Page 10 of Gideon

“And? I’m fine. What’d you want?”

“I’d like to talk.”

“About?”

“Can I come in?”

Joey grumbled unintelligible words but turned and made his way slowly up the stairs, dragging his right leg.

“Do you need a hand?” Gideon said, following slowly.

“What for? I’ve still got two.” His right arm rose a couple of inches before dropping again.

“You can move it a little?”

“Yeah, I can move it a little,” he mumbled. “I’m not a cripple.” He hobbled inside the cramped two-bedroom apartment. Everything looked the same as the last time Gideon had been there, but dingier. And now a giant flatscreen TV took up most of one wall and half of a window. It was way too big for the space, and the threadbare couch was set up too close.

“Coffee?” Joey said from the kitchen.

“That’s a big TV,” Gideon said as he scanned the rest of the apartment. “What happened to the other one?”

“Got rid of it. Won this one in a raffle. Only bit of good luck I’ve ever had in my life. I asked you if you wanted a coffee.”

Gideon looked at the unwashed dishes piled in the sink and the fruit flies that hovered in a horde around a rotting bunch of bananas on the counter.

“No, thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” Joey said, then pulled a mug out of the sink, sniffed it, made a face, and gave it a quick rinse before pouring himself a cup from the filter coffee machine in the corner.

“Do you find that hard?” Gideon said when his dad returned to the living room.

“What?”

“You’re righthanded, but now you have to do everything with your left.”

Joey shrugged before he sat in a recliner. He set the coffee on the table next to him, then scratched himself and farted. “I haven’t got any money, if that’s what you’re after.”

Gideon covered his nose. “Seriously, Dad.”

“What? I had baked beans for dinner last night. What do you expect?”

“Too much, obviously. Listen, I’m not here for money.”

“Then what do you want?”

“To see how you’re doing. I wanted to see if you needed help with anything. Last time I visited, we didn’t part well.”

“Ah, now I’ve got it.”

“What?”

“It’s the guilt, right? You came because you feel guilty. Then let me ease your pain. I forgive you for being a terrible son.”

“Thanks.” This visit was taking an enormous amount of self-control. “But I want to help if I can.”

“You can’t. I don’t need you. I am quite content with life as it is. I don’t need you coming in here and messing everything up.”

Gideon looked around at the filth. “You haven’t cleaned up around here in who knows how long.”

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