Date: Sun, 22 Jan 2012 17:34:29 -0700
From: Pete McDonald <bajabudfan@hotmail.com>
Subject: TIME-TO-SEE-23-

I set the timer on my cell phone for 4:30 A. M. before turning in last
night.  I was determined to be up and ready to take Hugo to work this
morning.  There was only the early morning darkness and Hugo and me.  It
was a pleasant and gentle beginning for the day.

We drove to the hospital, Hugo bundled in his fatigue jacket and me in a
tattered hoodie.  Hugo held my hand most of the way, but driving with one
hand on the deserted streets wasn't dangerous.  Most of the traffic lights
shown green, and I didn't have to stop but once the whole trip.

At the hospital I held my fingers up... "Three this afternoon?" I
asked. Hugo shook his head, "No." (I had forgotten he would be working
those extra three hours everyday; so three became six p.m.) Immediately I
indicated I screwed up and then held up six fingers... He smiled; shook his
head up and down, "Yes"; and leaned over to kiss me on the nose. I gropped
his crotch, and he recoiled playfully shaking his finger at me, like a nun
chastising a school boy.

I smiled coyly, and Hugo closed the car door.  It's great to be in love, I
recalled.

On my drive home I thought, "Hummm? What's up for today?  We're going to
need to talk about the dogs-- eventually... But I think we ought to wait
for Hugo to be a part of that discussion."

"I've got to remember to telephone Dr. Gilmer's office to set up office
visits for the boys this week.  Maybe I can do that first thing, like
eight-ish," I thought.

Then probably I ought to help the boys set up their rooms, and decide
whether we'd need any critical things... Like I think each of them will
need a study desk, chair, and lamp.  (Not that I delude myself into
believing that those items would be high on the "Things-To-Get" list of
either of the boys; but I am ready to begin the Home Schooling thing,
formally or not.  I know what these kids need-- mathematically speaking--
and I know we can make real progress working here at the house, together,
just the three of us...

Oh, yeah!  And I almost forgot.  Nicky will need some more clothes.; so we
probably ought to make a short trip to Target or such,... if we go today,
maybe we can get only a little bit of stuff.

It was only a little after six-fifteen a.m. when I got home; so both boys
were still fast asleep.  I did go upstairs and look in on both of them,
just to make sure they were both breathing-- a typical new-parent's move, I
told myself. And I felt love for each of them all over again when I saw
them sleeping.  Kids capture your heart and keep it imprisoned forever.
Then I went back downstairs to the kitchen.

I didn't make any noise, because I hoped the boys could sleep late, to get
as many hours of rest as possible.  We had been pushing them pretty
relentlessly, I think, with a little reflection.  They really didn't need
to be going out on all these shopping excursions, but I rationalized that
the joy the boys found in the doing would probably offset the energy
demands the trips placed on their bodies. At least I hoped so.

Today could be different.  We could actually keep them home, in their
"jammys", and ready for naps whenever they felt like sleeping.

And the no-go policy sounded pretty enticing to me too.  I'd forgotten that
I'm supposed to be in convalescence myself!  No shaky balance for me in a
day or two... good, good, I thought...

The toaster clanked and sputtered and spit two pieces of whole wheat out
the top.  I fixed myself a huge mug of green tea and then added a
half-teaspoon of Tulse Tea...

Now that stuff is supposed to calm the nerves and keep the lungs clear as
well.  (Maybe I should offer some to Jilder & Nicky?) I'd become convinced
that it did what was advertised, but I felt a little weird drinking the
stuff.  It tasted a bit like tea made from ground-up cedar shingles... the
wooden kind, you know.  Some stores called the stuff Holy Basal, but names
are just names, if it works, it works, if not, well... forget it.

I went into our office upstairs and picked up a few basic math textbooks.
No, no, I thought, these boys were probably way below these books.  I'll
need to pick up some 5th and 6th grade, maybe some 7th grade stuff.

So I decided to go on the internet and check out their math home schooling
material.  I've found some really meaningful material on the net.  The
mathematics there is magnificent: individuals exploring topics of interest
and commenting on the work that is posted.  I'm sure that there would be
something I could use to get started-- maybe even today.

I grabbed a news magazine and took it with me back into the kitchen.
Pouring through the conservative articles and munching on my toast and
sipping "cedar shingle" tea, I greeted the sun and wondered how late the
guys would sleep.  I liked being with them... as absurd and demanding as
they might turn out to be at any given time, I liked them both immensely.

