Chapter Six. Wow, this one took a little longer to write than I intentionally meant it to. I believe the way I’ve ended it now and the way I planned on originally ending it (there was going to be this great argument between Andrea and Josh about letting the kids ride the subway.) Anyhow, now it’s done, and ready for all your hungry eyes who have been patiently awaiting it since the beginning of the week. Chapter Seven will be a little shorter, but not by much. Probably around 5,000 words.
Don’t forget that this month is the month that all you crazy wonderful readers should donate to the site in order to feed my new addiction to limeade and quesadillas. Oh, and Twizzlers. Because all of those things are delicious and inspire me. I’ve also decided that as soon as I get to the last chapter (at the current moment, I’m planning something in between fifteen and twenty chapters long) I’ll be shopping for a literary agent. Unless something falls in my lap in between now and the future. We’ll see though. Probably not, but I figure what the hell, it can’t hurt to see if it’s publish worthy, right? Can’t do anything with it until I try.
So, go read now. And leave me some comments. Also, look for the link somewhere on the right where I have the chapters listed. Might help if you want to catch up on former chapters. If you’re a little lazy like I am, here’s a link to Chapter Five. Enjoy!
Andrea just left thirty two seconds ago, and already I’m beginning to panic.
First, I should mention right here and right now that by agreeing to baby sit Andrea’s children, I had selfish intentions. I was “doing the right thing” in order to, and I’ll be perfectly blunt here, get into Andrea’s pants later on tonight.
And I don’t need a lecture at this point. I know this is a totally selfish reason to do something good. But, with a show of hands here, how many of you out there did the “right thing” lately only to make yourself feel good. Or feel prominent in the community? Or even to look cool for a girl or guy?
That’s exactly what I thought. You can put your damn hands down now. And never, ever try to give me crap for what I’ve mistakenly thought would be a good idea.
The second reason is selfish, but for another reason. I don’t like Ben. I’ve only said… oh maybe zero words to him. I didn’t even introduce myself. The only real contact we’ve had was a shake of the hand and a really rotten stare down. But there is something about him I just don’t like. I can’t put my finger on it quite yet. But I know it is there, that one thing that just pisses me off about Ben. Mr. Ben Rochester, I don’t like you. And I’m pretty sure you don’t like me.
So what does my baby sitting for two little kids have to do with my hatred of Ben Rochester? Well, even though I’m not really dating Andrea, I still don’t want her to have to be totally dependent on Ben to come get the kids whenever something important comes up. I want her to develop a trust of me, and most importantly, I don’t want to have to see Ben again unless it is absolutely necessary. So basically, it’s a competition now. Who will the kids have more fun with, daddy or me? I would like to think that the kids will end up having more fun with me in the end, but my opinion is biased, now isn’t it? Thus, I’m in competition for affection I haven’t even earned. Does this make me a sad, horrible little man? There is a good chance that it does.
I should not have done this. This was the most irresponsible decision I’ve ever made in my entire life. Who am I to try to use little kids to get laid? Let’s not even mention the fact that I really can’t take care of myself, much less two small children. It’s like I said before, I have no clue what to do with them. What the hell am I going to do with them for at least a few hours?
I start going through the list of things I could do while scrolling through the phone book on my cell phone looking for my mother’s number. Please god please let her be coming into the city today. Just this once, that’s all I can ask of you right now, is that she is already on her way into the city on the train and won’t mind helping me out here.
Well, there are movies. Wait, the theater doesn’t open until twelve. That’s twohours that I have to cover somehow.
Ah, there’s the number. Let’s just call mom and see what she is up to…
What about a museum. The Met? Or maybe the Natural History Museum?
Ringing…ringing…answer! YES! THANKS BE TO MY MOTHER!
“Hello?” She answered.
“Mom? Hey, it’s Josh.”
“Why, hello Josh. How was your Thanksgiving?”
“It was ok. I made it out without any scrapes or bruises. But then again, that was yesterday. This is today.” Something tugs at my leg. I look down to see that Jake is tugging on my pants leg. He sees my face and sticks his tongue out and waves his hands.
“Ok? Well, that sounds good darling. What can I do for you today?”
“Mom, I need your help.”
The phone is silent for a moment.
“Mom, are you there?”
She sighed, acting as if I was the worst person in the world calling her for help.
“Mom, hello? Can you hear me now?”
