"When a Man is Needed"

And now for something completely different...

the Short Story now makes it's debut on the pages of my blog. Forgive any sophomoric tendencies of the author.

It was raining and a sad, dejected little boy sat down at the table to a breakfast he did not want to eat. He had been waiting for his father to return home from yet another business trip and the news from Mother this damp morning was that his father would not be home until Monday. A weekend wasted. All he wanted was to feel the stubble of his father's unshaven face scrape across his cheek as he embraced him and for he and Father to spend the day roughhousing together.

His father was not an exceptionally strong man, not exceptionally anything to speak of, but the boy indeed cherished every moment spent with his father. Father, equally disappointed, longed to be home with his family. He needed rest. He needed the beauty and comfort of his wife and the life that his son inspired in him. Too often he was away while his family arrived at new milestones. Last year, he missed his son's birthday so that his company might increase their bottom line. He was growing weary.

The morning dragged by and the child pondered Mother's offer: a jaunt into town for a matinee with dinner at his favorite youth centered restaurant. This prospect was not too desirable in the boy's eye, but better, he supposed, than watching the rain beat down upon a yard too sodden to play in. He conceded to Mother's offer and the two went off into the garage, keys jingling in Mother's hand.

As the pair drove down the country lane toward the town the boy thought of his hopes for this weekend. Of course he fancied it sunny and warm and in his dream he and Mother were in the back yard enjoying the Father's regal return to his throne. How appropriate the rain was. It was as if all heaven was weeping at the boy's misfortune.

The boy was now began to fight a feeling of anger, not towards his father, but at his absence. "Surely there were other boys whose father's were away sometimes," he thought. "Perhaps he likes to be away." The boy winced at that thought for he knew it to be a lie. Every time Father was away he came back hungry for time with his son and Mother. Bedtime was always extended with ample grace on those blessed evenings when his father returned home.

As the boy pondered this his mind wandered to Father's display of delight with Mother. He would lift her in his arms and spin her around the kitchen floor. There was, of course, the obligatory kiss and the lengthy embrace that accompanied it. He would then sit down at the table and patiently let her fill him in on all the preceding days' notables. The boy would lose his patience and crawl up in Father's lap just to be close to him. The scent of his father mingling with that morning's dose of cologne, the feel of the rough chin occasionally scraping across his youthful, tender forehead, and the firmness of Father's shoulders and chest are all things that the boy sensed. In addition to this his perception of time would go completely haywire. It would be as if he had only just crawled up into Father's lap when drowsiness would overtake him and he would fall asleep there supported gently by the man who loved him most.

He saw that Mother was as sad as he. She spent the better part of the morning in the same gloom that he was in. Mother dabbed at her eye with a handkerchief and on several occasions and looked into the mirror to regain her composure. She pulled her shoulders back, smiled, and, on at least two occasions, said, "Only two more days," to the reflection looking back at her in the mirror. In a moment of forced elation, she made her proposal to the boy in the hope that the trip into town would elevate their spirits, even if just a bit.

Mother's sad face belied her smile on a particular stretch of their journey and, as he noticed her sorrowful expression, it took the boy rather by surprise at his accompanying thought. He had always been sensitive to other people's emotions, but this time he felt compelled to act. Before he even realized the depth of his thought, he spoke to his mother.

"Mother," he boldly stated, "I don't want to go to the matinee." Before she could protest he continued, "Can we go to the University," he hesitated, "to the library?" He had often heard Mother and Father mention this place when they talked to each other in hushed tones.

Mother, a bit shocked at her son's question, paused for a slim moment before returning an answer. "What do we need to do at the University library?" she asked instead of the more obvious questions that passed into her mind.

The boy, not quite sure what to say, once again referred to those hushed words Father spoke to Mother. "To get to know each other?" he asked more than stated. He was now in new territory. His mother, sensing something out of the ordinary, did not seek to retire the boy's subject. "I just want to be somewhere that makes you think of Father," he said finally.

Her eyes moistened once again, though this time for an altogether different reason. She guided the car onto the street that led them to the University. There was no difficulty in finding a parking space this drizzly Saturday afternoon. Before the car had stopped completely the boy had unfastened his seat belt and was racing around the car to open Mother's door. He had seen his father do this all of his life. The smile on his mother's face told him why. Mother was quickly in sync with her son. Delight spread across her face, washing away all of the disappointment and gloom in an instant.

They folded their hands together and directed themselves to the path that led to the library. By the time they arrived at the grand doors they were practically skipping! Mother smiled as she took her son to the fiction study nooks- the very place she and Father met not all that long ago. She explained a few details of her attraction to the boy's father and the boy, who was bursting with excitement reached up to Mother's hands. He knew no dance steps, but did his best to improvise Father's routine there on the carpet of the University's library.

These two went on to enjoy a splendid afternoon together. The boy, aware that something inside of him had changed, was enjoying the charm he had on his mother, yet he missed his father all the more. The smile on his face never revealed it, though. He took Mother on a date. They danced in the library, they went to eat at a grownups' restaurant, and had hot tea (with lots of honey and milk) together afterward. The sun was very low in the sky when they made their way back home. Both were beginning to feel that familiar loneliness of Father's absence.

It was nearly dark by the time their car settled in their drive. Mother noticed that several lights were on in the house. "Son," she said, "why are all of those lights on? Didn't we turn everything off when we left?" The boy was sure they had and bravely suggested that they call on the neighbor to open the house with them. But before Mother could get the car into reverse the front door opened. The cause of the door's action stepped into the faint light. Excitement burst through the air as Mother and child exited the car each racing to Father.

By: Moshe E. Weisman