A Soldier's Guide to Single Parenting - 3. A Safe Environment

I used to love Saturday mornings but that was before the drinking took hold of me. Weekends were a disruption I could do without. No work meant having to stay home and do real work, like fixing fences. I listened to my elderly neighbor Fred, bang in nails from eight o’clock that morning. It put me in a foul mood as I watched him from my bedroom window, aiming an imaginary rifle at his balding head.

I had taken similar shots in real life to kill people who I never knew and felt good about it afterward. They were the enemy and that’s what we were there for. What we were paid to do. That’s what I had to keep telling myself anyway.

I had lost touch with most of the buddies I made in the army but there were a couple who remained good friends. One of them was now a police detective working downtown. His name was Richard but in Vietnam he was Rizzo.

He was with me and a guy called Connor in 1967 when we were discovered by the NVA five miles inside North Vietnam. We were part of the 5th Special Forces Group on a long-range reconnaissance patrol and we should have been killed that day for sure. We were pinned down in a foxhole by enemy fire; bullets whistling over our heads, and ripping into the ground around us. I was just three weeks away from finishing my second and final tour of duty and it’s difficult to believe now how we could have survived.

Connor was killed but Rizzo and I somehow made it out and in the ensuing chaos managed to earn ourselves a Medal of Honor. Friendships formed under those circumstances last forever and Rizzo and I would still meet up regularly for a drink or a meal. He came to Kate’s funeral and visited me a couple of times since but I hadn’t seen him in over a month. The last I heard, his wife had left him.

I made a mental note to contact Rizzo as I watched Fred floundering with a hammer before heading downstairs. For a skilled carpenter who had once worked for the Queen of England, Fred didn’t look very much at home with a hammer and nails but I put it down to his advancing years.

Feeling hungry, there was more bad news when I opened the fridge. Milk, eggs, raspberry jelly but that was it. There was a time when it was packed full of food.

“If you're looking for something to eat, then you're out of luck,” said Suzanne.

“Where the hell has everything gone? I only went shopping in the week.”

“No you didn’t,” said Jon. “It was the week before. You haven’t done any grocery shopping for ages.” I didn’t know Jon was there, but I might have known he would show up at the mention of food. He was wearing his baseball uniform. More expense.

“I need some money. My allowance, plus the annual club fee.”

The annual club fee. Thirty dollars was a lot for a year of baseball and the coach wasn’t that good. I had forty bucks in my wallet but we needed food.

“Tell him that I’ll pay it next week.” He rolled his eyes at me and grumbled as he held out his hand for his allowance and I gave it to him in quarters and dimes. “That’s all I got Jon, I need this for food. Looks like I’m going shopping today.” It seemed as if that was all I did lately. They were eating it, faster than I could buy it in.

“I need a ride too.” I hit my head against the fridge in frustration.

“When?”

“Now, or I’m gonna be late,” he said before walking over to his sister and kissing her on the cheek.

She smiled but looked confused. “What was that for?”

“For cleaning my uniform.”

I thought it was a sweet gesture as well as a cunning move. Keep sis happy and she keeps his uniform clean. She could see straight through him but played along. Maybe David should take a leaf out of Jon’s book.

“Okay, I’ll take him and go shopping on the way back. Where’s Bobby anyway?”

“Your son is in the next room watching television,” said Suzanne. “But I’m going out tonight, so I can’t look after him.”

“I can handle Bobby. It’s this guy I have a problem with.” Jon didn’t see the funny side as I pushed him out the door.

“I’ve written a list of what to get.” I was confused. “At the store…you always forget to buy stuff.”

I forgot on purpose because a lot of what they wanted was crap and too expensive. It wasn’t necessary to write a list; my memory was still in good shape although after forgetting to cut his grass, Fred next door may not have agreed. He was struggling again with that old lawn mower when we left. If he keeps this pace up he’s gonna kill himself for sure.

