Rolling Stone. Part Two.

Handing in his project, with a family tree that was more gaps than family, felt good despite it all. That was one load off his back. But while the project was done, the niggling questions about his father remained in his mind. He’d spent far too much time and money on surfing the net trying to find out all he could about this man he’d never known, and as a result his project had become a little neglected and then rushed at the end. But he’d managed to track down the address of the clinic, and from that the address of where Dr. Douglas Ross lived. His father. And he was going to go and see him. Spring vacation was coming up, he had a week off and he would go on a trip up to Portland, maybe take Rob as well, and go and pay a visit to his long lost dad. What would he say? Would he just stand there on the doorstep and say “Hi, Dad”? Or “Hi, I think I’m your son.” Or, “Remember me? You screwed my mom eighteen years ago and this is what you got.” He couldn’t work out if he was angry or not. He was sure he should be. The man walked out on his mom when he knew she was pregnant with his child. So he was angry. A bit. But he didn’t want to start a fight. He just wanted to meet him. Pretend he’d known him. Pretend he’d been there. Perhaps they could play some ball Perhaps this guy would slam the door in his face. He had to see him. He had to know what the situation was. Would he look like him? How old was he? What if he was some four-foot, ugly-assed doctor with a criminal record? What if he didn’t remember ever fathering a kid in Chicago? He would never know, unless he went to see him. And he was going to. Irrespective of who thought what.

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The sun rose the next morning, the air rippling as the cold of the night met the heat of the day. Skid sat behind the wheel of his truck and watched the sun come up, gripping the wheel, rubbing his palms over it, round it. In the back of the truck, Rob woke up slowly, knocking his head on the spare wheel, the sitting upright before looking behind him to see Skid. He turned back again, looking at the sky turning a light blue as he stretched and stood up. He bounced a little to get Skid’s attention and raised a hand in a good morning gesture. From inside the cab, Skid smiled and turned the key to check his gas gauge. They’d need to stop for gas within the next few miles, or else he’d end up stuck at one of those SOS points on the Interstate. Rob opened the passenger door and climbed in, slamming it behind him and yawning.

“How long we got to go now?”

“Are we nearly there yet?” Skid whined, mimicking Rob.

“Shut up, it’s too early! How much more of the country have we got to cover?”

“I guess we’ve got about another eight hours to go, at least. More like ten?”

“Jeez. Where we at now?” He tapped the little clock on the dash, and it blinked on, reading 5.09am. “Oh maaaan. 5 in the morning? I don’t believe it. I’m not sure I like this back to nature crap after all. How long you been up?”

“‘Bout an hour before you. I couldn’t sleep. Ya know how it is. Big day. I can’t sleep before a big game usually, let alone this kinda thing.”

“Well you may not be able to sleep but I sure could. How bout you drive the first four hours while I cop a bit more shut eye.”

“Sure. As long as you don’t mind me playing this.” He waved a CD in the air.

“What is that? Give it here…Limp Biskit at 5am? You have to be kidding.”

“Yeah, I am. No I’m not. Yeah, I am.” He played off Rob’s reactions, enjoying himself, before settling on not playing the CD in exchange for playing Dido, which they agreed was soothing and also conducive to hot dreams for Rob. “Just as long as you watch yourself in here, know what I mean?”

“Jesus Skidder, give me some credit.”

They accelerated out of the field and were back on the Interstate within minutes. Rob slept and Skid sang along to his CD under his breath. Four hours later, he pulled into a lay-by and smacked Rob around the head.

“Hey, get up. Your turn.”

“Ugh. Alright already, I’m up, I’m up. Mom.”

They got out of the truck and swapped sides, grinning. “How about some of that Limp Bizkit CD now? I gotta stay awake, we don’t want to be ploughing into any trees.”

“How about Queen? It’s got Bohemian Rhapsody….”

“Hell yeah!! ‘Hey Mr. DeeJay, put that record on’,” he squealed in a high-pitched Madonna impression. Skid put the CD into the player and adjusted the bass to satisfactory levels before they both launched into song. Before long, they were both head-banging their way through the chorus…

“…nothing really matters, anyone can see. Nothing really matters, nothing really matters to meeeeeeeeeeeeee.”

