Frank watched as the second to the last kid got picked for the softball team. That left him, standing alone on the foul line, looking up at whose team he’d be on. Billy gave him a disgusted look and waved him over.
Frank hauled his huge bulk to the crowd of kids. Billy went through where everyone was going and then frowned at Frank. “Just stand around in the outfield. You’ll bat first so we can get that out over with.”
The kids split up onto the field. Billy pitched, and Frank waddled out to the outfield. Frank hated gym. Nearly everyone else was smaller than him, and could at least hit the ball once, or could catch them. He looked out at them – at least they had a father around that would practice with him. He never did.
David told him to just go “way out there” so he headed to the wall. He couldn’t figure out how to use the glove, so he took it off.
He watched the other kids play, while he kept his attention on the grass, looking for four-leaved clovers. It was something he did when he was bored and lonely, wishing that if he actually plucked one he could make a wish on the faery that owned it.
They yelled at him to come in from the outfield, and he walked down, knowing that if he even jogged their way it would start up his asthma.
“Go bat, get it over with,” snapped Billy, handing him an aluminum bat. Frank bowed his head and stepped up to the plate. He looked over at Wes, who was the pitcher for this team. He pitched underhanded to him.
Frank tried, but missed – and missed all three times. He glanced at Mr. Zambrano, the gym teacher, sheepishly, but he said, “You can try next time.”
He sat on the bench, making it creak with his weight. He happened to look up at the other set of batting cages and saw a man seated in the bleachers. It was a blond man in a black leather jacket, watching the proceedings curiously. Zambrano went over to the man to talk to him.
The game continued, and Frank watched, not really caring. When he looked back at the bleachers, the man was gone.
He walked home laden with books. He heard the roar of a motorcycle, and turned around. He watched the bike come sidle up next to him. Sitting on the bike was a man, along with a monkey – with a helmet – on his back.
“Hey,” the blond man said, and cut the engine so he didn’t have to yell at him. The blond man’s leather jacket looked the worse for wear, and he had a red patch over his heart saying “Member”.
The monkey wore the same kind of leather jacket, except he had a “Mascot” where the other one’s member patch was. Frank stared at the bike, and the guy, and kept going back to the monkey. The monkey bounced on the man’s shoulder and cried, “Ooook!”
“Cat got your tongue, kid?” the guy asked with a small grin. “This is Eeep.”
Eeep then held out his paw. Frank blinked, and shook the tiny paw. Eeep chuckled and then bounced again, scratching under his armpits. “What’s your name?” the guy asked Frank.
“F…Frank.”
The man looked him over. “You’re a mighty big kid, Frank. How old are you?”
“Fourteen.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “Uh huh, must have gotten it from your mother’s side.”
“You know my mother?”
“I do,” he said. He scooted forward on the bike. “C’mon, I’ll bring you to your house.”
The monkey stayed on the man’s shoulder, and Frank looked around. He didn’t even know how he could climb onto the bike. He never had learned how to ride a bike. He put one arm over and looked for a moment at the man’s motorcycle patch on his back: The top said “Iron Horsemen”. In the middle was a stylized horse’s head in motion with an “M” and “C” flanking it, and at the bottom was “Sharkhead”.
The bike started, and he took off – Frank grabbed a hold of the man’s waist and held on tight. The monkey was a lot more risky, holding onto the man’s jacket collar with one hand.
They weren’t far from the house, and he pulled up into the driveway, parking next to his mom’s car. Frank struggled to get off, half-falling backwards. The man grabbed a hold of his forearm in a tight, relentless grip and righted him. “Don’t ride much, eh?”
“Uh, no…”
Eeep stayed on the man’s shoulders. They stood together awkwardly. “Well, are you going to get your mom?”
Frank went around to the kitchen in the back. He paused at the sliding-glass doors, looking inside to see his mother there. The man paused at the patio, waiting. Frank opened the door. “Hi, mom. There’s someone out here for you.”