“Yes I can hear you Josh. Now what is it dear? Are you in jail or something? Need me or your father to send you a few thousand dollars to bail you out?”
“No, it’s nothing like that Mom. I’m doing the next best thing. I’m babysitting for a friend.”
“You are babysitting? Oh goodness, I can see why you need my help. Goodness sake Josh, you’re a man boy, you can’t be babysitting. Who is it you’re babysitting for anyhow? Those friends of yours, you know, the Goodman’s children? I remember when that atrocious family came skiing with us that time. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a headache in my entire life!”
“Look Mom, you know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have a choice, but I need help here. I’m going to have them for most of the day likely, and I don’t have a clue what to do with kids. Are you coming into the city?”
“Well of course I was Josh dearest. Have you ever known your mother to miss a Macy’s Day after Thanksgiving Sale?”
This is true. In the thirty years since my father made his first ten million dollars off of the patent that he holds for some chemical compound that makes the molecules in gasoline burn just a little cleaner than it did before, she’s gone to the Macy’s Day After Thanksgiving Sale. She went while she was six months pregnant with me, and reports to me every year on my birthday that she was punched in the stomach by a woman who was also six months pregnant for grabbing a horrible looking black dress. My mother didn’t buy the dress, and I guess I turned out ok, right? Well, mostly ok. The woman will go to this sale if not for the prices, then for the fact that at least four catfights break out during the event. And most of the time, they’re way better than any heavyweight championship fight that you’ll pay $100 for. So thus, she rides the train in from the suburbs of Connecticut on the Friday after Thanksgiving. This year she’s running late. Something must have happened this morning that made her so. Normally she camps out in front of the store.
“Well, I know you’ve never missed one mom. You want to help me out here though? I don’t know what I should do with the kids.”
“Oh, take them to Times Square or something. Or you could take them to the Natural History Museum? That would be a nice day out with two small children.”
“Look Mom, you don’t even have to pay for anything for them. Just help me watch them for a little while.”
“And what’s in it for me?”
“I’ll smuggle you some rum at Christmas.”
If there is one way to bribe my mother, it is with Rum. Bacardi is preferential above all others. Or something fresh from Jamaica or the Bahamas would also be appreciated, specifically if it is a spiced rum. My mother loves rum, and can’t get enough of the stuff. She doesn’t have a drinking problem though (unless she has rum.) My father has a large problem with alcohol. My father has so much of a problem with alcohol that we actually sent him to the Betty Ford Clinic. He cleaned up, and has been sober for six years now. I feel bad that I’m even offering to smuggle my mother alcohol into a dry household. I feel that I pay my pertinence every time I buy a pint of vodka for the bum on the corner. I don’t have a drinking problem, my father did. So the house in Connecticut is completely dry. Except for when I bring my mother a fifth of Bacardi and a couple of 2 liters of Coca-Cola. But only when my father is away on business.
“Your father will be away on business next week. You will bring a bottle of Bacardi and your warm body to help me drink it then. For this, you get six hours of my undivided attention on a day where I normally wouldn’t have thrown myself in front of a bullet for your father, much less you.”
“You know Mom, I’m feeling a lot of love from you right now. I mean, I did come from your loins after all. I would think that you would at least throw yourself in front of a bullet to protect me…”
“Don’t ever mention my loins again,” she interrupted. She sighed. “Ok, I’ll help you. Happy?”
“Mom, thank you. I’ll never forget this. You’ll get a bottle of rum every Christmas for the rest of your life.”
“Good boy. Now, you’re at that horrid little pig sty you call an apartment, aren’t you?”
“Same building, but my friend’s apartment, not mine.”
I’m walking around frantically now, looking for shoes and jackets and backpacks and keys and my wallet and cigarettes and a lighter and something that will keep the kids busy on the train. Aha! Keys…
“Darling, meet me at Macys in thirty minutes. If you’re more than five minutes late, I’m not going to help you even if you can find me in the store, which will be highly unlikely.”
“We’ll be leaving in five minutes.”
“Good boy. Now, call me when you arrive.”
Shoes, socks… Coats! Crap, they need coats!
“Samantha, where does your mom keep the coats? We’re going out to go shopping!”
“Does this mean we can go to a bookstore?” Samantha asked.
“NOOOOOO! No more books! No, no, no!” Jake yelled out, kicking his feet up and down at the proposition of having to go look at books.
“Bye dearest, it sounds like you’re leaving in ten minutes, and not five.”
