As I burst through the front door to my parent’s house, my mom sprang off the couch and ran to me. She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tightly while she whispered, “You came home.” Then the tears flowed from her eyes again.
After my mom let me go, Uncle Ron came over and shook my hand. “I’m glad to see you.”
“I said I would come home, so here I am.”
After we had said our hellos, we didn’t talk much. Even during dinner, my mom left the tv blaring, which was fine with me. A noisy house was much better than a quiet house where sad thoughts would sprout from the quietness.
I know my mom was going through hard times. She would switch off the tv at dinner time, so the family could share a moment together as we ate the most important meal of the day or at least until my dad got sick. Then my mom and I shared many quiet dinners together.
The home felt empty, eerie, surreal. I excused myself and headed to my room but stopped at the spare bedroom’s door.
I turned the knob and walked into the spare bedroom where my stricken father hid away from the world. I’m not even sure the last time I had entered this room. It had to be years. I was surprised to see the room’s shape – the bed was made, no discarded objects tossed on the floor, and no dirty clothes hanging on the backs of chairs or piled in a corner. The room was spotless while the smell of potpourri filled the room like a field of flowers. As I walked around in this room, only the trashcan indicated signs of my dad’s existence. I saw the wastebasket filled with Snicker bar wrappers. I sat down on the edge of his bed.
I noticed the old baseball and mitts lying on the bed stand. I couldn’t believe my dad kept them after all these years. I picked up my mitt and slipped it on. Wow, a little snug. Then I tossed the baseball up in the air and caught it a couple of times.
I slipped the mitt off and placed it next to me. Then I saw the photo albums lying on the bed. Dad must have leafed through them when he knew death hid under the bed, waiting for him to fall asleep.
I picked the top photo album and browsed through it. I studied every picture on every page as the tears flowed down my cheeks.
I saw my mom and dad’s high school graduation pictures. Then pictures of my mom and dad dating. They looked so young, vibrant when they had the whole world in front of them.
They had several pictures where they were sitting on a park bench near a duck pond, where my dad proposed to my mom. Then wedding pictures filled several pages.
I picked up the second album. The whole album was the first seven years of my life – my birthdays, Christmases, and Thanksgivings.
I picked up the third album and only half was filled with pictures. The older I got, the fewer pictures the family put into the album. Of course, that’s when the cancer arrived and the family stopped enjoying life.
I saw the last picture, where I stood hugging my mother as I wore the high school ceremony graduation robes. I remembered that day - only mom came. That’s when my dad started locking himself up in his room to hide from the world.
I saw my dad scribbled a note below the graduation picture – I’m sorry Jax. I wanted to say goodbye to you, but I didn’t want you to see what the cancer did to me. Whatever you do in life, I’ll always be proud of you. I love you. Dad.
I grabbed the photo albums and stacked the mitts on top with the baseball wedged into one of the mitts.
Walking to the door, I saw a Snicker’s bar lying on top of the dresser. I grabbed it and placed it on the mitt with the baseball and headed to my room.
I locked my door and pulled the money and checks out from my backpack and counted it – three thousand, five-hundred and fifty-three dollars in cash and about twelve hundred in checks.
I mumbled, “Well dad, would you still be proud of me if you knew how I was financing college?”
Something kept scratching the back of my mind. Something was not right. Eureka! I didn’t have my black skeleton key. I turned my pockets inside out. Nothing! I grabbed my backpack and opened every pocket and dumped everything out. Nothing! I turned the backpack upside down and shook it. Kumbang, dammit! Several pens and coins fell out but no key. Shit!
I sat down and tried to think – when was the last time I saw it. I closed my eyes and tried to remember. Then I heard my mom call from the bottom of the stairs, “Jax, you wanna watch tv.”
I yelled, “Okay mom. I’ll be right down.”
I grabbed my backpack and slipped the checks into the bottom pocket and the money into the top pocket. Then I went downstairs to watch the news with mom and my uncle as we sat in silence.