The trip to the store was long and frustrating. I hadn't been anywhere but bars and fast food joints for the past couple of months, and I found the inside of the bustling store to be disconcerting and uncomfortable. When I wasn't drunk, I got claustrophobic in places such as this one. The constant pushing and shoving of the waves of people fighting for a place in line, the yelling and screaming of the hectic, fast-paced world, it was all just so abnormal for a man such as I, still trying to live in slow motion. It had to be done, though; it was either buy some food, or listen to the kid complain for the rest of the day.
I searched through the endless aisles for milk, cereal, fruit, anything to accommodate the child's hunger. I ended up getting some ice cream, milk, Cheerios, and some more oranges. We'd just go out for dinner every day. I got in line, came to the register, paid for my groceries, and got to the end of the block before finally realizing something was missing. I ran back into the store and asked the lady at the front desk if she had seen a young child anywhere around here.
'Yeah. I've seen about thirty of forty of them in the past five minutes. Want to be a little more specific, bud?'
'He's got dirty blond hair and light blue eyes. His name is Peter and he's three years old. He's pretty tall for his age, too. Have you seen anyone like him?'
'Why, he's sitting just over there. Says he's lost. Keep a better eye on him next time, will you?'
'Thank you very much. Peter!'
'Daddy!' he screamed in delight.
'What happened to you? Where'd you run off to?'
'I was right next to you, and then you were gone. I didn't know what to do, so I asked someone for help and they brought me here.' He paused, and tears began to well up in his eyes. 'I'ĶI'm sorry'Ķ'
'Oh, it's alright. I should have paid more attention. Next time, just hold onto my hand, okay?'
'Okay!'
'Thanks again, miss.'
'Oh, don't mention it, darling. Now both of you stay out of trouble, you hear?'
'Okey-dokey!' he said with a grin.
Then we left the store and headed down the road, this time with his hand held tightly within mine. I was actually frightened by what had happened. How could I have been so foolish? I had let him down, and despite my thinking that I didn't care, I found myself subconsciously caring for the boy. He was beginning to grow on me, and I found his existence ever more becoming a part of my own. The trees outside were a sea of red and orange leaves, brightly burning throughout the branches and across the surrounding ground. For a moment, it seemed as if the fires were growing, dancing through my head, licking my heart and singeing my soul. I saw in these flaring fires the eyes of a boy; a boy like Peter in almost every way, yet in some way different. It was the eyes; these eyes seemed to emit a dark and hardened hatred, whereas Peter still retained that innocent glow on his person. This boy was cold, emotionless, amoral and apathetic; he stared with a glare of contempt, a deranged wickedness forming at the back of his pupils. His pupils'they too were on fire. The flames in his eyes danced, stirred, lashed out, and retreated to their place of origin. 'Put out the fire,' I thought 'it burns. The heat is too much. Put out the fire for now. I will face it another day.'
'You cannot escape me forever.' The boy said coldly as the flames dimmed. 'I am here inside you still for a reason. You will not rid yourself of this sin you are committing.'
'What sin?' I asked.
'The sins of the father have become the sins of the son. The day will come where you must decide which matters more; who you are or who he was. Prepare yourself.'
The child faded and the flames returned to being leaves. Peter gripped my hand tightly.
'What's wrong, daddy?'
'Oh, nothing, Peter. I was just looking at all of the leaves.'
'They're real pretty, aren't they?'
'Yes, they are.' I replied. 'Very pretty.'
I closed my eyes, turned away and began to walk. I felt the small hand I was holding. The fingers were stubby and short, very much like my own. The nails were gnawed to bits and held little bits of dirt and sand in them. The lines of his hand curved across the palm, going from a zigzagging pattern on one end to a smooth curling loop at the other. I looked at my free hand and examined the lines. I tried to compare them, but the scars of my past had left my hands rough and calloused; no lines were left to be seen. As we came up to the apartment complex, I saw a woman in a gaudy red dress and high heel boots standing outside of the revolving doors. She wore sunglasses though it was cloudy, and her lips were the tone of mahogany. Her dark brown hair fell across her back and stretched past her shoulders to her chest. She had a black suitcase, and with it, a handwritten letter. She saw me and hurriedly came towards me.
