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Five-thirty shone bright and early, the calm morning atmosphere shattered by the shrill sound of an alarm clock, and a sharp cry.
“Mark! Get down here if you want to eat!”
The shout was replied with the sound of a thud, and a grumble from behind my closed door.
The alarm was soundly shut off, silence reigning in the large house once more.
I struggled to get out of the tangle of blankets, managing only to stub my big toe on the oak bedpost, and bite my tongue to stop a curse. After another moment of kicking my feet and a good series of grunting, a small, blonde head popped up from the mess, slim shoulders clad in Ren and Stimpy footy pajamas following soon after. I actually managed to stand, staggering tiredly to my dresser. Somehow, I knew - just knew - that today was gong to be a bad day.
Breakfast was a normal, reoccurring affair. My mom rushed about, serving breakfast to my dad and an empty place setting, cleaning what little dishes she’d dirtied while cooking, and fixing up her own work clothes. I arrived downstairs soon after the latter, stumbling as I attempt to hop on one foot while tying the other shoe.
Once my appearance was organized, I sat down to eat, smearing a good layer of butter before pouring a fair amount of syrup onto my pancakes. My mom gave me a disapproving frown as I stuffed half of a pancake into my mouth, and took a sip of milk halfway through chewing.
“Really, Mark! Learn some manners!” She scolded, shaking her pen at me.
“Really, mom, should you be doing work at the breakfast table?” I asked, mocking her tone. My dad glanced up from his paper, peering over his glasses at her.
“He’s right, Evelyn.” My mother huffed slightly, but closed the folder containing her client’s information and setting it into her briefcase. She took a single glance at her watch and gasped, standing, and running out the door with “I’m going to be late!”
I downed the rest of my milk, depositing the empty dishes into the sink before heading for the front hall to retrieve my backpack. “Bye, dad!” I called back as I pulled my bag onto my shoulder.
I heard him call back, just before I closed the door, “Bye, sweetie! Be careful!” I shook my head, smiling.
I watched in anticipation as the next stop came into view. There was a small group of kids, maybe three or four, but no visual odor nearby. Maybe my luck prevailed? The kids were let on, finding their own places. The bus remained in place.
Waiting…
Waiting…
Waiting…
Ugh!
The seconds ticked by, my mental cheering growing louder with each passing. Seriously, by the time thirty seconds passed, there was a party in my head bigger than New Year’s. Except, no girls were invited. Girls are icky.
I saw the bus driver’s hand twitch for the brake, when I saw it. Rather, saw him.
Billy climbed onto the bus, his stench clinging to him like an overzealous girlfriend (ew!). I forced a friendly grin as Billy dropped next to me. Uh-oh. He looked sweaty. That could only mean…
…B.O.
That’s right, the big one. Body odor. Now, you’d think being ten years old already, one would have a sense of decency to shower already, right? Wrong. Billy either: a, lives alone, or b, has a horrible nose that gave up on him because dang does he smell bad!
“Hey, Mark.” Billy said, friendly as ever. I half-waved in greeting.
“Yo, Billy. What took you so long?” I scooted discreetly away as he smiled. Um, there’s this thing, possibly called…toothpaste?!
“Had to finish my breakfast-” Of sardines or…?- “and I woke late. How was detention yesterday?” I shrugged.
“Same old, same old. But I did just happen to have a little, white mouse with me. I gave it to Mrs. Nelson.” Oh, yes, the mouse. I had it with me all day, planning to give it to Mrs. Nelson as a surprise birthday present. Sure was a surprise, since the mouse managed to chew through the paper bag it was held in, and ended up in Nelson’s bag of Cheetohs.
“She was a little… too affectionate.” I said with a knowing grin. Poor mouse. At least he’s in a better place now, one without Billy or Nelson. Lucky!
After about ten minutes of simple conversation, we were off of the bus and heading for school. There were still ten minutes left before school started so Billy and I said our good-byes, Billy heading for breakfast (go figure) and I, for the lonely bench beneath the oak tree, my book already out. That’s right, I read. Full length novels, actually. When I’m reading, I’m completely engrossed, barely even an earthquake would go noticed. My dad jokes that it’s the only time I’m bearable.
Maybe he’s not joking?
…No, I’m too loveable.
Who am I trying to kid?
Four minutes - no, seconds - into class, and the principal came on the intercom, asking to ‘borrow’ me. What am I, a possession? Well, I went, and upon arrival I knew something was going to be bad, because the secretary - a woman whom I thought hated everybody - gave me a sympathetic frown. I was asked to sit and wait.
By the time the principal asked me into his office, I was shaking, on the brink of my wit’s end.
“Mark,” he greeted simply, gesturing for me to sit. I nearly sat on the floor, but quickly composed myself, at least enough to collapse into the chair provided.
Before he could speak again, I cried out, “I didn’t do it!” Laughter greeted my outburst.
“For once, that isn’t what this is about.” I blinked in astonishment, but calmed slightly. I didn’t do anything? Then what was the point of this? “Now, Mark, I’d like to ask you a few questions.” That evil secretary!
I nodded mutely, allowing him to continue.
“How are your study habits outside of school?” Grades, eh?
