feeling along the wall with one hand until she made it to the bathroom. He could hear her brush her teeth in there, and then she peed. When she came to bed she was just in a pair of panties and a loose T-shirt. He watched her bare legs as she stumbled her way into their bed.