The phone went click. Shit! Shit! Coats. Temper tantrums! Panic!
“We might go to the bookstore. Now you calm down Jake, we get to ride the subway.”
“Mom said we weren’t allowed to ride the subway, because Daddy doesn’t like the bums to ask us for money.”
“Well, I promise you when the bums take one look at me, they won’t be asking us for money, ok?”
“But Mom said…” Samantha protested, but I cut her off.
“Samantha, is your mom in charge right now?”
“Well no,” Samantha said.
“Ok. So let’s make a pact. What your mother doesn’t know right now doesn’t hurt her, right?”
“Well, yes, that is true, I guess.”
“So why don’t we keep the subway thing between you and I, ok?”
“Ok,” she agreed, and we found coats and little shoes and little socks and we all went out into the wide world via the elevator.
The old lady with the blue hair must have only taken a few days off, because she was back already, being overly judgmental of me today. I’m not sure what it is she doesn’t like about me. Maybe it’s the music, or maybe it’s the fact that I play the music too loud in the elevator and annoy her. But today, I think she doesn’t have anything against me. She sees two small children, and nods her head, her white hair bobbing a bit with her head as it goes up and down. And she looks down at Jake, seeing him and looking at his face. She smiles at him, and he smiles back at her.
“Why, hello there Jake,” she said. “How are you doing today?”
“I’m GREAT!” Jake said. “We’re going shopping!”
“Really? And what pray tell are you going to buy today?” she asked.
“Um, I think I’m going to get a water gun, and a toothbrush, and I’m going to buy a water scooter, and a really big chocolate bar!”
“I don’t know how you’re going to get it all home. I believe Mr. Franklin here is going to have to help you carry it all home, won’t you Mr. Franklin?”
Huh. I’ve been riding this elevator for the two years that I’ve lived here, and the old lady has never once spoken to me. I didn’t know she even knew my name. This is kind of weird. I’m not even really sure what to say.
“Well,” I said, “I guess I could get most of that home. I think the water scooter would be a little too heavy, even for me. But the really big chocolate bar, we might eat that on the way home.”
The old lady chuckled as the elevator finally arrived at the lobby. The doorman was there, and saw Jake and smiled. Everyone seems to know Jake, and I’m not sure why.
“Why, hello there Jake, are you having a good day today?”
“Yep!” Jake said to the old man.
“Well, that’s nice. You three have a wonderful day now, you hear?”
“Ok!” Jake said excitedly.
We walked out of the building and towards the subway. The stop was across the street beside the store I shop at, a quick walk to and from my building on any normal day. But this day, I had small children with me, and thus this made the crossing that much more difficult to me. Why, you might ask, is it more difficult for me to cross the road? Well, first off, I have to hold hands with both of the children. Especially Jake’s hand, because I have this picture in my mind of him running away into the street and getting hit head on by a taxi. I could see it now, all in slow motion in my mind’s eye. His body lying prone on the ground, the energy that he once had all escaping in a lone breath as he lay there dead. No breath. No heartbeat. Not a single sign of life at all. The paramedics wouldn’t be able to save him. The taxi driver wouldn’t have been at fault. If he dies crossing the road, he’ll never get to the other side, and I’ll be ultimately responsible for his death. I really don’t want that sort of drag hanging over my head today. So thus, we all hold hands.
And we get to the other side. And we go down onto the station platform. They stand with me while I buy subway tokens, enough for everyone to get to and from wherever we’re going. Macy’s is only a few stops up from where we live on the Orange line. So it’s not like we’re going too far, and the trip should only take about 10-15 minutes. I’ll be cutting it close…
We make it on the train heading towards Herald’s Square right before it pulls out of the station. We walk on the train, and luckily, find seats for the three of us to sit down next to each other. Jake sits on my right, and Samantha, with rapt attention on everything in the car, to my left. Jake is disinterested in the fact that we’re taking the subway, like it’s an everyday inconvenience to him going to and from wherever it is a 6-year-old boy would be going on Manhattan Island. Samantha, on the other hand, is absolutely fascinated with the Subway. This is her first time riding the subway, and she stares at the doors shutting automatically as if they were a special magic that she wanted to reproduce. The noises, the movement, and the darkness of the tunnel in contrast with the light of the car kept her attention at all times.
Jake on the other hand, decided to stare at a Puerto Rican teenager who was headed home to the Bronx sitting across from us.