*     *     *

“DAD YOU ALMOST HIT THAT GUY!” said Jon.

I could see him in my rear view mirror, he was standing in the middle of the road waving his fist at me but he was okay.

“He should’ve been looking. It was his fault.”

“You drove through a red light. Do you have to drive so fast all the time?”

“Do you wanna get to your game or not?”

“Yes, but I wanna get there in one piece.”

“It wasn’t a red light anyway.” I glanced over at Jon as I pulled into the parking lot. We were late and his irate coach was walking toward the car to meet us. He waved at me but he looked a little flustered. He should worry; I would have gladly swapped his troubles for mine.

“I can’t stay. You know that, Jon. Don’t you?”

“Yes.” He wouldn’t look at me and the moment the car stopped he had the door open.

“Hey, wait a minute.” I reached over to pull him back by his shoulder.

“What?”

“Have a good game. Just because I’m not sitting there watching, don’t mean that I’m not rooting for you.”

“I know that.” His answer lacked conviction and he didn’t say goodbye as he climbed out of the car and ran to his coach. I wanted to make good my escape before he started asking me for money.

On the way back I stopped off at the liquor store to replace the bottle I had pulverized the night before and I bought a case of beer for the weekend. They were expensive but a necessary evil. It was why I had a credit card.

*     *     *

After an hour spent grocery shopping, I had plenty to work with for a meal that evening. I decided on pork chops, mashed potato and salad. The kids thought it bland but it was one of my favourite dishes when Kate cooked and a meal someone with my limited culinary skills could prepare without too much trouble. Except I burnt the chops and the potato was too lumpy. Bobby was the only one who didn’t complain but David and Jon’s standoff ensured a quiet if slightly unpleasant meal time. I did my best but once again, the dog was the only real beneficiary of Suzanne’s night off.

I had a few beers to cushion the blow and that evening, while Jon watched the baseball on television, I sat outside on the porch with the mosquitos. They didn’t bother me too much but David would get eaten alive and it was a surprise to see him outside. Like his mother, David’s skin was lighter and milkier than mine or Jon’s and he had the same wispy dark blond hair as his sister.

“Can I sleepover at Simon’s house tonight?” He looked fresh and clean and smelled of soap. It made me wonder if he might be going someplace else, but I didn’t think he would be wearing sandals and shorts to meet a girl. I would always be dressed up no matter how hot it was.

“It’s a little late isn’t it?”

He shrugged. “He only just asked me and I’ll be working all next week.”

I didn’t think it was too much to ask and he was still in my good books for taking the job. In fact, he seemed to look forward to starting work.

“Go ahead, just don’t stay up all night. You need to be fresh for Monday.”

He must have expected me to agree because he had his bag already packed just inside the doorway, which he grabbed.

“I forgot to ask how your date went last night.” I watched his guard go up the moment I finished talking. It was as if I was asking him to divulge top-secret information.

“It was okay.”

I never had a date that was okay. They were either a complete disaster or I was skipping all the way home. But never just okay. I wished I could get inside that kid’s head if only to reassure him he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

“Have a good time.” I smiled and raised my beer bottle at him but he looked nervous as he nodded and headed off into the night.

As soon as he had gone, Jon appeared from behind the screen door. “Where’s he going?”

“Simon’s house or maybe he’s seeing his girlfriend?” Jon scoffed and his expression bugged me. I got a feeling he knew something about David and his new girlfriend I didn’t. Maybe that was the real reason for their fight. Parental intuition again, perhaps Kate had been right about that after all.

I started to worry. There had to be a reason why David was acting so secretive. If I hadn’t discovered the hickey on his neck, then he probably wouldn’t have bothered to tell me at all. It was most likely something I wouldn’t approve of. Maybe she was a lot older than him or worse, still a married woman. What if she was married to someone we knew? I had trouble getting to sleep that night worrying about a problem that never existed.

