Fathers and Sons

I pull the car into the garage. No van. Joanne isn't home yet and I'm a little sad about how relieved that makes me. Just a few minutes of quiet are all I need before we go another six rounds about the settlement conference.

When the coach meets with you to tell you your kid has a chance at making it in the big times, getting a full-ride at a Division I school, he rarely stops to mention that it could all go to shit in an instant and that the next person you're going to talk to is a guy whose name sounds vaguely familiar until you realize that he's the one who advertises on cable telling you that he'll get you a good settlement.

I pause outside the door. The television is on. I push open the door and find Jason on the couch, but first I almost trip over his transfer board.

"You lose something, buddy?" I ask Jason.

He doesn't even turn to acknowledge me. "Yeah, kind of threw it over there."

I put the board back across his chair and reach down to pick up a glass that's lying on the floor. It's a little wet where water spilled. I wonder if I should ask him about it. I look up at his impassive face and decide a direct question isn't probably going to get me my best answer.

"You need something to drink?"

I pause and wait for an answer, but one doesn't come. I head into the kitchen, open the door and pull out a beer. I grab one for Jason, as well. I don't believe in using alcohol to solve your problems, but it's clear that something has happened.

I cross back into the living room, crack open the cans and set them down on the coffee table. Jason looks over, but still doesn't say anything.

"You want to sit up?" I ask as I cross over to him. He nods and I carefully slip my arms under his, sliding him up into a sitting position on the couch. I pass him a beer and sit down across from him. "Hard day?"

Jason takes a long drag off the can and then rests it on his legs. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Thinking about tonight?"

Jason shrugs. Stupid question. Of course he was.

"You know, we all wish that it could be different," I start. We had never really talked about any of it—the lawsuit, the rugby, even the accident.

I watch as Jason holds the can up to his mouth and takes a drink. Even something as simple as drinking a beer was hard for him. That broke my heart, but it wasn't the worst of it.

"Jay, son, I think you need to get back to school."

He lowers the can and looks at me. "I don't think that's going to fix things, Dad."

"You need to get back to a more normal life and sitting around here isn't going to help you do that."

"Normal life, like hanging out with the team and going out with Lyla?" he spits back at me.

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean. Get out of this house. Start acting like you're seventeen, not seventy."

Jason sighs and takes another drink of the beer. "Yeah, well I don't know if it's even an option now."

"What do you mean?" I ask, leaning back in my chair. I slide my leg up across my knee.

"Lyla's pretty pissed at me," Jason offers. "She came over today and pretty much called me out for the miserable ass that I've become."

"Well, there seems to be a lot of that going on around here," I respond.

"We need to make sure this thing ends tonight, Dad," he says. "This lawsuit has to be over. It's killing you and mom—ruining our family. It's worse than the accident."

I sigh. I wish it could be. "I just don't know how we can do that, Jason. I can't see where they'll settle for enough to make it worth it."

"But, what do we need?" he asks me. "What do we owe? Not worrying about me and my future, what is the immediate need?"

I sit and think for a minute. I know all the figures, it's just a matter of adding them all up. "Well, we borrowed against the house and the business. It's about $200,000, Jason."

"And other things that might come up?" he asks. "Are there other things we need to do to the house or anything?"

"I think we should get you a car you can drive and I worry about college—you still want to go to college, don't you?" I ask.

"Yeah," Jason replies. "I think I'd like to go up to Austin, somewhere that has a good quad rugby squad. I still want to keep doing that."

"Good," I reply. "I never cared if you played football or not, but I could see how much you loved it. I can see the same thing when you're playing rugby. I just want you to be happy, Jason."

"So do you think $300,000? $400,000?" Jason asks, pushing me.

"Probably $500,000, cause we have to pay the lawyer," I reply. "But he wants us to ask for seven million."

Jason laughs and tips up his beer can to finish the drink. "Sounds like he was the one who got dropped on his head, not me!"

I laugh. We both stop as we hear the garage door opening. "Better get these out of here and…" I lean forward and hold out a breath mint. Jason opens his mouth and takes it. "You know your mother is a Methodist. I don't think she'd ever understand the need for men to bond over barley."

"Thanks, Dad," Jason answers.

I stop and turn back to look at him and smile. Best damned son.

FIN

Feedback gratefully received and acknowledged at rachel _wilder@hotmail.com