“Hi!” Jake said to him.
The guy across from Jake looked up at him and smiled a little. For once, here is a New Yorker that wasn’t acting with complete indifference to the environment around them. This young man was apparently aware of the rules that you never start a conversation on the subway unless you have complete and utter eye contact with the person you happen to be speaking to. That was rule one of speaking with someone on the subway. The second rule is that conversation on a subway car that is nowhere near full for this time of the morning. This is normal for the day after Thanksgiving, and will be mostly par for this time of the day since the market is already open on Wall Street and most of the people who have the day off will be inside eating leftovers and watching bad movies on cable. Or something along these lines, because the population of this city is so damn predictable it’s scary. Really, really scary.
The guy looked up at him and said hi back.
“What’s your name?” Jake asked him.
The guy chuckled and shook his head. “My name is Jesus de la Hoya-Marquez. What’s your name, Chiqutito?”
“My name is Jake!” Jake yelled over, and laughed. “What are you doing?”
Jake is so innocent, and Jesus is playing along so nicely. This could be a complete disaster waiting to happen though. Please don’t let this turn into a disaster. Please, just hear my prayers just this once God.
“I’m going home, what are you doing Jake?”
“We’re going shopping!” Jake said excitedly. He looked over at Samantha and me, and shook his head.
“You are? I wish I was going shopping today. I could get my little brother something for his birthday. He’s about your age, I think. How old are you Jake?”
“I’m this many!” Jake said, holding up six fingers and counting them off, “one, two, three, four, five, six. SIX!”
Jesus chuckled. “Well Jake, you just happen to be the same age as my brother.”
We pulled into the station, and Jake started to climb up on his seat right as the train came to a halt. He fell backwards onto the seat next to him and said “whoops! I’m ok!”
“You be careful there Jake, ok man?” Jesus said to Jake.
“Ok. Bye Jesus!” Jake called back as we got up and walked through the doors. I looked at Samantha and Jake holding my hands, and I saw the sad look of Samantha having to leave the subway. It really broke my heart, it did. We went through the turn styles, walked up the stairway and came out right in front of Macy’s. Perfect timing…
My mother is standing directly across the street from us, looking over from her point of view we must have looked like a motley crew of two small children and a man boy. She saw us and waved over, looking at least somewhat excited to see me.
Well, I guess we’ll see after I finally get to cross the street. I hate having to wait for stoplights! I blame my parents for my lack of patience, but only because they always gave me exactly what I wanted and when I wanted it. Here’s a fact of life: when you have lots and lots of money like my mother and father do, you tend to be able to do whatever you want. And when you make more of it like I have, you can really just sit around all day and do nothing. I chose to work because I get bored. But I still get what I want. So my parents don’t have to wait for anything. Imagine not having to wait to board a flight at the airport, having to go through security with the rest of the people who travel. Imagine not having to wait in line at a busy restaurant, not because you have so much money you can pay off the host or hostess, but because you own the restaurant and always have a table reserved. Imagine not having to wait for a cab when you’re late, because you have a car and driver that will carry you around the city to wherever you need to go. And not just some immigrant who can’t speak the language taxi driver, but a local who knows the area and makes a salary. And has benefits, like dental and eye care. That kind of money can break down all doors and shuffle you to the front of every line. Now that’s fast food.
We make it across 34th street and meet my mother on the corner with no time to spare. She hugs me and greets me like she normally does, trying to straighten my hair and looks at my face by moving my head around by my chin. I hate this treatment, because I feel more like a child every time she does it. I normally would put up a fight, but today I’m being a good little man boy. I don’t want to make any waves in front of the children. Otherwise I might be completely stuck with them for six hours and have not a clue of what to do with them.
My mother, after examining me, looks down and sees Samantha on my right and Jake on my left. Her eyes light up at the two children, and she smiles, and I introduce them.
“Mom, this is Samantha and Jake.”
“Hello Samantha, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Mom said, shaking her hand, and turned towards Jake. “Hello, Jake, it’s wonderful to meet you too.”
“Hi!” Jake exclaimed.
Samantha didn’t say anything, yet. She was playing shy, and for what reason I couldn’t possibly fathom. The difference between Samantha and her mother were that Andrea was more like Jake. Andrea seemed to be more outgoing and talkative. Maybe Samantha takes after her father.
“Well, now that we’ve all know each other, shall we go inside?” My mom asked.
