Jobs For Al

Eric Brightman started to speak. “You see, when I left y-your mother and grandmother, it was to go the Vietnam War.”

“You fought in Vietnam?” Al asked. “You really did?” he had several friends whose fathers had fought in Vietnam and he had watched a documentary on it on the History Channel once. But he knew almost nothing else about it.

“Yes. I fought in the Second World War as well, but that’s another story. After I finished in Europe, I went to college to get my medical license. I became an accomplished surgeon.” Dr. Brightman’s eyes dimmed a little as he recalled the dusty days of his youth. “What a time that was. I worked hard and it was a bit of an advantage that I had already fought in a war. I wasn’t bothered by blood at all.” -

Al listened with avid attention. “And then what happened?” he asked.

“I got married eventually” Brightman said, leaning back in his chair. “I got married to a wonderful woman named Sophia. I met her at the beach actually. Coney Island. I can still see the hot sun in her hair…” he stopped for a moment. “You know, I cannot believe she is dead” he said. “Just like I can’t believe that Michelle is dead either…I’ve missed so damn much!” he wiped his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you said” Al said hurriedly. He did not do well around other people’s tears; he was not the most empathic person in the world. He got flustered when people erupted into displays of emotions.

“It’s not your fault, so don’t get so upset” Dr. Brightman said. “I just realized how much I’ve missed out on. I’m so sorry, Al” he said suddenly. He gripped Alphonse’s small young ones in his big wrinkled ones. “I deserted your mother and grandmother and…I must admit for a while I never looked back. Not until…” he trailed off.

“Dr. Brightman, I—”Al started, but his grandfather raised his hand.

“No, don’t call me that, please Al. If only as a favor to an old man who has realized too late what his family means, please call me Grandpa Eric. If…” he seemed nervous. “That isn’t too much is it?”

Al was surprised by the request, but he did not mind at all. “Um…I can do that, Dr. Bright—I mean, Grandpa Eric. I can do that.” And so, in that instant, Dr. Brightman was named Grandpa Eric in Al’s mind forever.

Grandpa Eric seemed to relax now that this was over with, and Al wondered if the old man had been as nervous about asking this request about his name as Alphonse was about probing his grandfather’s past.

“Well, where was I…hmm, I remember, I was saying that I met your grandmother and married her. Shortly after that, your mother, Michelle was born. We were very lucky; I was a doctor and your grandmother worked as a secretary for a local law firm.”

“Did you live in California?” Al asked, wondering if perhaps his family had never really left the state.

“No, no we lived in Connecticut” Grandpa Eric responded. “We lived in a town called Concord. Anyway, we lived peacefully for many years.” He pointed to the picture of the man and the little girl on the steps. “That is your mother and I. That was taken when he was around four years of age. Armand took it. He was a friend of mine at the practice, Dr. Grant Armand.” Grandpa Eric’s brow clouded.

“You didn’t like him?” Al asked. He wondered whether or not it was a fight about a woman they had fallen out of favor with each other over. Maybe even Grandma Sophia.

But before he could press that point, Grandpa Eric got up from the chair and crossed the kitchen to the sink. He opened the small drawers under it, and was about to reach inside of it. He had one hand inside the drawer, when he stopped and clutched his chest.

“Grandpa?” Alphonse asked. Grandpa Eric did not respond. Suddenly, Al became alarmed. What was going on? “Grandpa Eric!” he called and quickly crossed the floor to where the old man was standing with one hand in the sink drawer and one at his chest. His hand was clenched there, bunching up the worn blue fabric of his shirt. The knuckles were white.

Oh my God, he’s having a heart attack, oh no, what am I going to do, I don’t know crap about helping someone with a heart attack, oh no—

But as he looked at Grandpa Eric’s face, he saw that it was not twisted in pain. It seemed to be very far away. His eyes were staring straight ahead at nothing and his mouth was open.

“Grandpa Eric!” Al nearly screamed.

“One first feels them in the chambers of the heart” Eric Brightman said in a dull, toneless voice. It was the voice of a machine. Or maybe of a victim of malevolent hypnosis in a movie.

“What?” Al asked. “What about your heart?” his mind raced furiously. “I’ll call 9-1-1, don’t worry. You’re going to be fi—”

“NO!” Grandpa Eric nearly roared. His head whirled around and he pointed at Al with the hand that had been in the drawer. “DO NOT CALL ANYONE ABOUT ANYTHING!”

“N-no, sir” Al whispered. He backed away from the old man who was standing with his legs spread apart, with one hand clutched to his heart and the other pointed at his grandson like the very finger of accusation.

