![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
"Matt's dad is old," I said, taking a swig of orange juice from my favorite Garfield mug.
"He's not that old," my mom answered, reaching into our olive green fridge for some bologna.
"He IS that old" I answered. "His hair is gray and he limps when he walks. Can you put extra mayo on my sandwich?"
"Mr. Finlay is a vet."
"No he isn't! Matt says he's a soldier!" I interrupted.
She laughed. "Right, not a vet like a veterinarian, a vet like a military veteran. He was in the Army in Vietnam. That's how he hurt his leg." She poured red Kool-Aid into my Care Bear Thermos, the one that didn't leak.
"Is that cherry or tropical punch?" I asked. "He's kinda grumpy - like all the time. Matt says last week his dad got mad and smashed up his Lego spaceship - just into a million pieces - and he's been working on it since his birthday!"
My mom gave me a measured look. "It's tropical punch. And, sometimes when you go through something hard, like being in a war, it changes you. Melinda says he wasn't like this when they got married..." she trailed off.
She handed me my bologna and cheese, wrapped up in a plastic sandwich bag, and my Thermos. "Put these in your backpack," she said. "And, just be polite and don't say anything about his limp - he's a hero!"
Matt lived four houses away in our subdivision outside of Atlanta. It was one of many suburban developments that sprung up in the early 80's, hundreds of houses with streetlights and sidewalks connecting meandering roads. At one end, the gates at the front of the neighborhoods sported names like Everwood or Monticello - ours was Williamsport - and at the other end, you'd find a swimming pool, tennis courts and a clubhouse perfect for hosting birthday parties. There were a lot of kids in that neighborhood, so that clubhouse saw a lot of action.
At eight years old, I would wake up at dawn and ride my bike to Matt's house where he'd join me on the street and we'd cruise the mile or so down to the pool for swim team practice. I'd run home to grab lunch and then wouldn't come home again until my curfew, which my mom proclaimed as "When the fireflies come out." It was idyllic, a suburban utopia with cookie cutter homes and a Tupperware tray of cookies on every counter, but I know for a fact what went on behind closed doors in Williamsport was a lot less sweet.
Mr. Finlay scared me a little. He was nice enough most of the time but when you were around as much as I was, parents kind of forgot you existed, and they stop being polite in front of you. I'd seen him bellow at Matt's mom and shake her till her teeth rattled. I watched wide-eyed when Matt spilled a drink on the carpet while we played Monopoly one afternoon and his dad dragged him out in the backyard to hold him by one arm and slap him until he couldn't stand up. No stranger to corporal punishment myself, it seemed a little extreme, but I figured, who hadn't been hit by their dad, right? When it happened, we just averted our eyes and acted like we didn't notice our friend's tear-stained cheeks and voices raw from crying.
At a swim meet earlier in the week, Matt's dad had proposed a day hike to my parents. While our neighborhood was a tribute to late-20th century civilized living, it was surrounded by miles and miles of unkempt woodland and he wanted to check it out. My parents agreed and that was how I found myself on a slightly sandy logging trail marching along with my best friend and his mercurial, limping father.
The woods were still, roasting in the heat of the late summer's afternoon. Dog day cicadas droned endlessly, a vibrating cadence that rose and fell, rose and fell, as we walked, the crackled chorus lulling me to sleepiness. All the animals Matt's dad had hoped to show us were resting in burrows and nests until twilight cooled the oven-baked air of the forest. We disturbed a crow that rose to the air, cawing furiously. Matt's dad startled too, ducking his head and glancing back at us nervously.
Never a quiet child, when I got bored I talked so I began to prattle on about whatever came to my mind. Did Matt see the Gummy Bears show on Saturday morning, it was really funny...I went back-to-school shopping with my mom and she wouldn't let me get the Trapper Keeper I wanted because she said it was just "expensive junk" but I did get a notebook with this sparkly dolphin on it that was really cool...Do you like Doritos or Fritos better? I love Doritos - especially Cool Ranch Doritos! - but barbecue Fritos are so good...Hey, Mr. Finlay, my mom say's you're a vet, like a war vet, not a veterinarian. How did you hurt your leg?"
Matt's dad fully stopped walking for a moment and turned to stare at me and I could see the anger in his eyes. Matt looked from his dad's face to mine and went a little white.