But Jake apparently wasn’t ready to brave the crowd of crazed women who would be shopping until the last sweater was laid out on the table, and a kung fu fight between the two women left looking for that sweater would prove to be our entertainment for the day. He wouldn’t budge.
“Come on Jake, let’s go inside,” I said. Still, he wouldn’t move.
“What’s the matter?” My mom asked Jake.
“What’s your name?” Jake asked.
“What?” My mom replied, not sure of where Jake was going with this and not sure how to take it.
“What is your name?” Jake asked again, with a hint of impatience with my mom in his voice, as if this was the most obvious chain of questioning ever.
“Well, I’m Molly. Molly Franklin. But you can call me Molly or Mrs. Franklin,” my mom replied.
“Ok.” Jake said, and we all started to walk inside, except for my mom. Now my mom wouldn’t budge. What was this, twenty questions day?
“Jake dear, before we go inside,” my mom began, kneeling down to his height so that she could look at him better, “why did you ask me what my name was?”
Jake made a face. Not the kind of confused face you would normally see when someone is asked this question, but more of a “oh this woman must be stupid” face. This was going to be great, I could already tell. Not to mention that my mom had to ask Jake this a little more loudly than she normally would have because the traffic noise was picking up since lunchtime traffic was starting.
But Jake, regardless, gave quite possibly the best answer I have ever heard to a question in my entire life. He said, “My mommy told me that I’m not supposed to go anywhere with strangers and if I know your name then you’re not a stranger so I wanted to know your name so I could go inside and look at the water scooters with you and Josh, Molly.”
My mom straightened back up, went “huh” and decided that it all suddenly made sense. “Well Jake, I guess you’re right. Now that we all know each other’s names, why don’t we go inside and see what sort of trouble we can get into, shall we?”
Jake answered that question by enthusiastically running inside the doors and yelling back “c’mon!” to Samantha, my mom and me.
Oh Lord, please forgive me for what I am about to do today. I am sure that in some way today, I will commit a sin that you will probably need to forgive me for.
We enter the grand cathedral of capitalism through the front revolving door. A swarm of people are inside, all over the place women of all shapes and sizes are shopping for Christmas presents and gifts of all kinds on this holy day of Capitalism. There is a long, main carpeted walkway with rows of columns on each side going up to the roof, and flanked by glass counters peddling wares of all sorts – perfumes, jewelry, those horrible knick-knack gifts that middle aged women collect. Everything can be purchased at Macy’s, literally the world’s largest store with 1 million square feet of sales space. And believe me, Macy’s using EVERY BIT OF THAT SPACE. The store’s mysticism is heightened with the decorations for Christmas, a beautiful combination of Christmas trees and wreaths, mistletoe and red ornament balls. Jake and Samantha were looking up at all of the decoration in the same wonder lust that I myself had, and they both exclaimed “wow!” in a low voice of amazement. Jake must have been thinking how much fun he could have in this store, how many days it would take to find all the good hiding spots for Hide and Go Seek. Samantha was probably wondering where the bookstore was.
“Josh!” my mother exclaimed, looking annoyed that I was in awe just like the children.
“Sorry Mom,” I apologized. I’m always apologizing to the woman. When will I grow some testicles and say what I feel like I should say?
“Look darling,” my mother said, “why don’t you take little Jake and you boys go do something. You’ll not really like shopping anyhow. You could up to Central park and play on the playground! Yes, that sounds like a novel idea, doesn’t it?”
Jake loved this idea. “THE PLAYGROUD?!? Let’s go! Let’s Go!”
I think my mother is trying to get rid of me. I know what she is doing. Dividing the children into separate entities make them easy to handle and calmer. Well, maybe Samantha, but not Jake. Jake will be a bundle of energy no matter what I do. Eh, what the hell, I thought. I only live once, right?
We’re at a playground in Central Park after a cab ride that took 30 minutes in midtown traffic. Honestly, I’m surprised it didn’t take longer. Jake started up a conversation with the cabbie, who knew very little about the English language, so the conversation was very one-sided.
“Hi,” Jake said to the cabbie.
“Hello,” the cabbie said back.
“How are you?”
“Good.”
“What’s your name?”
“Good.”
“Your name is Good? That’s a funny name.”
“Good.”
See what I mean?
Thirty minutes later, we’re playing pirates on the playground equipment.
“Arg matey! Ye be ready to join me in me piratin’ ways, or ye be about to walk the plank?” I asked.