*     *     *

Simon had been a part of the furniture for as long as I could remember; he was like a fifth child and I always treated him as such. I felt sorry for him though. He was a smart kid but didn’t have it too good at home. His parents were religious; the type that knock on your door every week to push their magazines in your face.

They didn’t want Simon to be friends with David because we weren’t in their religion. Anyone who didn’t share their beliefs, come judgement day, wasn’t going to be saved and that day was always just around the corner.

Despite their proximity, Kate and I had only met his parents once in the ten or so years our kids had been friends. They came to visit and were nice until they discovered I was a serviceman who had fought in the war. Even worse, I was patriotic and believed what we were doing over there was right. My views may have softened somewhat over the years but they were pacifists and it created a divide between us only the kids could overcome.

I never had a problem with David going to their house as long as they didn’t try to indoctrinate him; after a while they relented with the same conditions. It created a kind of unofficial truce between us for the sake of our kids and when Kate died, they sent over a load of magazines for me about God and dealing with grief. I never threw them away but I never read them either. If I had done so, I may have been able to work things out a lot quicker than I did.

I had not long been asleep when I was woken a little after midnight by noises in the garden. I couldn’t see anything from my bedroom window but I could hear someone trying the back door. Ours wasn’t a particularly bad neighborhood but Fred had warned me recently about break-ins in the area. It sounded like we were being targeted. I pulled on a pair of pants, grabbed my keys and ran downstairs, passing a worried Suzanne on the way.

“Stay upstairs and keep Jon and Bobby with you.”

As I ran into the study, I could hear faint voices at the back door. It sounded as if they were trying to get in through the window in the kitchen so I unlocked the drawer on my desk, reached for the gun and loaded a clip.

The kitchen was in darkness but I could see the outline of someone climbing in through the window. He was kneeling over the sink and whispering to someone outside. I released the safety and took aim before switching on the kitchen light.

“DAVID! FUCK! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

He yelled and nearly jumped through the ceiling, behind him was Simon, who threw his arms in the air and ducked below the window. Had I opened fire it would have been too late for both of them.

I put my hand on my head and sat down at the table shaking. “Geez, David. What the hell are doing climbing in through the window? I almost shot you.”

“I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t want to wake you. The front door was locked.”

“I bolted it. I thought you were staying at Simon’s tonight.”

“We were…it’s just that.”

“What’s going on?” said Suzanne. “Is that David?”

“I thought I told you to stay upstairs!” The commotion was too much for my inquisitive children to resist and she was followed into the kitchen by Jon in his underpants. His eyes opened wide when he saw the gun.

“Dad, what are you doing with a gun?”

“He was going to shoot me and Simon,” said David.

“I thought you were breaking-in.” Suzanne opened the back door to let Simon in.

“Come in, Simon.” He looked reluctant to enter. “Dad won't shoot you now.”

“I might.”

“Why were they trying to break in?” said Jon. “They could have just knocked.”

“That’s what I wanna know.”

I switched on the safety and removed the clip but as I got up to take the gun back to the study, I saw the real reason why Simon was reluctant to come in and probably why they didn’t knock.

“What happened to your face?” said Suzanne.

“It’s nothing. I fell over outside.”

His eye was red and swollen and he had a bloody nose. It looked as if he had been punched in the face but I didn’t question his story.

“David, you're the expert on ice packs,” I said and he ran downstairs to the freezer while Simon sat down at the table and Jon lurked behind me.

“Can I see the gun?”

“No, there is no gun Jon. Go back to bed.”

“Yes there is, I saw it. I just wanna look…come on Dad. That’s really cool.”

“Not when he’s aiming it at you it isn’t,” said David.

“Was you really gonna shoot him Dad?”

“Of course not,” said Suzanne.

“Yes,” I said.

“Cool,” said Jon.

“You're an asshole,” his brother replied. At least the boys were talking, even if it was only to trade insults but I was still shaken up. The truth was, I was only a gentle squeeze away from killing my own son and it scared the hell out of me.

