Page 4 of Behind the Lights

“You want to come play cars with me?” he asked, rubbing my back in what I assumed was a gesture his mother used to calm him down with. One he was clearly hoping to get the same result from me with.

I nodded, and he took me by the hand leading me inside and up to his room. My dad and his mom were still outside talking, but all I wanted was to be with my friend. Ricky knew better than anyone what went on inside my house, and neither he nor his mom questioned it when I randomly appeared on their front doorstep at odd hours of the day or night.

Shortly after we got his race track set up and started playing, his mom came in.

“Do you boys want some lunch?” she asked.

“Yes please,” we answered at the same time, setting the cars down and following her to the kitchen.

His mom made us peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches and poured us each a glass of milk. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I’d taken the first bite. I was so excited to play catch with my dad that when I went downstairs for breakfast and found them in the kitchen arguing, I didn’t want to interrupt and risk having their screams turn toward me. Since I wasn’t allowed to make my own food yet, I headed outside without eating anything. Because of this, I ended up inhaling the sandwich Mrs. Branson made for me in a few quick bites.

“Joey,” Mrs. Branson said, taking the seat beside me.

My mouth was full, so I nodded.

“You’re gonna stay the night here with Ricky tonight. Okay?” She was always so nice to me, her voice had a calming lilt to it that seemed to soothe me when I needed it most.

I swallowed my bite and took a drink of milk. “Where’s my dad?”

“He went out for a while and asked if you could stay here.” Her calming eyes searched mine, waiting to diffuse whatever potential tantrum she thought I was about to unleash. But the fight in my tired little body was long gone.

“Oh,” I said.

Ricky kept bobbing his head between me and his mom, intently watching our exchange.

“You boys go on up and play,” she told us, taking our empty plates away.

When we got back inside Ricky’s room, he finally asked, “What happened with your mom?”

I sat on his bed, shrugging my shoulders. The words formed in my mouth at the same time my eyes filled with tears. “She went away.”

He sat beside me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “Where did she go?”

I answered as honestly as I could, “I don’t know. But my dad says she’s not coming back.”

“My dad’s not coming back either,” he shared. “My mom said he’s in Heaven with my Grandpa.”

It wasn’t until years later that I’d learned his father died in Iraq during the Persian Gulf War when Ricky was a baby.

Having spent most of my summer next door with Ricky and his mom, I expected my dad to at least take me to school for my first day of kindergarten. But he didn’t, that was the first of many disappointments to come from my father. I went to school with Ricky and his mom and came home after school with them. His mom didn’t work so she assumed the role of not only my babysitter, but my parental figure as well. Not sure if my dad ever actually asked her to take care of me, I think he just assumed she would. At least, I hoped that’s how it went down.

Ricky’s mom and Grandma were great. They always remembered my birthday and included me in their holiday gatherings because my dad was never around for any of it. During the week, I usually slept in my own bed, only going home after eating dinner next door. I’d take a bath and go straight to bed, but every weekend I was at Ricky’s non-stop. Eventually, a bed was even added to his room for me.

Being a kid, I never thought to ask who was paying for my food, clothes, you name it, but now looking back at those times, I can only assume his mom and Grandma had to have been. My dad didn’t make much money, and because of that I got free breakfast and lunches at school which I was glad for because he probably wouldn’t have remembered to feed me. Our refrigerator and pantry were a sad sight for anyone who looked in them.

My artwork and homework even hung on the refrigerator at Ricky’s house, proudly alongside his. If Ricky got a dollar for a good report card, they made sure the same was given to me. I guess this life became the norm for me because after a while, the pain of being ignored by my dad had been tucked away. Never forgotten, but in this case the positive overshadowed the negative. He pretty much ceased to exist after my mom left. In one day he went from a somewhat doting father, to a non-existent sperm donor.

Ricky’s Uncle John, his mother’s brother, was freaking cool. He would come over on the weekends and hang out with us while his mom and Grandma would go shopping. He’d take us out for ice cream, or to the park, and sometimes we’d even go walking along the shore of the sound where we’d collect shells and poke at beached sea creatures and find tons of other cool stuff. He was more of a father to me than my own was. Ricky and I in a sense, had become brothers. I was accepted by his entire family as though I were one of their own.

I remember in the second grade, I fell off the monkey bars on the playground trying to land a backflip I’d seen one of the junior high boys do. Only I didn’t land it as I’d hoped and instead fell at an awkward angle and broke my left arm. The only saving grace was the fact that I was right handed. The nurse called my dad at work, telling him to come and get me and take me to the hospital. He wasn’t very happy when he showed up, but instead of yelling, he once again chose to ignore me which felt worse. I kept my crying to a minimum, even though my arm hurt like hell, because I didn’t want to give him anymore reasons to hate me. So I quietly cradled my arm against my chest during the ride to the hospital.

We sat in silence in the emergency room after checking in. There were people running in and out, coughing and sneezing, and here I sat holding my gimpy arm. Finally, a lady came out and called my name and took us back to a curtained area. My dad picked me up and sat me on the table while she closed the curtain around us and began asking my dad questions. I looked around, staring at the different tools they had out and then the lady put a plastic bracelet on my right wrist and left. A little while later, the doctor came in and introduced himself to us and explained what he was going to do.

After he finished making my cast, he told us I had to wear it for six weeks and would need to see the pediatrician to have it removed at that time. The nurse came back in and handed me a lollipop and my dad a stack of papers.

“You hungry?” my dad asked as we left the hospital.

“Mmm hmm,” I muttered.

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