“Never! I’ll never join you!” Jake yelled as the ship tumbled on imaginary swelling seas in an imaginary blowing storm.
His sword and mine met, a sharp loud clank from the two pieces of steel coming together.
“Arg, you’ll never beat the great Cap’n Josh Franklin! I be the greatest pirate cap’n de high seas had ever seen!”
“Yes I will matey!” Jake yelled and charged at me. We ran all over the ship in a silly fashion, our wooden sword meeting as we both fought for dominance of who would be the greatest pirate captain of all time.
“Arg matey, I’ll be sendin’ you to Davey Jones’ Locker!” I shouted over the whistling wind of the storm. And just as my final blow was about to come down….
“JOSHUA WILLIAM FRANKLIN!” my mother yelled. “You come down here with that little boy this instant!”
There was no storm, and the seas were nothing but cedar chips that were around the fake pirate ship.
“Josh! We have to go down the slide now,” Jake said. And so we did, and I went first, landing with a thud at the bottom on my butt. Jake came down right behind me, landing on my back and climbing on top of my shoulders with an excited look on his face and with enough force to cause me to lunge forward a bit. I braced myself with my hands as he climbed up, and finally draped his legs over my shoulders.
“Giddy up!” Jake yelled.
“Oh, buddy!” I exclaimed as I tried to get up on my feet. It took a minute, first resting on my knees and then on my feet.
“Hi Molly!” Jake greeted my mother.
“Hello Jake,” my mom replied, and then turned her attention to me. “Josh, what the hell were you doing up there?”
“I was playing pirates. On the ship.”
“Sword fighting with a 6-year-old? Jesus Josh, you could have hurt him!”
“It’s not like they’re real swords Mom,” I argued. “Besides, he started the fight. He tried to kick me off the ship, and told me I wasn’t the greatest pirate ever, but that he was.”
My mother sighed and looked at me, chuckled for a second and then exclaimed “goodness gracious. Anyhow, I’ve got to get back to the house. Your father isn’t feeling well today and he needs me more than you do.”
Oh shit. Now I’m screwed.
“So Samantha, I must leave now. I hope you enjoyed your manicure and pedicure.”
“I did Mrs. Franklin,” Samantha replied.
“Well, I’m glad you did.”
“Thank you Mrs. Franklin,” Samantha said.
“You’re welcome dear,” my Mom replied.
My mother and I hugged before she departed, and wave at Jake, and walked away.
“I’ll call you later Mom,” I shouted towards her back as she walked away. She spun around real quick, smiled and waved at me, and shouted back “you better!”
A bicyclist swerved out of her way and the messenger yelled out an obscenity as he passed. My mother, full of dignity that goes with a woman in her position and status in society, turned back around and ignored him, and walked away down the path.
Well, shit. Do I just take them home now? I’m not sure what to do. They’re both looking at me, expecting me to have a plan for what they were going to do for the rest of the day. The smartest thing to do would be to take the kids home and let them watch cartoons and pig out on junk food, the sort of thing that would be expected of me. But I’ve never been the smartest person, nor have I ever followed the stereotypes.
We could still go out to the movies. Maybe go see one of those new animated movies, the cool ones that take the best of computer animation and multiply it by like a billion and take forever and a day to make but are always hilariously contemporary and feature actors like Mike Myers in Shrek or Chris Rock. You know, the great comedians of this generation that always do great things and have great stereotypical roles.
The buzzing of my cell phone in my pocket interrupts my thoughts, and so I go to pull it out of my pocket and pick it up. I think of the joke that I always hear from my coworkers, the one where it goes something like is that your cell phone or are you just happy to see me?
“Hello?” I answered.
“Josh, it’s Andrea. Where the hell are you?”
“Central Park, why?”
There was silence. I don’t really like it when people are silent on the other end of the phone, because it defeats the purpose of owning a phone to begin with. Phones are designed by talented and creative people to be used to talk to another person over a huge infrastructure that requires millions of man-hours to build and maintain, not to be silent to someone on the other end. I mean, that’s why I pay all this money, right?
Andrea finally speaks. “Why are you in Central Park?”
“Because I brought Jake here,” I said.
“Mhm. Well, where’s Sam?” She asked.
“Oh, well she’s with us too.”