“I’m…I’m a little better now” Grandpa Eric said, and he removed his hand from his chest. As he began to walk toward Alphonse, strange silver light seemed to pass through his blue eyes. “Al, I am very sorry about that. If I scared you…”

“You did” Al whispered. “I thought I was going to faint!” Al sank to the floor in relief, resting his hands on his red Chuck Tailors.

“I’m sorry” said Grandpa Eric. “But Al, I think it is better that you leave right now. I have a lot to think about.”

Grandpa Eric walked closer as he was talking, and Al saw that up close, the old man did not look good. His eyes were watery and the corners of his mouth were twitching. He looked like a frightened animal that has been hunted to near-exhaustion by some hungry predator.

“Wait, is there anything I can do? I really…wanted to hear the rest of your story…” Alphonse hated the way his voice sounded, like a whiny brat, especially when it seemed something was wrong with Eric.

“Yes, that’s right…I do want to tell you, I owe it to you, but…perhaps another day.”

“My dad, he’ll try and stop me. This works for today, but he might find out eventually what I did. Then I’ll be in a whole lot of trouble.”

Grandpa Eric stopped and once again ran his hands through his black and white hair. In the short time that he had known the old man, Al had come to recognize this gesture as him thinking. “I know” he said at last. “I will talk to your father. I’m sure you have complained to him about being bored, yes?”

Al nodded that yes, he had complained to Frank many times about being bored, and was always ignored.

“Well then, this is what we’ll do. I will tell your father that I have a job for you—which I do. If your father agrees, I will pay you ten dollars a day to do these small chores for me, and while you are doing that, I will fill you in on the details of your mother’s side of the family.” Grandpa Eric smiled at Alphonse, but it was not the kind of smile that he had exhibited before. It was a trembling version of its old glory. “With any luck, your dad will swallow the story. After all, it isn’t quite a lie. I really do have some chores I’m willing to pay you to do for me.”

Some of Al’s good spirits returned. “What kind of chores?” he asked. “I know how to mow a lawn and to weed a garden. And I can sweep and—” But Grandpa Eric was shaking his head no.

“No Al, the chores I need done are a little…different from those you would be used to. I need a boy to go to the store and buy something for me, for instance. A boy who would be willing—for a sizeable amount of cash—to buy newspaper or something down the corner.”

Why couldn’t he do these things himself? Al wondered. And then the answer came to him, as strange as it was obvious: Eric was afraid to go outside for prolonged periods of time. He didn’t know that for sure, couldn’t know it for sure without asking (which he would never, never in a thousand lifetimes, do), but it felt right. This answer felt right as hell. “Is that it?” Al asked.

Grandpa Eric was silent for a few minutes. Then he coughed dryly, as if unsure how to begin. Then he pressed his lips together and began. “There is…one more thing” he said. “I would like you to…wait a minute. How long have you lived in Springwood California?”

“All my life” Al responded. “I’ve lived here ever since I was born.”

“Good, good. Then you would know if something were…off in this town?”

“What do you mean by ‘off’?” Al asked. “Like, strange stuff happening around the neighborhood and Springwood?”

“Yes, exactly what I mean” said Grandpa Eric. “I just wanted to ask you that.”

“Yeah, I would notice that” Al said. “I guess I would know if something was up.”

Eric Brightman looked at Alphonse with almost painful intensity. “No, no, I guess isn’t enough. Not enough at all! I must be absolutely certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that you would be able to spot something amiss in this town. So I ask again, are you positive?”

“Yes” Al said in a quiet voice. “Yes, I know I’d notice if something in Springwood wasn’t right.”

“Then I can use your help, Al. I could use it a lot.” Grandpa Eric smiled again and once again Al saw—or thought he saw—silver light flash across the surface of the old man’s strangely bright blue eyes. “Thank you for coming here to talk with me. You don’t know how much it means—to be able to talk with my grandson, with Michelle’s son.”

Alphonse flushed red. “Well, thanks” he looked at his shoes. “I guess I should be going now” he said. “It was great seeing you, Grandpa Eric.” The two of them walked to the door and Eric unlocked it. As he did, Al noticed that the only two keys he had were the ones to the U-Haul van that was outside and the recently acquired ones to the house. He was perplexed. Eric had to be 71 or older…how could a man that old have only two keys to his name?

As he went down the porch steps to his house in the afternoon sunlight, Al saw that Grandpa Eric was standing on the porch and watching to make sure he got back to his house safely. He was standing in the shadows and his hands were in his pocket, his shoulders hunched as if he wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible.

He’s hiding from something Al thought as he reached his own front door and began using the keys. He’s on the run in a major sort of way. That’s why he needs a person to go to the corner and buy newspapers, a boy to go to the store for him. And a boy who knows how to watch out for things that don’t belong.