Woops.
Mr. Finlay's jaw worked for a moment before he answered me. "Yes, I am a war veteran, but it isn't something I like to talk about, or think about" he muttered under his breath. He started to walk again and beside me, Matt breathed a sign of relief.
But it was obvious something had changed. His dad's back was stiffer as we walked and now and then I could hear him muttering to himself. He kept glancing fretfully into the thick growth around the path. I didn't want to be in the woods with this man.
"Hey, Mr. Finlay, are you ready to go back now?" I asked.
"No, there's something I want to show you."
"I think I want to go back..."
"I want to show you and Matt something and it's only about a klick from here now."
"Click? I think I need to go to the bathroom. I want to go back."
In the distance, there was a thrumming sound from the sky.
Matt and I looked up curiously, but Mr. Finlay glanced up with fear.
"Do you hear that?" he whispered.
"Yeah, I think it's a helicopter!" Matt said with excitement.
The sound grew louder. Matt's dad stood frozen staring at the sky. The helicopter came into site off in the distance.
Matt cried out "Look dad! It IS a helicopter!" but Mr. Finlay grabbed him tight and covered his mouth. Matt's eyes were wide over his father's hand clutching his face.
The helicopter shot over us and in the distance we could see more coming in a line.
"SHHHH!" he whispered aggressively, pulling his hand from Matt's mouth. "We've got to get off the trail! Run for those trees!" He pointed to a stand of pines with kudzu vines climbing up the base.
I thought we were playing war. That we were PRETENDING the helicopters were coming to get us, but I knew it wasn't real! I got that little zing of faux-fear you could generate in the pit of your stomach when you played imaginary monster games with your friends. I was grinning as I ran down the sandy trail heading for the kudzu, Matt beside me and his dad breathing heavily behind us. THIS was exciting!
But when I got to the tree, and paused because there could be snakes under the vines, Mr. Finlay unceremoniously shoved me under the kudzu and squeezed in beside Matt and I. It was like a viney green tent with pine branches above and brown needles beneath us. The helicopters flew by, the whup whup whup of their blades rumbling like thunder. I wondered what was next in the game. Had Matt's dad planned this all along?
His father pulled a vine to the side and peered out toward the trail. When he looked back his face was white with anxiety. If he was pretending, he was doing a pretty great job of it! "I need you to stay here, I have to recon the area" he whispered to us. "You'll be safe. I'll come back as soon as I can."
I nodded gamely and he crawled out on his hands and knees, then stood up, crouching low, hugging the tree line and slowly headed away from us until he disappeared around a curve in the trail.
I turned to Matt, ready to exclaim how cool this was and saw he was silently crying, gulping air with terror etched on his face and tears streaming down his cheeks.
Matt was so brave! Matt was usually the first person to propose a game of cops and robbers or Empire versus Rebels!
"Are you ok?" I asked him. "It's just a game!"
"It's...It's not a game to him," he responded. "Sometimes he gets like this and, he thinks it's real!"
"Oh." I didn't know someone could pretend something so hard it became real. "Does he do it a lot?"
"Not a lot, but enough. I don't know if he even realizes he does it."
I was a kid, I didn't know what to say. That sounded really scary.
I put my hand on his knee. "I'm sorry."
Chin wobbling, Matt shook his head and angrily wiped the tears from his eyes. "I'm fine. Do you want to eat now?"
I raised my eyebrows. "Sure. I think my mom packed some Fruit Roll Ups for us to share!"
I fished in my backpack and Matt gratefully took one when I offered it to him.
"Do you think your dad will be back soon?"
"Dunno," Matt said. "But he always calms down sometime."
Mr. Finlay did come back. About an hour later. Walking tall down the middle of the trail, the little limp in his step. We called out to him from the tent of vines and he came back to us with a little laugh.
"I see you had your lunch. Are you ready to head home?" he asked, like nothing had happened. Was he just pretending now too, or did he not remember his earlier flip out?
Matt looked at me meaningfully. "Yeah dad, let's go home."
And the three of us started back toward the subdivision.
When I told my mom at dinner that night what had happened, about the helicopter and hiding and how scared Matt's dad was, she laughed lightly to me.
"Oh, I'm sure it was just a game!" she said, ruffling my hair. But I knew, in the way she and my father made eye contact across the table, that there was so much that wasn't being said.
