Page 5 of Behind the Lights

“Okay, let’s go through the drive through and get you a kid’s meal on the way home.” He opened the truck door for me and helped me in before locking the seat belt around me.

To say I was thrilled would have been an understatement. I was spending much needed time with my dad, which I hoped was going to be a positive turning point for us, and he didn’t seem to be mad at me anymore. After we got our food, we headed home and when we pulled up in front of our house, Ricky and his mom came running over to us.

“Is he okay?” Ricky’s mom asked my dad.

“Yeah, the doctor said it was a clean break, but he has to wear the cast for six weeks,” he told her.

“Oh no, what about Halloween? It’s in three weeks?” she questioned.

Mine and Ricky’s ears pricked up at that. I’ll be the only Batman wearing a cast.

“It is?” my dad asked, scratching his head. “I guess I haven’t paid much attention since Joan left.”

The sadness in his words hit me hard, making me realize how much her leaving hurt him too.

“Now is not the time or the place for this conversation, Joe.” She looked over at Ricky and I before turning back to him. “I’ve already got their costumes. Here’s an idea, why don’t you paint his cast black for Halloween, so it doesn’t clash with his Batman outfit?”

“I can do that, Mary. I guess I should thank you for all you’ve done for my boy. I do appreciate it and I promise to do better,” he said, clearing his throat and glancing down at me.

She nodded and left it at that. Looking back, I can see she was reluctant to believe him.

“Mom,” Ricky asked, “can we get McDonald’s too?”

Laughing, she told him, “Come on, get in the car.” She turned to my dad. “Joe, if he needs anything – and I do mean anything at all, you let me know.”

“I will. And thank you, again Mary,” he told her as we headed inside.

Things went well for the first couple of weeks after my acrobatic incident. My dad quit going out every night and started cleaning up around the house. My mom was never much of a housekeeper to begin with, but my dad had literally let things pile up everywhere. The table in the entryway where he kept his keys had mail stacks piled high, but he took care of that. He even started running the vacuum and said some of the chores he was doing would become mine after the cast came off. I didn’t mind, I’d do anything to make him proud of me.

Halloween came, and he’d kept his promise to paint my cast. We went out back and he wrapped plastic bags around my arm outlining the cast and told me to turn my head before spray painting it a shiny black. When I put on my costume, it blended right in and the kids at school thought it was too cool.

He and Mary stayed at their houses to hand out candy while Uncle John came over to take us trick or treating. We hit every house in the neighborhood and man, we scored big time. Our bags were filled to the brim. Afterwards, we went back to Ricky’s house and poured it out on his living room floor and started trading with each other. Mary slinked by and snagged a fun size Snicker’s from both our piles.

The first couple of days after Halloween, I ate so much candy that I thought I’d puke, and by the following weekend mine was all gone. Ricky still had some left but had hidden his bag from me after he caught me taking pieces out of it. I had, and still have, quite a sweet tooth.

The week before Thanksgiving, my dad took a day off work and I got to miss school to go and get my cast removed.

A few minutes after the nurse took us back to one of the rooms, the doctor came in and looked from my cast to my dad questioningly.

“Batman costume,” my dad told him.

“Ah, that explains the black paint.” He shook his head, chuckling to himself while gathering the tools he needed for the removal and placed them on the metal tray between us.

My eyes were as big as saucers when he picked up the hand saw and came near me with it. I thought for sure he was going to cut off my arm.

“It’s okay, Joey, this won’t hurt. I promise,” he said in his calming doctor voice.

Curiously, I watched his every move.

Once the cast was off, I stared down at my arm concerned because it was wrinkly and pale. It reminded me of how my skin looked after I pulled off a bandage I’d had on for a couple of days.

The doctor must have seen the worry on my face as he quickly explained that it had healed up nicely and that I was good to go, but that he wouldn’t recommend I do any more aerial maneuvers on the playground.

“No more showing off for the girls,” he playfully scolded me.

My dad chuckled. “He’s still at thegirls are icky stageso I think we’re okay there.”

I crinkled up my nose in disgust and they both laughed.

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