Visit

The truck crept through the entrance as he examined the numbers above the doors. He double checked his car doors  before heading inside. The kids playing near the dumpster eyed him suspiciously. The suit and tie were a warning sign in this neighborhood.

He held his breath while climbing to the third floor - the smell of urine filled the stairwell The crumpled paper instructed him to go to door on the right - number 6 - at the top of the stairs. He stood facing the door. The number nine laughed at him. A quick glance at the door on the opposite side yielded the number five. He reached out and nudged the nine upward until it said 6.

He collected his thoughts before knocking. A vaguely familiar voice erupted, but he could only decipher obscenities. A hardened, weary face greeted him.

"Hey there, I didn't think you would actually show." The older man turned away and took a seat.

"I said I was coming." The younger man stepped through the doorway and closed the door. It rattled as he pushed hard to secure it with a deadbolt and chain. He cringed the clearly visible hallway in the quarter inch gap around the door.

"Leave it, I've tried to fix it countless times." Smoke flowed through the old man's nostrils as he spoke. Ashes fell in a glass bowl on the table as he tapped the cigarette.

"Okay." The young man mumbled while taking a seat perpendicular to the older man. The bright blue sectional couch filled the two walls.

"So, who died?" The old man laughed while motioning at his visitor's suit.

"Oh, this is for work, they make me wear it." The embarrassment of his work attire surprised him.

"Mr. Big Shot."

"You say so." The old man nodded. He felt the sting of the old man's backhanded compliment. His eyes crisscrossed the room as he examined the squalor of the old man's living conditions. He had the urge to wash his hands, but nothing short of a Silkwood-style shower could wash the filth of this place from a body. "So, what did you want to see me about?"

"Well, does a man need a reason to see his son?"

"Well." The answer to the question was not obvious.

"Yeah. Well, I'll be moving soon to a place where I'll get some assistance." He began coughing and reached for a cup and drained its contents before continuing. "Anyway, I won't have as much room, so I thought you might want some of this stuff."

"Oh." He wondered if it was financial or physical assistance, but was afraid to ask since financial could lead to requests for money. He examined the contents of the apartment and knew the appropriate place for everything was aa dumpster.

"Well, don't sound so thrilled. Honestly, I have a couple things I wanted to give you." He rocked back and forth before gaining enough momentum to raise the shrunken body. He crossed the room and disappeared in a back room.

The word "honestly" swam through his mind. He wondered what it meant to the old man as he couldn't remember the last time his father had told him the truth. His eyes drifted to the stained burnt orange carpet as his mind wandered. He realized the anticipation in the car on the way here had been misplaced. He was a stranger in this world and this man was a stranger to him. There was a time, so many years ago, when a meaningful conversation could happen, but those days were long gone. He felt the pull and desire to leave, but guilt kept him in his seat.

"Here it is." The old man emerged with two objects in his hand. He gasped while returning to his seat. Upon catching his breath, he turned to his son with outstretched hands - an offering awaiting acceptance.

"Oh, what do we have here?" Curiosity got the best of the younger man as he leaned forward for the treasures. He grabbed the two objects and examined them without a hint of recognition.

"That card is gold, I got it when I bowled a 300. It was 1973 in Dayton. A blizzard hit the day before and I barely made it to the tournament." Pride covered his face while lighting another cigarette. Its tip glowed as he watched the younger man examine the treasure.

"I remember you telling me about it." A knot formed in his throat as he tried to swallow. The date on the gold treasure told a much different story. It was his birthdate and father had opted to go bowling instead of witnessing it. He wanted to add that it was not gold, only fake gold plated. 

"And that other old wedding ring. It wasn't the best marriage, but it did produce you and your brothers." He pushed the cigarette butt into the ashtray while watching his son slowly turn the ring between index finger and thumb.

"Yeah." He wondered how the old man had forgotten to mention his sister. The small round object was a fraud as there never was a wedding ring. In fact, he couldn't remember a ring in his second or third marriages either, so he wondered about the origins of the ring.

"I wanted you to have these things to remember me. I'll be gone before you know it."

"I appreciate it." The words dropped from his mouth without thinking. He pushed his body forward and sat on the edge of the sofa, preparing to leave.

"Something wrong?" The old man sensed the moment and felt the stab of loneliness returning. He searched for the words to keep the younger man longer. He swallowed hard and watched every movement savoring the moment.

"No, but I do have to go." He was surprised that the words came out feeling a stab of guilt. He couldn't remember feeling this bad. The emotions were overwhelming as he reached out to shake the old man's hand and pat him on the back. He turned once at the top of the stairs and the old man stood watching, he waved and disappeared into the stifling heat of the late afternoon.

The cool wind of the air conditioner beat his face as he sped away. The tears erupted as the unfamiliar surroundings streamed by the windows. He had tried so hard to forgive and forget, but his father had reached into his soul one more time and turned his world upside down.