Me and My Dad

The cottage was just set back from the edge of the ice of the lake. It was small but large enough to almost be seen from the other side of the lake. It was white and when the snows came looked as though it was built from snow. There were two windows, framed in black and black shutters that were nearly never closed, only when the North winds would blow. There two chimneys, one a brick chimney of an open fireplace and the other a circular smokestack of an iron stove. Inside the old man sat in front of the fire half dozing. On his lap was his lap was Blackie, a young cat, snuggled into the blanket that the old man had draped over his legs. It was winter and although the cottage was warmed by the fire, the old man enjoyed the heat of the cat on his legs. Inside the cottage was very simple, only what was needed for simple comfort. There was a small kitchen with a cast iron stove that after being lit at night would warm the cottage as the fire died out.

The old man had been a carpenter in his youth, a trade his son had entered. The old man was very proud of his work, saying “If it was good enough for the son of God, it was good enough for me.” His son, Bill, who was out on the ice fishing for their dinner, had moved down to Chicago to work in the new expensive houses, doing decorative work for the poor that had quickly come into money. While Bill despised who we worked for, the money was good, something he could not pass up. The two shared the feeling that money can’t buy class, and laughed these people who tried and usually failed by going overboard with the decorations of their “fine” homes.

Every year, the two spent a month at the cottage. Bill would fish or hunt for their dinners, his father would read at the cottage being too cold now for him to join Bill out on the ice. Inside, the old man would pass his time by reading. Bill headed into town every morning to buy the papers, bread and whatever else they needed, usually beer or another bottle of whiskey. The beer was kept in the ice box near the door, so as to not get too hot by the fire or stove. It was stocked with several beers and ham, cheese and a few Polish sausages that Bill brought up from Chicago. Most days lunch was ham and cheese, both bought from a local farmer and were quite good. Just enough for the two. Dinner would be a fish or two that Bill would get from the ice covered lake or he would take the rifle out and get a rabbit, if he was lucky. They were comfortable in the cottage, in want of nothing. Two rooms were in the back of the cottage very close to the kitchen so they could benefit from the warmth of the stove.

The old man was half asleep when Blackie jumped off his lap waking him up. She ran to the door and meowed loudly.

“Okay, okay, Boy must be getting close, huh, little girl.” The old man called out to the cat, sitting up in his chair.

The door opened and Bill walked in carrying two small trout.

“Not too bad, are they Pop.” Bill smiled showing off the fish, “Not too big, but should do.”

“Not bad, boy. How was it out there? Not too cold?”

“Not too cold. Had Jamie Preston join me, remember him. Haven’t seen him in a while.“ Bill informed his father as he carried the fish to the sink and began to clean them, “he got skunked, came with a nice bottle of schnapps, so he didn’t mind too much.”

“I remember his father more. Although, I do remember he and you getting into a lot of trouble.” The old man said getting up from his chair, ”me and his old man used to laugh about you two.”

The two laughed as the old man made his way to the ice box and retrieved a couple of beers. “You want or a whiskey to warm yourself up.”

“I think I will go for a beer. Warm enough in here.”

After Bill finished cleaning the fish, with the old man’s eye watching over making sure they were cleaned properly, as he always did, something that Bill had gotten used to. He returned to his chair. Bill put the fish in the ice box, mostly to make sure Blackie wouldn’t try to have a snack. Bill walked over to the table and sat down.

“How were you today, Pop?”

“Nice, the fire was just right and Blackie,” the cat returned to his lap, “See, this is how she was all day. Most of the time I didn’t want to get up because she was so comfortable. Pretty sad when you stay still for a cat”, the old man laughed.

Bill opened the paper that was on the table and flipped through the pages, inattentively. The news was never anything the two cared about. Must be up to date though, the two thought. Bill got up and checked the fire. It was still early enough to add another log to the fire. In a minute, Bill would light the stove to get it hot enough to cook the fish for dinner but that would take some time and he knew that if not careful the cottage would get too cold for the stove to heat the cottage well enough for the night.

There was a clamor from outside. It was coming from the Henderson’s cottage just a little further on along the lake. Jack and Kelly Henderson were always fighting. The sounds of shouting and glass breaking broke the silence of the early evening.

“There they go again.” The old man laughed,” never changes.”

“Can never figure out why they stay together.”

“Ah, fighting is their sport. One starts the other off. Jackie has probably been drinking out on the ice again. Maniac.”

“Didn’t see him out today.”

“No, hmm, maybe that’s why they are having a go.” The old man laughed, “God knows where he went off to. Up to no good I am sure.”

“I swear someday they are going to kill each other.”

“Wouldn’t worry about that. Neither have good aim with the plates and I don’t think a plate will kill anyone.”

“I heard that Jackie got himself a gun.”

“No, tried. But Old man Parson wouldn’t sell him one, let alone give him a shell.”

They both laughed and the clamor died down, only to be replaced with laughter.

“There you go.” The old man started, “One hell of a marriage. Every once in a while you need a good blowout. “

“Theirs must be a great marriage since they have one almost every night”, Bill laughed, “I don’t ever remember you and mom ever fighting.”

“Oh, we had our share, but that was mostly before you were born. Drank a hell of a lot in those days. Weren't always the best of times.”

“Well' I don't remember that.”