I sent Jon back to bed and on the third time asking, he begrudgingly dragged his feet up the stairs while Suzanne fetched the first-aid box. She had completed a course earlier in the year but it was David who cleaned up his friend, tipping his head back and wiping the blood from his nose.

“You're not in any trouble are you?”

“No,” said Simon flinching as David wiped the cut above his eye.

“You haven’t stolen anything and you're not being chased by the law?”

“No, of course not,” said David. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”

“What happened then?”

“Maybe we should leave it until the morning,” said Suzanne.

I was surprised; usually she would have been at their throats. The boys were badly shaken up though and it was obvious Simon’s injuries didn’t come from him falling over. Someone had hit him and it seemed likely it was his dad. I sat down opposite Simon.

“Did you get into a fight?” I looked at Simon and the worried glance between them answered my question for me. I decided to try my luck with David. “How come you're not hurt?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not stupid David, he’s obviously been in a fight and I wanna know what happened. Didn’t you help him, how come he’s hurt and not you?” I turned to Simon. “I know you didn’t fall over. Who hit you?”

“Dad…please, does it matter?”

“Did your old man do this?” At last I got a nod from Simon who stared at the table. “Yeah, I thought so. Why did he hit you?” I had a feeling this one was going to be a little more difficult to extract. I looked at the clock. “We got all night if you want.”

“Dad, no. Leave it now,” said Suzanne. “You don’t have to interrogate them. This isn’t the army.”

“We had a disagreement. He kicked me out.”

“He kicked you out? Like for good?”

“Yes.”

I turned to my son. “Why did he kick him out?” David was not so forthcoming and just shrugged his shoulders as he continued to care for his friend. I had never seen him so hands-on in a situation like this. He would usually run at the first sight of blood. I was impressed by the way he took care of his friend, cleaning him up and looking after him. No one else could get anywhere near Simon.

I knew it was the religion behind it; they freaked out over the tiniest things that wouldn’t worry most families.

“I think Simon should get some rest.” David stood up pulling his friend’s arm. “Is it okay if he stays the night?”

“Of course it is,” said Suzanne, answering for me and I shot her a look. “Sorry, Dad.”

I nodded. “You don’t ask me any other night but Simon can stay until he sorts out whatever’s going on at home.” The boys relaxed after that and David even smiled as they thanked me and headed upstairs.

There were two beds in David’s room. One of them used to belong to Jon before we converted the spare. Jon’s old bed now pretty much belonged to Simon who seemed to be staying over most nights anyway. He had been half living with us since the start of the summer break.

I waited until they had gone before taking the gun back to the study and pouring a glass of bourbon to calm my nerves. My hand was still shaking as I raised it to my lips but my secret activity didn’t escape the attention of Suzanne who followed me into my hideaway.

“I’m sorry. I needed something to calm me down.”

“It’s okay, I understand.”

“You should be in bed.”

“So should you, Dad.”

“I almost shot my own son. What’s your excuse?”

“I’m worried about you.”

She watched me pouring another drink and I laughed. “I’m not the problem,” I said. But my hand shook as I lifted the glass to my lips. “It’s not the first time that his old man’s done that. It’s happened before…a few times. We were gonna report him a few years ago. Your mom and me. Simon came here with a black eye and bruises down his legs. Another time he broke his arm.”

“He fell off his bike.”

“Did he…are you sure? Maybe we should’ve reported it. You never know if you're doing the right thing.”

“It’s not your fault, Daddy. You should get some rest.” She walked around the desk and gave me a hug before taking the glass from my hand. “You’ve had enough. Lock the drawer and go to bed.” Before that night, she was the only one who knew about the gun, now I would have to be even more careful.

I did as she said but the gun was still in my pocket. I took it upstairs with me just in case the religious nut decided to come looking for his son.