His mother wiped her hands on a towel and put down the knife she was using to chop up an onion. She also wiped her face with the side of the towel not used, as her eyes were red and puffy. “Who?”
“He didn’t tell me his name, but he has a monkey.”
“A what?” She looked at him with a strange look on her face. She walked over to him, and stopped short at the threshold.
The man smiled. “Hi, Shirl.”
Frank had never seen his mom’s face go through so many emotions before in his life. She walked out of the house, walked right up to him.
“How are–”
SLAP! Frank’s eyes widened at the sound, and at seeing his mother lash out and hit someone else.
“I suppose I deserved that,” he said, touching his cheek, while the monkey moved down off his shoulders to hang onto his neck and dangle down his back.
“You get me knocked up and just LEAVE ME!”
“Shirl–”
“Why? Somebody else better? Some place else better? Why? Why!”
“Becuase I couldn’t give you what you wanted.”
Frank’s mother turned around to Frank, and pointed at the man. “This is your father. Casey Donovan. Good for nothing ass that he is!”
The man looked up at Frank. Frank stared at him, emotions roiling in him – elation, then anger.
Shirl continued, turning to Casey, “So what are you here for now? You’re in a biker gang?” She sneered and grabbed at his jacket. “Running from the law? Or running a circus?”
“Not really,” he said. “I’m trying to get over my aversion to kids.”
“Oh, so now you want to come into his life?”
“No, not that, either.”
Frank stared at Casey. He wanted to burst into tears – he’s met his father, who wanted nothing to do with him.
“I was just checking in.”
“Well, we’re FINE – without you!”
“I can see that.” He looked down at her, as the monkey slowly peered over Casey’s shoulder. “I couldn’t have done this for you.”
“So you just disappeared!” She turned from him and Frank saw the tears. Her voice cracked, “So you ran away and didn’t come back.”
“You wanted to keep the baby.”
Frank felt like he had been punched in the stomach. This man, this asshole, wanted to have his mother abort him? Anger filled him from the pit of his stomach. He saw the van’s three-foot long ice scraper by the door – totally out of season here – and grabbed it. Roaring, he ran toward Casey. He didn’t hear his mother scream, but he did see Casey look up at him. The monkey disappeared, jumping off somewhere, and Frank swung the ice scraper at Casey’s face.
It connected, the point hitting his right eye and scraping across the bridge of his nose. Casey grunted, stepping back, and blood seeped through his hand. Frank raised the scraper like a club and slammed down again on Casey’s head, making a gash across his forehead. Casey tried to grab Frank’s right hand with his left but missed because Frank came at him again with the ice scraper, gouging out the side of his cheek this time.
Casey kept moving back, and brought his hand down from his eye. Something covered the eye socket, like a white patch of skin. He still had blood on his face.
“I deserved that, too,” Casey said, as Frank readied himself for another strike, this time aiming further down.
“STOP!” screamed his mother.
Frank was looking down, and seeing out of the corner of his eye that the monkey was holding tightly onto Casey’s leg, and his paws were glowing white. He looked up to see the white patch of skin flow into his eye socket, and watched with pure amazement as it resolved itself into an eye, first clear, then pink, then blue, matching the other exactly. The gouge on his cheek also healed, without any scar.
Both Frank and his mother stared at Casey in shock. Casey sighed, “I guess I won’t be over this aversion to kids any time soon.” He reached down and let Eeep climb back up onto his shoulders.
His mother screamed shrilly, loud enough for anyone to hear in a mile’s radius, “GET OUT!”
Casey bowed his head, and dipped a hand into his coat. He pulled out an envelope and tossed it on the table on the patio. “For college.”
“We don’t need your fucking money!” Frank yelled.
Casey slowly grinned. “You think I’m doing this for you?” Then he walked back around to the front of the driveway. Frank didn’t come down from the adrenaline high until he heard the roar of the bike fade away.
Words: 1613
Comments: This was inspired by seeing a huge kid sitting on the side of the road, looking rather forlorn, and combined with my son’ s issues over not having a dad.