“Yeah' we calmed down a lot when you came around.”

The old man got up and walked to a small bookcase that stood just under the front window. From behind a copy of Ulysses, he pulled out a bottle of whiskey. He slowly made his way to the kitchen and retrieved two glasses with ice. He poured the whiskey in the glasses and handed one to his son before sitting back down in his chair.

He raised his glass and smiled at his son, “To your mother.”

The two men raised their glasses and smiled at each other. A small tear showed in the old man's eyes but was quickly wiped away only to be replaced with a smile.

“She loved to have a drink,” the old man said, “was her little secret she held from you as a child.”

“I don't think I ever really saw mom drink anything more than a glass of wine.”

“Oh' she drank. Never wanted you to know.” The old man went on, “That was something from her past. Didn't want you to think anything bad about her.”

“Hard to think of her like that.”

“I know. That's how she wanted it. Never wanted you to think of her as anything but your mother.” The old man grinned, “But what a woman she was. I know you might not want to know but she was truly something else. I never could take my eyes off her when we started dating. What a beauty. What a treasure. She was the most exciting person I had ever met.”

Bill smiled as he took a sip of the whiskey. The warmth of the liquor flowed through him like a hug from his mother. Missed her as he did, moments like this he felt her presence and felt comfortable with the loss. She was there with the two of them in spirit as much as in reality. Bill liked to hear of his mother like this from his father. It made him happy to hear the love that his father had for her. She was made all that much more special and they celebrated her as much as they could without her being there.

“I hate to change the subject,” the old man started, taking a sip of his whiskey, “but Caroline called me the other day. Just out of the blue.”

“Oh, how is she doing? I haven't talked to her in a while.”

“She sounded good. Just wanted to talk. Was

worried about me for some reason.”

The two went quiet and drank their drinks. Bill got up and threw another log into the stove and sat back down. His old man was sitting quietly watching him to see if his mood had changed but there was no change' just the same comfort as there was before.

“Bill, do you mind me asking,” the old man started, “What happened between the two of you, I know you told me before but that was when you were going through everything and I knew you were in no mood to really talk about it.”

“I know I never really talked about it. I never really wanted to. Things just kind of fell apart. Guess we just wanted different things.”

“I guess I don't understand those kinds of things.” the old man said bluntly, “Don't you think your mother and I had troubles from time to time.”

“Times changed. People aren't the same anymore.”

“That's all crap.” the old man said harshly, “People have always been the same, but we stuck together. Not the same these days.”

“No not the same. I never wanted to say anything but there was someone else involved. I got through all that. That's all I wanted you to know.”

The old man sat back in his chair and went silent. A small tear formed in his eye. He hated to think of his son unhappy and he liked Caroline. She was good to him. He selfishly wished that they were still together. What could have been that bad. That thought he hated to think.

“Want another or have you had enough for the night?” Bill asked pouring himself a drink.

“You might as well,” the old man started “I feel like having them tonight.”

“Are you feeling Okay?”

“Am feeling fine. Just missing your mother and sad for you and just not tired.”

Bill picked up the old man's glass and filled it with whiskey without another word being said. He handed it back to him and sat down next to his father and stared at the fire. It was an easy silence the two men shared.

“I don't remember you drinking like this, are you sure everything is ok?”

“Everything is fine.” The old man smiled, “Just not tired. Plus have nothing to do tomorrow so can sleep it off. Has been a while since I had a few more than I should and feel like it is one of those nights that requires it.”

“Have to agree with you.” Bill laughed.

The two raised their glasses to each other and sipped their drinks.

“Dad, what do you want to do tomorrow?”

The old man looked at his son for a moment thinking, “Not sure much of anything. Just enjoying being up here.”

“Don't want to take any time out on the ice?”

“No, I don't think so. Will probably just enjoy the warmth in here and read or maybe just nap. That's the best thing of my age, I can sleep whenever I want and not worry about it.”

The two men laughed and Bill poured another drink. The two would laugh and drink well into he night. Never saying anything of importance.

“Do you know son,” the old man started, “I truly love you.”

“Yeah, I know you do.”

“No, I mean truly. I know I haven't said it enough but I do. I always felt it was your mother's place to say those kinds of things but I always felt them too.”

“Dad, I know. That was something I always felt and never worried about. I truly love you too.”

“I know you do. What a pair we are now. Guess it's the drinks, but just felt like saying it.”

The two raised their glasses once again.

“I really am tired now,” the old man said, putting down his glass.

“Feel free to go to bed. I will stay up a bit and watch the fire.”

“Let's see if these legs will carry me now after all these drinks.” The old man laughed.

“Do you want some help?”

“Not yet. There will be plenty of time for that later on.” The old man said softly and stood shakily as he turned to his room.

They both called out good night and the old man slowly walked off leaving Bill sitting and watching the fire slowly burn. The room was warm from the fire or maybe it was the whiskey. In either case, there was a feeling of comfort in the room. All was right in the world. Bill closed his eyes and listened to the quiet only to hear the sounds of his childhood come drifting out of the walls. His mother he listened to with her soft voice calling him to bed. There were no tears just smiles. And tomorrow would be just another day just like today, until the sweet smell of spring would make its coming known. While somethings in the world might change without our ability to do anything about them, sometimes time can be stopped and the magic held onto.