*     *     *

On Sunday, I was awake early and with a clear head for a change. I didn’t drink as much as usual the day before and I felt a lot better for it as I sat downstairs with a coffee. As a kid I was always an early riser and it served me well as an adult too. In the military I was at my best in the mornings.

In Vietnam, I was generally awake before dawn. It was my favourite time of day. Quiet except for the sounds of the birds and not too hot. At daybreak, the hills around us were covered in a low mist and a sweet pungent smell would hang in the air like perfume. That smell would never leave me. It was a beautiful country, rich in color and wildlife. Not many soldiers remember that country for its beauty.

“Dad…Dad…hello!”

“Huh. Sorry Suzanne, I was daydreaming.”

“How could you not see me?” she laughed. “How long have you been up for?”

“Not long,” I said but when I reached for my coffee it was stone cold. Why is this happening to me?

“Are you okay?”

“I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

“Or me,” said Jon. He pulled up the chair next to mine and sat with his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. My second son was another early bird but that day, like the rest of us, he looked a little down in the dumps.

“Did Simon stay here last night?” he asked.

“Yes, Jon. I wasn’t going to send him home was I?”

“Is he gonna move in now?”

“No, of course not, he can stay until he sorts out his problems at home.”

“That won't happen.” I thought it was an odd thing to say; it sounded as if he knew more than I did.

“What makes you say that?” Whatever he knew he wasn’t about to divulge and his expression turned to a frown when David appeared at the bottom of the stairs. His brother swapped smiles with Suzanne but barely glanced toward Jon and me as he shuffled past us to the kitchen.

“David, can you sit down for a minute?” You would have thought I was asking him to put his hand in a hornet’s nest the way he tentatively took a seat opposite his brother.

“What is it?” asked David.

“Do you mind telling me why Simon’s dad kicked him out last night?”

“It’s their religion,” he said, flicking his eyes to Jon and me. “They’re crazy…I mean really crazy.”

“I know what they’re like. But what did he do to make his old man hit him like that?”

“He told them he wanted to leave the religion, but you're not allowed to just leave. They make it difficult and there are consequences. His dad’s an elder, but he’s gonna lose that position now because he’s failed as a father. It’s all bullshit.” I sat back in my chair, took a long deep breath and studied my son’s worried face. It sounded too crazy to be anything but the truth.

“So he got kicked out of his house because he cost his dad his job at the church?”

“Well, kind of. His dad didn’t really have much of a choice about kicking him out. He wouldn’t be allowed to live there anyway if he left the religion. It’s the rules.”

“It’s not the first time he’s hit Simon, is it?” David shook his head. “I thought so. Is he going to press charges?”

“No.” He laughed. “His dad would go totally crazy if he did that.” I didn’t like the sound of that.

“How crazy? Crazy enough to go looking for him?”

He nodded. “Definitely, you don’t understand them Dad. He wanted to kill Simon last night.”

Jon mumbled something under his breath and his brother shot him a look.

“Maybe you should explain?” I could sense there was more he wanted to tell me but thought better of it. “You don’t think he’s gonna come after him or anything do you?”

David afforded himself a little chuckle. “No, Dad, he won't come here. He’s scared of you. He thinks that you're crazy.” Even Jon found that funny and the two brother’s shared the briefest of laughs at my expense. It was good to see, but I didn’t like the fact a madman who wanted to kill his own son for the sake of some tin pot religion considered me to be the crazy one.

David’s explanation was enough to satisfy my hunger for a while and I was happy to provide Simon with a safe haven as long as my son contributed towards his keep.

“I don’t mind. I start my summer job tomorrow and you can have everything I earn.”

“Well, I won't need everything. Whatever you can do, son.” I was just happy David was going to be working and he looked a lot more relaxed when he left to go back upstairs.

I turned to a weary looking Jon. "His dad will come to his senses soon and Simon will want to go home, you'll see."

“Like I said, Dad. It won’t happen.”