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His mom had not been overjoyed when he announced his plans for the spring break one mealtime. She’d got that worried disbelief look on her face, the one that she pulled when he thought he’d pre-warn her about his upcoming history grade, or when he had to tell her he’d pitched straight though the back window for the sixth time. It was not a good look. But he wasn’t going to let it stop him this time.

“You’re going to see your dad?”

“Yeah. I got his address.”

Then his mum did her goldfish impression, opening and closing her mouth while she decided what to say, and looking around at everyone else for help with the construction of a sentence. He’d looked around the room too, surreptitiously. Admittedly, he may have not chosen the best time to make his announcement – his Aunt Linda was there and one of Bruno’s friends.

“How did you…”

“I got it off the Internet, I looked up his name.”

There she was again, goldfishing away. He didn’t mean to hurt her, he didn’t want to hurt her at all. But sometimes a man had to do what a man had to do, he thought importantly.

“But Skiddo…”

All his feelings of masculinity and importance were crushed with that one stupid nickname.

“Look Mom. No offense, really. But this is something I really want to do. I just want to meet my dad. I’m not expecting anything, like I don’t expect him to invite me to live with him, or to give me money, or anything like that. I just want to meet him is all. Okay?”

She was still in shock. But she didn’t say anything more, just ate some more chicken and tried to make some more conversation to steer away from the subject. All in all it made for an awkward evening. That night, when he was in his room trying to do some math equations, she put her head around his door and crept in, sitting down on the bed next to him. He moved a bit, trying not to get mad that she’d just sat on the piece of paper he was working from.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“What’re you doing?”

“Math.”

She smiled.

“Skid…”

“I know what you’re going to say.”

“No you don’t. I was going to say I’m okay with you going to find your Dad. I just don’t want to see you come back disappointed. I don’t remember much about him, so I can’t tell you what to expect.”

“That’s okay, Mom. I’m not doing this to spite you or anything, I’m not mad that you don’t know much about him or whatever. I’m just doing this for me, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

She leaned forward and hugged him.

“Just be careful. Don’t you go running off on me too.”

He pulled back, concerned and shocked that she would think that, but couldn’t find the words to express it. She left his room, seeming content although her smile betrayed a hint of sadness.

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It was a more subdued pair that turned down Lakeview Drive late in the afternoon.

“Hey man. Let me get out here. You don’t want me around for this, I’ll go down there to that lake and watch the ducks or something.”

Skid pulled over to the kerb and smiled at Rob gratefully. “Thanks. I won’t be long.”

“No sweat, take your time.”

His friend stepped out of the truck and walked down a narrow path towards the lake that was visible a short way away. Skid watched Rob go, and then accelerated slowly down the road, looking at the houses for number twelve. It wasn’t until he was someway down the lane that he caught sight of a small sign that said “The Rosses” and he had to reverse to look closer. That was it. Number twelve, the Ross household. He cut the engine and looked at the clock – 4.32pm. Maybe he’d be out. He’d be at work. Or at the bowling alley. Or at a bar, getting rat-assed. He could do with a beer himself. But this probably wasn’t the time. “Hi Dad, I’m your alcy son.”

Skid got out of the truck, taking the keys with him. He stood by it, looking at the house, the green grass, the lake now closer by, the edge of a small pier if he strained his neck. The house was big – about the same size as two of his own house. There were trees everywhere, and someone had been busy planting flowers in pots on the porch that ran around the house. Maybe he was a gardener type. He saw a drape move in one of the windows and jumped a little. He probably looked like some sort of stalker, standing staring at the house. Now or never. He took a couple of steps forward, turned back to the truck, then turned back again and walked down the path to the porch. Going up the steps, he saw a small boat docked at the pier, a couple of deckchairs on the porch itself, a pail, and a lawn mower on the lawn in front of the pier. Looking back at where he stood he reached for the doorbell and after a moment when his finger didn’t seem to want to go any further, he rang it.

Almost instantly he panicked. What was he going to say? He hadn’t thought about this at all, just stupid things that made no sense. It was too late to run now, he could hear footsteps and shouting, oh god he’d interrupted something, what if the guy hit him, maybe he could run, where did he put the keys for the truck, what if Rob wasn’t waiting…

“Hi. Can I help?”