"He's not that old," my mom answered, reaching into our olive green fridge for some bologna.
"He IS that old" I answered. "His hair is gray and he limps when he walks. Can you put extra mayo on my sandwich?"
"Mr. Finlay is a vet."
"No he isn't! Matt says he's a soldier!" I interrupted.
She laughed. "Right, not a vet like a veterinarian, a vet like a military veteran. He was in the Army in Vietnam. That's how he hurt his leg." She poured red Kool-Aid into my Care Bear Thermos, the one that didn't leak.
"Is that cherry or tropical punch?" I asked. "He's kinda grumpy - like all the time. Matt says last week his dad got mad and smashed up his Lego spaceship - just into a million pieces - and he's been working on it since his birthday!"
My mom gave me a measured look. "It's tropical punch. And, sometimes when you go through something hard, like being in a war, it changes you. Melinda says he wasn't like this when they got married..." she trailed off.
She handed me my bologna and cheese, wrapped up in a plastic sandwich bag, and my Thermos. "Put these in your backpack," she said. "And, just be polite and don't say anything about his limp - he's a hero!"
Matt lived four houses away in our subdivision outside of Atlanta. It was one of many suburban developments that sprung up in the early 80's, hundreds of houses with streetlights and sidewalks connecting meandering roads. At one end, the gates at the front of the neighborhoods sported names like Everwood or Monticello - ours was Williamsport - and at the other end, you'd find a swimming pool, tennis courts and a clubhouse perfect for hosting birthday parties. There were a lot of kids in that neighborhood, so that clubhouse saw a lot of action.
At eight years old, I would wake up at dawn and ride my bike to Matt's house where he'd join me on the street and we'd cruise the mile or so down to the pool for swim team practice. I'd run home to grab lunch and then wouldn't come home again until my curfew, which my mom proclaimed as "When the fireflies come out." It was idyllic, a suburban utopia with cookie cutter homes and a Tupperware tray of cookies on every counter, but I know for a fact what went on behind closed doors in Williamsport was a lot less sweet.
Mr. Finlay scared me a little. He was nice enough most of the time but when you were around as much as I was, parents kind of forgot you existed, and they stop being polite in front of you. I'd seen him bellow at Matt's mom and shake her till her teeth rattled. I watched wide-eyed when Matt spilled a drink on the carpet while we played Monopoly one afternoon and his dad dragged him out in the backyard to hold him by one arm and slap him until he couldn't stand up. No stranger to corporal punishment myself, it seemed a little extreme, but I figured, who hadn't been hit by their dad, right? When it happened, we just averted our eyes and acted like we didn't notice our friend's tear-stained cheeks and voices raw from crying.
At a swim meet earlier in the week, Matt's dad had proposed a day hike to my parents. While our neighborhood was a tribute to late-20th century civilized living, it was surrounded by miles and miles of unkempt woodland and he wanted to check it out. My parents agreed and that was how I found myself on a slightly sandy logging trail marching along with my best friend and his mercurial, limping father.
The woods were still, roasting in the heat of the late summer's afternoon. Dog day cicadas droned endlessly, a vibrating cadence that rose and fell, rose and fell, as we walked, the crackled chorus lulling me to sleepiness. All the animals Matt's dad had hoped to show us were resting in burrows and nests until twilight cooled the oven-baked air of the forest. We disturbed a crow that rose to the air, cawing furiously. Matt's dad startled too, ducking his head and glancing back at us nervously.
Never a quiet child, when I got bored I talked so I began to prattle on about whatever came to my mind. Did Matt see the Gummy Bears show on Saturday morning, it was really funny...I went back-to-school shopping with my mom and she wouldn't let me get the Trapper Keeper I wanted because she said it was just "expensive junk" but I did get a notebook with this sparkly dolphin on it that was really cool...Do you like Doritos or Fritos better? I love Doritos - especially Cool Ranch Doritos! - but barbecue Fritos are so good...Hey, Mr. Finlay, my mom say's you're a vet, like a war vet, not a veterinarian. How did you hurt your leg?"
Matt's dad fully stopped walking for a moment and turned to stare at me and I could see the anger in his eyes. Matt looked from his dad's face to mine and went a little white.
Woops.