“Well, ok,” Andrea said. “Say Josh, how about you come back and let me into my apartment. Since you know, you have my key and all. Oh, and while you’re at it, why don’t you just go ahead and bring my children back to me as well. I dunno, I thought that maybe getting to hang out with my babies today would be cool. But that was just a crazy thought I had.”
Man, I love sarcasm, even when it’s an agitated woman letting it loose from a very overactive imagination.
“You know, you could come here. Watch Jake thwart the infamous pirate captain Josh Franklin.”
“Um, I don’t think so Josh. I really want to stay at home today. You know, get to vegetate on the couch and pig out on junk food and watch bad romance movies on Lifetime. And maybe do some Christmas shopping online.”
“Why?”
There was silence again. I really get a little agitated at the silence. And I was getting agitated at the continued silence now. She sat there on the other line, sighed and spoke again.
“You know what, screw it. It’s good that the kids are outside, right? I mean, they’re getting exercise and they’re having fun. So you know what, I’ll come to you.”
“Ok,” I said. “Everything all right?”
“Well,” Andrea said. “Oh, I don’t know. We’ll talk about it when I get there.”
“Arg! Ye be walkin’ de plank now Cap’n Josh,” Andrea said, pointing the wooden sword at my back.
“Arg, never!” I yelled.
We were playing pirates again. During the time before we joined Samantha and Jake on the ship in the rough seas of an imaginary Caribbean storm, Andrea explained to me that her time at work was pretty much wasted, which pissed her off. And then her boss decided to tell her that she had to inform a team-member Monday that he was being let go Friday.
She explained further that “he’s got two kids that are less than 3-years-old and a beautiful young wife. His kids are barely out of diapers and they’re going to fire him because we need to ‘downsize’ and ‘outsource’ part of our IT department just so we can make a couple of extra bucks. I feel bad for him Josh, I really don’t know what to do.”
But as pirates typically do, they always tend to make you feel better than you were before. Maybe it was the funny dialect of their ocean-going speech, or maybe it was the horrible scruffy beards and the peg legs, but pirates always make me feel better. And apparently, they helped to cheer up Andrea too. She had transformed herself from the old “I’m down on my corporate job” Andrea to the shrewd pirate queen of the seven seas, the greatest pirate captain of Araby, and the lady who was about to push me off the plank and onto the fire pole. Which was really cold. I still tried to back my way off the plank and back onto the ship, so that I would die a valiant pirate captain’s death rather than be eaten by the sharks now circling the ship, smelling the blood in the air. But instead of getting a fighting chance when I avoided the first thrusts of swords into my belly when getting off the plank and back onto the solid ship’s deck, I was stabbed in the back by Samantha, the sword going through the space in between my back and my arm, and I fell on the deck. I had a pretend, overly dramatic agonizing death.
Andrea, Samantha and Jake all began to cheer as the greatest pirate captain in the whole wide world was now vanquished by a single thrust of the sword. As I writhed on the deck in my pretend pain, shouting out my prayers to the gods that their pirating days be short and that all the treasure they get turn to dust, and that the almighty take me into heaven and forgive me of all my sins, they began to laugh. They’re eye patches and sashes looked silly on them with their heavy coats on, and I began to laugh too. The only thing that really could have completed the outfits was a fake parrot, scruffy beards and some fake teeth with the appearance of scurvy on the denture gums.
I finished my false death on the deck, and my final words were “may de gods of teh sea avenge me!” I pretended to draw my final breath and my head turned to its side with my mouth open.
Jake jumped on top of me, and revived me. “Get up Josh! I’m bringing you back to life! I’m not done with you yet!”
“Arg matey! Ye be walkin’ the plank with the rest of ye mutinous braggards!”
It still amazes me how simple life can seem for a child. They can go on thinking that when a bomb goes off on the TV screen in a cartoon, no one dies. Or when you’re playing pirates on the playground, or cops and robbers, or something, when someone dies they can just come back to life. It’s just too simple, too easy. I’m not saying that children should have a hard life, or have to experience things like death or starvation early, or even have it anywhere near as difficult as adolescents do in middle or high school. Nay, I believe that children should be able to have a childhood filled with play and pretend. Imagination and creativity are the only things a child should have to even think about focusing on. So a childhood is a needed thing, one without toil and strife. Some children in Ethiopia don’t have childhoods. But this is the way the world is, and nothing can be done about it.
But Samantha and Jake, they have a childhood. To me, they are great kids who are smart, and creative, and full of imagination. These kids, they deserve a childhood.
