“Him”

by Gregg G Guydish \xA9 2005

I was sitting on my Big Wheel in the small front yard of my house when He went past. He threw his big black bag in the trunk of His car, then walked to the drivers door. I heard Her yelling as He got in, and glanced back to see. She was angry, waving Her fists in the air. The engine revved and I looked away – He never looked back. He pulled away fast. I spun my trike around and pedaled after Him, to give chase, a smile on my muzzle – She was silent behind Us. The wind was in my hair and my legs pumped hard as I enjoyed our game… He disappeared down the road. I didn’t know it then, but it would be the last time I would ever see Him.

~

I was standing in the backyard, throwing my ball against the house. It made a staccato thrumming as it traveled from my paw to the patio to the house and back again. It hit my mitt with a soft thump. The leather squeaked. I wound up and pitched again, and the pattern repeated itself. The yard was empty. Just me and the ball and the repetition. No encouragement, no recriminations, no friendly banter, just the steady rhythm of aloneness. Over, and over, again.

~

I was in class with a picture of Him. The other kids went to the head of the class and talked about Them, with Them obediently in tow, all smiles and easy gestures. They spoke, we laughed, it was a pleasant diversion to the regular school day. I took His picture when it was my turn, and I spoke about Him glowingly, in warm tones of remembrance. They listened, sometimes whispering to Them. It did not escape my notice. When it was over, They asked me what had happened to Him, where He was, and why He wasn’t there. I told them that He was away, but that He’d be back one day soon. I was sure of it. I didn’t understand Their looks.

~

I sat at the window and looked out at the rain. Behind me I heard Her, humming a familiar tune, the clatter of dishes a dry echo to the patter of wetness outside. I stared eagerly into the street, my paws on the sill, my breath a small fog on the glass where my muzzle nearly touched it. The rain fell in fitful patterns, anxious now and fast, then slow and lazy, like it had all the time in the world to meet with the earth. She came up behind me, all smiles and bright eyes, and spoke gaily to me. I looked away, up at Her, and heard Her words and smiled, eager for it to begin. But my eyes soon wandered back to the window, and the emptiness that beckoned beyond it. My heart quickened with every car that came down the road, and slowed each time they passed. Dusk came early in the gloom, and the setting sun clouded the puddles with muddy rainbows. At last I turned away, using a claw to ease the cut of the elastic under my chin. And another year passed.

~

I stood on the stage, looking out at the audience, my black robes swirling slightly in the restless currents of air. She was there, face proud and happy, and I smiled for Her. My eyes scanned the back of the auditorium, no longer expecting, but ever hopeful, anyway. We milled as names were called, and my friend thumped me on the shoulder. I turned and thumped him right on back, a knowing smile shared in our eyes. We were growing up.

Though I knew I shouldn’t look, that I’d only be disappointed yet again, I couldn’t help myself. I looked anyway. Watched, searched, sought constantly with my wandering eyes, longing that He would be here for this moment. It was a small moment, but an important one. It was the moment when I took my first step as a man.

They called my name, and the moment came and the moment went, and He never came. And I was diminished in my moment.

~

I stood at Her side when the Man came to take Her away from Us. The machines thrummed and chuffed and beat all around Her, Her body reduced to a broken shell, Her life, to a line on a screen. The cancer took hold of Her, held possession of Her, kept Her prisoner and raped and ravished Her brutally for weeks and months on end. There was no way He couldn’t have known about it by now. We told everyone. I was sure that word had reached His ears by this late date.

I watched the machines work and listened to the quiet buzz of the doctors and nurses as they conferred. We spoke at length about Her recovery, but We all knew the truth behind the placebos and the lies. We waited. I stared at the door.

And when that grim Man came to reap his harvest, I was there, Her paw in mine. I heard her breathing stop. I felt her body go slack. I heard the soft click as the doctor turned off the respirator. I did.

~

I sit on the porch and watch Our kittens play. They run and yell and laugh, and I’m happy to be here to see Them. I smile. I hear a soft clamor from inside the house, and the sound is comforting to me. I know that She’s in there, making Our supper. I am content.

I don’t think of Him much these days, my life has moved beyond Him. But He sometimes comes to haunt me in these quiet moments. A visage of the past there to remind me of what We lost, and to tell me of whom I should never be. I do not hate Him, but I cannot love Him. And I know all too well the futility of raging against Him. I suppose I shall simply have to admit that I knew Him once, and that He was my Father.

But I am not Him.

The end