Mr. Finlay's jaw worked for a moment before he answered me. "Yes, I am a war veteran, but it isn't something I like to talk about, or think about" he muttered under his breath. He started to walk again and beside me, Matt breathed a sign of relief.
But it was obvious something had changed. His dad's back was stiffer as we walked and now and then I could hear him muttering to himself. He kept glancing fretfully into the thick growth around the path. I didn't want to be in the woods with this man.
"Hey, Mr. Finlay, are you ready to go back now?" I asked.
"No, there's something I want to show you."
"I think I want to go back..."
"I want to show you and Matt something and it's only about a klick from here now."
"Click? I think I need to go to the bathroom. I want to go back."
In the distance, there was a thrumming sound from the sky.
Matt and I looked up curiously, but Mr. Finlay glanced up with fear.
"Do you hear that?" he whispered.
"Yeah, I think it's a helicopter!" Matt said with excitement.
The sound grew louder. Matt's dad stood frozen staring at the sky. The helicopter came into site off in the distance.
Matt cried out "Look dad! It IS a helicopter!" but Mr. Finlay grabbed him tight and covered his mouth. Matt's eyes were wide over his father's hand clutching his face.
The helicopter shot over us and in the distance we could see more coming in a line.
"SHHHH!" he whispered aggressively, pulling his hand from Matt's mouth. "We've got to get off the trail! Run for those trees!" He pointed to a stand of pines with kudzu vines climbing up the base.
I thought we were playing war. That we were PRETENDING the helicopters were coming to get us, but I knew it wasn't real! I got that little zing of faux-fear you could generate in the pit of your stomach when you played imaginary monster games with your friends. I was grinning as I ran down the sandy trail heading for the kudzu, Matt beside me and his dad breathing heavily behind us. THIS was exciting!
But when I got to the tree, and paused because there could be snakes under the vines, Mr. Finlay unceremoniously shoved me under the kudzu and squeezed in beside Matt and I. It was like a viney green tent with pine branches above and brown needles beneath us. The helicopters flew by, the whup whup whup of their blades rumbling like thunder. I wondered what was next in the game. Had Matt's dad planned this all along?
His father pulled a vine to the side and peered out toward the trail. When he looked back his face was white with anxiety. If he was pretending, he was doing a pretty great job of it! "I need you to stay here, I have to recon the area" he whispered to us. "You'll be safe. I'll come back as soon as I can."
I nodded gamely and he crawled out on his hands and knees, then stood up, crouching low, hugging the tree line and slowly headed away from us until he disappeared around a curve in the trail.
I turned to Matt, ready to exclaim how cool this was and saw he was silently crying, gulping air with terror etched on his face and tears streaming down his cheeks.
Matt was so brave! Matt was usually the first person to propose a game of cops and robbers or Empire versus Rebels!
"Are you ok?" I asked him. "It's just a game!"
"It's...It's not a game to him," he responded. "Sometimes he gets like this and, he thinks it's real!"
"Oh." I didn't know someone could pretend something so hard it became real. "Does he do it a lot?"
"Not a lot, but enough. I don't know if he even realizes he does it."
I was a kid, I didn't know what to say. That sounded really scary.
I put my hand on his knee. "I'm sorry."
Chin wobbling, Matt shook his head and angrily wiped the tears from his eyes. "I'm fine. Do you want to eat now?"
I raised my eyebrows. "Sure. I think my mom packed some Fruit Roll Ups for us to share!"
I fished in my backpack and Matt gratefully took one when I offered it to him.
"Do you think your dad will be back soon?"
"Dunno," Matt said. "But he always calms down sometime."
Mr. Finlay did come back. About an hour later. Walking tall down the middle of the trail, the little limp in his step. We called out to him from the tent of vines and he came back to us with a little laugh.
"I see you had your lunch. Are you ready to head home?" he asked, like nothing had happened. Was he just pretending now too, or did he not remember his earlier flip out?
Matt looked at me meaningfully. "Yeah dad, let's go home."
And the three of us started back toward the subdivision.
When I told my mom at dinner that night what had happened, about the helicopter and hiding and how scared Matt's dad was, she laughed lightly to me.
"Oh, I'm sure it was just a game!" she said, ruffling my hair. But I knew, in the way she and my father made eye contact across the table, that there was so much that wasn't being said.
