Five Stories

by Richard George

lot of pointers. I spent most of my life trying to be Grandpa. I didn’t do any better job of it than he did. And here at the end, I still don’t know who I am or should be.”

  Tom almost muttered, “I’ve always tried to do the right thing, the decent thing.”

  Ed looked fondly at Tom. “Yes, you have. Succeeded pretty well, too. I always wanted Bobby to be more like you. He couldn’t. It just wasn’t in his nature.”

  “Poor Bobby! To think he wanted so hard to be what you wanted, and all that time I thought he was exactly what you wanted.”

  “Not so. I didn’t understand Bobby. He was so different from me, had such a wild hair up his crack, always hearing music nobody else could. I loved him, you know, I loved him, and I loved you.”

  “I know, Dad. You didn’t say it much, but we both knew you loved us. We didn’t say it much, either, but we did love you. And I still do.”

  “Don’t make my mistakes, son. Make your own. Go find Jeremy, Tom. Listen to him, before it’s too late. Give his ideas a chance. It’s what I didn’t do with Bobby. I should have.”

  “I’ll talk to him again, Dad.”

  Ed shook his finger at Tom. “Listen to him, Tom.” He struggled to his feet again. “Mother made me keep the shrine. She said it was to remind me of what a damned fool I am. She meant it to be my punishment.” Ed sighed “It has been. It’s my payback. She wrote she would never forgive me, not through all Eternity, she said. Maybe Bobby’s spirit will. Go to Jeremy.”

  “I will, Dad, just as soon as I sober up enough to drive home. I’m going to the kitchen, to make some coffee.”

  “There’s instant in the cupboard. Make me a cup, too. Use the microwave to heat the water.” Tom went to the kitchen.

  “Some mess, Bobby,” Ed said to the photograph. “All I ever wanted was my kids and grandkids around me as I got old. Mother was right. I’m a damned old fool.”

  Tom returned with two cups of coffee. “Dad, you look tired,” he said. “Sit back and relax.”

  “I am tired, Tom. You look tired, too. Smart of you to sober up before you go home. I don’t want to lose my only living son to something stupid like a car crash, you hear? I want to die in my own good time before all the rest of my family does.”

  “I’m going to be careful.” “Yankee Doodle” played on Tom’s cell phone.

  Ed looked puzzled. “What the hell is that?”

  “My cell phone,” Tom said. He took it out of his pocket. “Hello,” he said into it. “Yes, Doreen, I’m with Dad. I’m having some coffee to keep me awake, and then I’ll be right home.” He listened for a moment. “Tell Jeremy I apologize.” He listened to Doreen’s response. “All right, then, I’ll tell him when I get home. Just tell him to wait for me, please. He listened again. “Yes, Doreen. Yes, dear.” He closed the phone.

  “Fences to mend?” Ed asked.

  Tom shook his head. “Major repairs required.”

  “Doreen’s a good woman, Tom. Listen to her, too.”

  “I will, Dad. I need to do a lot more listening. I’m going home, now. I’ve got to say a few things, and hear a lot more.”

  “Take your time, son. Jeremy’s like Bobby, in one way at least. He’s not one to bear a grudge in the face of an apology.”

  Tom went to the entry door. “You going to be all right?” he asked his father.

  Ed waved a hand at him. “As much as I ever am. You drive careful, you hear?”

  “Yes, Dad. And, Dad?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thanks.”

  “Go on now.” When Tom closed the door behind him, Ed went to Bobby’s picture. “Bobby, pray for me, if you can,” he said. Then he blew out the candle.