I shrugged, merely saying, “Um… Non-existent?” He made a note on the paper placed in front of him, before the interrogation continued.
“How many hours a night do you spend on homework?”
“About… half an hour….” I shrugged. “It doesn’t take me long at all.” Another note.
“Just one more question.” He smiled and I knew something bad was going to happen. “How would you like to-” Oh, here it comes! Brace yourself!- “skip to the next grade?” I nearly melted off of the chair in relief. Then gaped at him in astonishment as his words struck meaning.
“A-are you serious?” I yelped. I think I was hoping it to be a joke.
“Very serious. We’re early enough in the year, you’d be able to catch up with the fourth graders, if you set your limit’s a bit higher. And it’ll help you start your study habits.
“I’ve already called your father, now all we need is your consent.”
“Hey, Mark.” Billy sat next to me, and all I could do was incline my head in greeting. He was like a toe fungus, that Billy. Once you think you got rid of him, he’s back with a fierce itch.
Plus, they both smelled really bad.
I wasn’t a very good interlocutor. All through the ride, Billy attempted conversation, but all I could do was grunt in mock fascination, eyes glazed over as I stared at a hole in the seat. It looked like a cigarette burn. But who would be smoking on this bus?
Do I really care?
Billy left the bus with a disappointed frown. Good, maybe he won’t call tonight for help on his homework.
When I finally got off the bus and watched it roll clanking away, I felt a burst of excitement. I let out a squeal, and ran for home.
As soon as I opened the door, I was enveloped in a tight hug, my short frame easily lifted from the entrance hall tile. My father managed to plant a big, sloppy kiss on my cheek through his breathless, seemingly nonstop rambling.
“So proud… Your mother and I… Love you so much!”
I was deposited onto a chair in the kitchen, a plate of desserts placed before me. Hey, were those lemon bars? My father’s words of, “Dig in,” died on his lips as I shoved two helpings of lemon bars into my mouth. A large gob of tapioca pudding came next, both soon followed by a deliciously still-warm chocolate chip cookie. I loved my dad’s baking, and showed it with great enthusiasm.
After the sweet buffet, my dad pulled me into his game room, and we watched movies and played games until my mom came home.
“What is going on here?” She demanded, hands on her hips, high-heeled shoes dangling in one hand. She reminded me of Superman, using a lawyer as her disguise.
My dad bound up to her, giving her a big hug. If you’re asking, “That’s all? Where’s her freaking kiss?!” Than we’re on the same page here. I’ve never seen them kiss, and whenever they get close to it, my dad makes up some lame excuse. Totally weird, yes, but back to the situation at hand.
“Our son’s a genius!” He practically squealed. I cringed. How could a man’s voice reach that octave?
My mom looked at me like I was the cutest cat in the pet shop. “Really?” She asked, then practically screamed when I nodded. She threw herself on me, and, I think, she was crying.
When my dad was able to pry her arms off of me, she sniffed, and told me dinner was going to be soon. I nodded, walking out of the room, feeling proud.
My hands and face were washed, and I hopped down the stairs happily. I made my parents proud, I was skipping a grade, and I was smarter than a fifth grader - as the principal informed me. What could make this any better?
I placed my hand on the kitchen door, intending to surprise them with my presence, but stopped myself when I heard them talking. Just like any other curious eight year old - or, anybody - I leaned forward, careful to lean on the doorframe and not fall through. I heard my mother’s hushed argument with my father.
“…he’s so happy! I don’t want that ruined!” My mother’s voice sounded strained, like she was fighting the urge to scream. That was definitely it - I’ve heard that voice too many times before.
“Wouldn’t knowing his father was happy make him glad? Don’t you think I matter to him?” He sounded hurt. I frowned.
“No! Because all that matters is that you’re a father to him!” That’s not true! “He’d be crushed if he found you’re doing this!” Can’t I speak for myself? “He does not need another father!” Whoa, what?! He’s making her remarry? To another man? I always thought my father was insane, but… this?
“I’m not doing this to give him another father! I’m doing this out of love! I love him, Evelyn!” Wow, he sure does fight for me. Go- “I love Jacoby, and there’s nothing you can do!”-Jacoby?!
My mind reeled. My father said he loved another man. It all made sense now - the unwillingness to kiss my mother, the gym he has a membership to, the Brittney Spears CD’s…. Why didn’t I see this before?
Oh, yeah. Possibly because I’m eight?!
I took the silence from inside the kitchen as an opportunity, and pushed the door open. Inside, both my parents were in tears, my father slumped over the table, and my mother attempting to serve dinner. Both looked up as I entered, and I nearly crumpled to the ground when my father pounced on me. I heard him whispering, “I love you, I love you…” over and over, and could only meekly nod.
We didn’t eat dinner that night, having a small discussion. I had broken down and told them I heard everything, about my dad’s preference and my mom’s objection. I also discovered my mom’s a homophobe, and - I’m still shocked over this - wanted my father out of the house by morning.
I went to bed that night feeling numb. Only when my stuffed moose was held tightly in my arms and the nightlight was the only source of light, did I break down completely, realization finally settling in.
My dad came in later, hugging me and kissing my forehead, before saying goodnight and whispering, “I love you.” He was gone the next morning, before I awoke.