'Hello,' she said. Her voice was full of exasperation. 'I am looking for a place to stay for tonight. The hotel I was to be staying at overbooked, though, and I was unlucky enough to be one of the people left without a room. Do you mind if I stay with you until I can arrange a proper place to stay?'
'Uhh'Ķ' I was shocked. This type of stuff usually only happened in movies, but here she was, a beautiful woman standing outside of my home, asking for a place to stay.
'Well, I guess we have enough room. You're welcome to my bed; I'll sleep on the couch.'
'Oh, thank you so much. You're a lifesaver. What's your name?'
'I'm Michael. This little guy's name is Peter.'
'Well, it's nice to meet both of you. My name is Ruth.'
'Happy to have you, Ruth.' I replied.
'Yeah, happy to have you!' said Peter in compliance.
I opened the door and let our guest in. I couldn't find a possible source of this newfound compassion. Normally, I would have politely said no and not thought about it for a minute longer, or I would have had some other ulterior motive. In this case, however, I was simply trying to be nice. I really was changing because of my newfound responsibility, and in many ways, this thought scared me. Would these changes cause a divide between my old friends and me? Would I really be capable of maintaining my old habits and friendships as well as all of my new duties and responsibilities? I hoped for it to never come to a decision between the two because if that instance occurred, I was not sure what my choice would be. I remembered the boy. 'The sins of the father have become the sins of the son.' What did the boy mean? I was nothing like my father. I despised, loathed, hated him for all that he had done to me, and I would never be willing to forgive him. The last thing I would ever do would be to emulate him. He is the furthest thing from what I am.
'Best to just forget it.' I thought. 'Besides, I have a guest and Pete to take care of right now. Can't be getting all philosophical.' I jumped back into reality and headed for the bedroom to grab a pillow and the extra blanket. I placed them on the couch and went on to put away the groceries.
'Do you have anything to drink?' I turned towards her. She seemed even more stunning, with her glasses off and her deep hazel eyes, like the eyes of a lamb, looking back at me. A man could get lost in those eyes. 'Well,' she asked, 'do you?'
'What would you like?' I replied.
'Do you have any wine?'
'Great,' I thought, 'the one type of drink I don't have.' 'Sorry,' I said, 'I don't have any. I do have almost everything else, though.'
'Do you have stuff to make a gin and tonic?'
'Of course. Just give me a couple of minutes, okay?'
'Certainly. Thanks again for your hospitality. I'd probably still be standing outside that door if it weren't for you.'
'Oh, don't mention it. It was nothing. Go head on into the living room. I'll bring you your drink when it's ready.'
I mixed her drink and poured a bit of it into a small shot glass. I tested it to see if it was good. It had a crisp taste, with a cool refreshing bite going down. I refilled the glass and headed out to the living room with glass and pitcher in hand.
'Here you are.' I said cheerfully.
'Thank you very much;' she replied gratefully, 'I needed this drink badly. You wouldn't believe the kind of day I've had.'
'Daddy? Can you make me something to eat?'
'Alright Pete, just a second. We'll talk about your day later, Ruth. I need to take care of him first.'
'Oh, I don't mind.' she said sympathetically. 'I know just how much of a handful a child can be. Take your time; I'll be here when you get back.' I made Pete a cup of chocolate milk and a bowl of cereal and sent him to the kitchen table to eat. He seemed wholly content with the idea of eating cereal for almost every meal of the day, a fact which made my job suddenly a whole lot easier. It seemed to me that I was getting the hang of things. I returned to the living room, spoke with Ruth for a while, and then headed out to get dinner. I asked Ruth to stay and watch Peter for me. She seemed more than willing to repay the favor I had done her, and she agreed to watch Peter for as long as I needed. Things were starting to get back on track, and I began to feel a slight sense of accomplishment. Maybe I could manage to take care of him after all.