The woman had a friendly smile. She also had a small child attached to one leg that was gazing up at him and waving a small shovel that matched that pail he’d seen outside. Oh my God, he has other children.

“I, uh.” He took a breath to try and collect his thoughts and get his mouth to operate properly. “Does Dr. Ross live here?”

“Yes, do you want me to get him? Honey, get off me please.” She swiped at the girl softly, who giggled, still looking at Skid.

“Uh, yeah, please.”

“It’s not an emergency is it?”

“Oh, no, sorry, no it’s not…if it’s a bad ti” But she had already gone, shouting through to the rear of the house. She returned quickly, with a child’s chair in one hand. “Did you want to come in?”

“Uh, I, uhm.” Before he could get any further, he saw a figure come out from behind the wall of the living room, which had been obscuring his view of the whole house. He was tall with a built frame, holding a glass in one hand and sipping from it. He had short hair, and a jaw line that Skid saw every morning in the mirror. He was wearing a shirt over a white tee, and black jeans with a small hole in one knee. His head ticked to one side, looking around the corner even after he’d come past it, and put the glass down on the counter to walk to the door. He was saying something…oh, he was saying something.

“Sorry?”

“I’m Dr. Ross, was there something I could do?”

“I. Uh. This is, well, um. Hi. This is difficult, uh. My name’s Skid. Uhm. My mom. Her name is Angel, actually, Angelina, but everyone calls her Angel and her surname is Westwood, uhm. And I’m her son, and uh…”

Dr. Ross stepped closer to him, still looking at him from that peculiar angle. This time he spoke softer, “Angel Westwood? From Chicago?”

“Yeah…well, Nebraska now. You remember?”

This guy, the doctor, had taken a step back and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before looking at the woman over one shoulder and sending some sort of invisible message so that she nodded and picked up the infant, leaving the room and going out towards the far end of the house.

“Come in, here, take a seat. Yeah, I remember Angel. I think I know where you fit into this too, uhm.”

“Yeah, I…I’m not here to ask for anything, or expect anything, or to get money or anything bad at all, it’s just that well I was doing this project, and it was about doing a family tree and mom said she didn’t know much about you because it was a one night stand and that she had this letter, it had your name on the top and I never knew your name before so I thought I’d find out where you were and stuff about you and I read you were a doctor and you lived here…”

“Okay. Slow down. I’m not going to shout at you or anything, okay? Just give me a few moments to take this in…Skid? Did you say that was your name?”

“Yeah. Mom has a goofy sense of humour, she said when I was born she went into labour in Wal-Mart and they had to call a cab and the cab driver said “Holy shit, we’d better skidaddle then!” when he saw her, and she thought that word was funny…and it ended up on my birth certificate.”

Despite the shock of it all, he chuckled. He. His father. Skid was so relieved that he wasn’t angry. He knew he was babbling, just talking a load of crap but he was beyond caring. He hadn’t been thrown out, or yelled at, or hit.

“Skid…Wow, this is really. Um. Out of the blue. I don’t know where to start. I’m Doug, by the way,” he reached out a hand to shake, which Skid accepted. “You’re probably really angry,” he looked up from his hands and glanced at Skid, smiling a little, “I don’t really know what to say. I can’t really make up for what I did…”

“I’m not mad. Well. I am a little I suppose. But I’m not really angry or anything. Mom said that neither of you really expected anything from…what you did.”

“Yeah.”

There were a few moments of uncomfortable silence.

“I’m sorry to come barging in on your life. I don’t know how you feel, but I’d be real messed up over it probably. I’m not saying you’re messed up. I mean.”

“That’s okay. How about you tell me about you. You must be…sixteen?”

“Seventeen.”

“Oh. So you’re in high school, right?”

“Yeah…” He felt a little dumbstruck now as everything sank in. He was sitting here, in this house, talking to his dad. His dad. That was taking a while to really sink in. This big house, in Portland. His dad was a doctor. He had a daughter, a little girl with dark hair. And a girlfriend, or a wife maybe. And a lake in his back yard.

