Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Artists and Fathers

He was supposed to do the book club but the date got screwed up.
Sorry son. Its not until tomorrow night.
That's fine we can get some quality time then Randy said putting his bag in the car.
They spent the next two days in the small lake town of his father. They went to his club and sat naked in a sauna together with the other retirees.
Maybe you should take a job.
I have a job dad.
I mean one that pays.
They both perspired in silence then. This was an old conversation. Randy looked at his watch and began counting the hours to the book club. They stopped for gas and his father spilled five gallons on the cement. Then they went into oncoming traffic.
Shit dad!
Can't see a fucking thing his father grumbled.
How about we go to Panera for a salad dad?
I want a hot dog.
Ok Randy said looking out the window.
When they went home his father fell asleep while Randy worked on a book in his bed. He used to do this when he was a kid with the door locked so his father wouldn't ask him if he was working on that Goddamn book.
He dressed and woke his father.
You sure you don't want to go dad?
No. No...it's  your thing.
At the book club Randy was a star to the twelve women. He signed books and then walked back to his fathers house with the snow coming down. He took the train back to Chicago and they didn't talk for a couple weeks. It was like that.


No comments:

Post a Comment