We continue to play pirates for the next hour or so, and we all go home. Andrea finally decides that we’ve had enough of pirates and that she is hungry, and it’s time for lunch. She calls the driver of the car that they have. I’m not exactly sure why it is they even need a car, so I ask.
“Because, it’s part of the divorce deal. Ben provides us with a car and a driver.”
“What is with that?” I ask.
“Well, he has this unnatural fear of subways and mass transportation.”
“That’s just weird.”
“I think it has something to do with the fact that his family is old money,” she said.
“Well, isn’t that special,” I said.
We got into the car outside of Central Park. The kids got in first, into this nice looking Cadillac limousine, complete with television and leather seats. Jake is bouncing up and down on the seat and Samantha looks out the window up at the tall buildings that flank the drive home. Andrea sits on my left, myself being the last person inside of the car and she has her hand on top of mine, rubbing it a little. Is this a sign or something? I have no clue, because when it comes to women and signals, I am completely clueless. Is she trying to silently come onto me? Or is it something else, something a little less than what I expected. Thank you rubs on the hand for watching the children while she was away at work. Who knows? And I don’t really care, honestly. I just like the touch of her hand on mine.
The car stops in front of the building, and the driver hurriedly gets out of the driver side and runs around, opening the back door. The driver says goodbye to us and we walk through the open door where the doorman says hello to Jake. The old lady, who has just arrived back from wherever it is she goes during the day, holds the elevator door. She smiles at Jake, Samantha and Andrea as Jake presses the button for the fourth floor. He does this in such a way that he holds up his four fingers and looks at his mother, looking for approval that he has hit the right button. Andrea looks down at him, smiling and nodding that her son is so intelligent. I look up to see the old lady looking down, and turning her attention to me, giving me a polite nod. I told you the old bitch doesn’t like me.
I get off on the fourth floor with the happy family and Andrea her key back. She gestures for me to head down the hallway with them, and so I do. Jake hurriedly runs ahead of us with his wooden sword in hand, charging the unseen imaginary evils of the fourth floor hallway and vanquishing every foe with a mighty yelp as his mighty wooden tool of war comes down on his enemies with a fatal blow.
Samantha walked patiently in front of us with a little distance while Andrea and I talked. We came to the door, and she rushed off to retrieve her brother from further combat, affording Andrea and I a little privacy.
“Thank you for what you did today,” she said. “I think they both had a really good time.”
She took my hand again in hers, gently squeezing it.
“Well,” I began, “it was nothing really. I had lots of fun with them.”
“I’m sure you did. Not every day that you have an excuse to play on a playground, now is it?”
“I would have liked to have gone on the swing set if we had time.”
“But it’s not every day, right?”
“No, it’s not every day that I get to play with little kids on the playground.”
“Well, this is us,” she said, gesturing towards the approaching children as we stood in front of her door.
“Yep.”
“What are you doing tomorrow night?”
I looked at her questioningly, and the only thing I could think of to say was “nothing that I know of…”
“Well then,” she said, cutting me off, “you can come over and eat dinner with me, can’t you?”
“Just you?”
“Ben is coming back over tomorrow morning to take them to see his parents in Connecticut.”
“Ah, I see.”
“So I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner then, right?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said.
“Good.”
She leaned in and kissed me, placing her cold hand on the small of my back, a kiss that made my toes twinge and my spine tingle.
Then she broke the kiss, and unlocked the door and went inside. I walked away listening to the chants of “Mommy and Josh, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!”
When I finally got back upstairs from the elevator ride, I came to my own door and opened it with a little weight on my shoulders. I hoped that I would get to see Andrea and her wonderful children in the weeks and months to come again and again. I didn’t see the plate of brownies sitting on the floor, and I accidentally stepped on them. When I did, I heard a shrill shriek come from close to the stairs and a door closing with a loud thud.
“Damn it! Who leaves brownies in front of a door like this? What the hell?”
I shouldn’t have asked questions I already knew the answer to, like I always tend to do in situations that I don’t quite understand. There was a card.
Josh – Sorry for getting totally trashed last night and screwing up Thanksgiving for you and Caroline and Marcus. I hope this is a little bit of consolation for you. Love, Rachel.
I already knew this was going to get ugly. At least they were wrapped in cellophane, so they were still edible, right? I do like my brownies, after all.
Lisa
4 years ago
Just one word for this chapter “Terriffic” I loved it