“…sports?” He woke up to the tail end of the question but was distracted by the sudden thundering of feet on stairs and the small girl threw herself at the couch, next to his father…and her father too. My god. He was looking at his sister. He had a sister. He stared at her, and she stared back at him before crawling along the couch to Dr. Ross…dad…Doug…what should he call him? Oh no, had he scared the girl? She was all balled up next to her dad, and didn’t want to meet Skid’s eye at all now. He was looking down at her, grinning and pulling her up to sit on his lap. He looked at Skid.

“Skid, this is Tess. She’s a little shy. The other one, you saw her before with Carol, at the door, she’s called Kate. They’re four, right Tess?”

The girl nodded. She was tiny, he thought. “Hi, Tess.” She still wouldn’t look at him. He didn’t mind. She was four, she could be forgiven. How was she to know who he was anyway?

“Tess, why don’t you go and find your mom and Kate? They’re in the den.”

She nodded and got up, scooting around the table that stood in the middle of the living room, and running off in the direction that the others had disappeared to.

“She’s cute.”

“She’s a trouble maker.” Doug grinned.

“Yeah, I…I have two brothers and they’re even worse.”

“How old are they?”

“Seven and nine. They’re really my half brothers. Their father died.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay.”

The heavy silence took a hold of the room and air around them again, until Doug shifted in his seat, gazing to his left quickly before looking directly at Skid.

“Look, Skid. This is difficult, and there is no way we’re going to get to know each other in a couple of hours sitting here. It’s not going to be something that can be resolved that quickly.”

“No, that’s okay, really I know. I’m sorry, you want me to go.”

“No, I don’t want you to go, not just yet. I want to know more about you, but I’m feeling a little out of my depth here. I mean…” he looked out of the window to the right, before looking back at Skid, his eyes smiling, “…18 years is a long time.”

Skid felt bad. He didn’t know why, but he looked at his hands, all crumpled up on his lap, and nodded.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to do.”

“S’okay.” He looked up at the man who had fathered him. He was honest, and it kinda hurt, but it was better than them sitting around pretending to know each other. Doug looked straight back at him, grinning lopsidedly so try and take out some of the sting of what he was saying, but with an unreadable expression in his eyes. He looked out of the window again.

“How about I give you the tour?”

“Okay.”

They stood up, and moved around the house, stopping in each room, stopping by each photograph, and ending up outside by the jetty in silence, but now a more comfortable silence. Skid gazed over the water. It was an amazing place to live. The house was big, and the kids had their own room each, plus there was a study. There were photographs of the twins everywhere, and some photos of the woman – Carol’s – family. There was just the one shot of Doug’s mother, sitting on a shelf with lots of others, not really noticeable. He hadn’t wanted to ask about Doug’s parents, or why there were so few pictures of them. Some people were like that, he supposed. The lake was really something, he could imagine taking that boat out and sailing round the whole place, even thought he’d never sailed anywhere in his life. It was all so peaceful. But he missed his mom, somewhere deep in him. If only she’d stayed with Doug…but he knew he couldn’t continue that thought. Doug was his father. He looked a bit like him. He wasn’t as tall, but he was that same build. He wished he had the same sun tanned look. And he was a doctor, so he must be real clever. He wouldn’t want to know about Skid’s grades.

“I’m the pitcher for our high school baseball team.”

Doug looked at him.

“I…you asked what sports I liked…”

Doug nodded. “Pitcher, huh? I could never pitch. They said my throwing arm was too weak. Could slug a ball right out of the universe though.” He grinned, and Skid grinned back.

“Here…” Doug picked up a stone from the edge of the water. “Show me what you can do.” He gestured towards the lake. Skid was confused for a moment, and then figured it out. Taking a step back, he threw the stone out over the water, watching it fly out into the distance, bursting through the air and sliding across the lake’s surface as the trajectory dipped down before finally breaking the surface and falling to a resting place somewhere in the depths. Maybe it had further to go, inclines to roll down, underwater plants to block its path. But where it stopped, it would stay. No longer washed up on the sides, back where it belonged.

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*Quick (ish) Author’s Note* I know this seems like a very abrupt and strange place to end. It seemed right to me to end it there though because I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go with this. I really need to know from anyone who read this if you think I should carry on with the idea as a longer series, or if I should just leave it like this, a two-parter. Cheers.

©Triggersaurus2001