No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than a very sleepy looking Nicky
rounded the corner into the kitchen, still in his p.j.s He made a beeline
for the breakfast nook and crawled on his knees into the far back of the
booth.  His movements were very careful as he gingerly lowered himself to
his seat.

"Well, good morning, Nicky!" I said.  "How'd you sleep?"

"Pretty good," he said with a yawn and a stretch-- well a
'modified-stretch' I might call it.  "I was so tired, I didn't wake up even
once."

"That sure sounds hopeful," I complimented him on his good report. With
that I went over to the kitchen cabinet where I kept the teas and coffee
and such and located the little brown bottle with Nicky's name on it.
"Ok," I said.  "You get one of these to keep you moving today."

"OK." he consented...

I pulled out one pill and dropped it in his hand, after which I put a glass
of water in front of him.  He took it dutifully and returned the glass to
the table.

"What would you like for breakfast?  Let me see, I could make some oatmeal
with cinnamon and strawberries; or I could fix you a couple eggs-- maybe
poached or even fried-- (don't tell Hugo fried) with toast; or we could
make some pancakes with syrup--(also can't have these every day... so much
syrup isn't good for us); what sounds good for today, Nicky?" I asked.

"Hummm?"  "Could I have some pancakes AND some eggs?" he asked.

"Sure.  That would be good for your healing body: protein and whole wheat
too, and a little syrup to make you remember how tasty it all was..." I
repeated.

"Good." He said. "And could I have some toast too, maybe?" He asked
carefully, as though he might overdo his requests...

"Absolutely, " I answered, "Just give me a few minutes to whip it up.  The
pancakes will take the most time, cause they have to be mixed into batter
first, then they ought to fry up reasonably fast.  And you like poached
eggs?" I asked.

"Humm?" he thought for a moment. "Yeah, with salt and pepper and butter,
like at the hospital..."

"Okay." I responded.  "Could you help me by getting egg out of the
frig... and the poaching pan is down in the cabinet over there."  This
won't take long...

And I set about organizing the meal, but I made everything in double
amounts anticipating that Jilder would be just as happy to take what was
already fixed.

*****

I was very pleased at how nice it smelled and how quickly it was ready to
eat.  I must not be as bad at this culinary thing as I'd
thought--Okay... not Hugo-gourmet quality, but serviceable for two hungry
kids.

Nicky had been quietly watching me mixing and grabbing things from the frig
and the cabinets; however, he eventually spoke up but with some
trepidation, "Do you think we could go to see my dad sometime?" Nicky asked
just barely audible.

"Yes, indeed, Nicky," I said.  "I'll need you to help me to plan a visit
though, because I don't know where he lives, and maybe you might want to
call him on the telephone first?" I asked.

"No.  There ain't no telephone," Nicky said.

There was a rather long pause in our conversation.

"Well, we can go as soon as you feel ready for the drive."

"OK," Nicky said, offering no additional details. Nicky had been totally
silent on his dad and where he had been living when he got sick.

I had been waiting for this subject to come up.  I knew that it had to be
simmering waiting for it's time.  I only hoped that I would be able to make
it less painful than it no doubt was likely to be.  Ever the courageous
little guy, Nicky was going to deal with this part of his life just as
honestly as he had everything since I'd met him.

"Do you want to wait until I can take you by yourself? Like, would you
rather not have Jilder along?" I asked offering to carry out his request
privately if he wished.

"Hummm?" Nicky thought for a long time, then said "I don't want Jilder to
see my dad because he don't look so good.  He drinks a lot; so's he looks
kinda bad sometime.  I tried to get him to stop drinkin so much, but he
couldn't stop.  He really tried sometime. Like he could go maybe two or
three days without no liquor, but then I'd find him drinkin and lying on
the sofa..."

Why are such little people put through the pain of a lifetime?  I wanted to
make all of Nicky's pain go away, but I knew that we had to go through this
visit, and let Nicky discover and deal with the realities himself.

"God! Why are you doing this?" I implored in my mind...

Then it occurred to me to share a little of the truth of Hugo's and
Jilder's lives.  No, I couldn't do that; it was not mine to share--but if
only Nicky were to realize that he wasn't the only person who was being
hurt, perhaps it might help him to feel his hurt allowing it to pass?

"Absolutely, Nicky. We won't say anything to Jilder.  We'll just plan our
visit for a time when Jilder is at the doctor's or maybe staying with Hugo
or with a nurse.  It'll be okay with him, actually.  He won't want to hurt
you by forcing you to do something that would make you feel bad."

"Good. When are you going to call the doctor's office so both of us can go
to see him?" Nicky asked.

"That was something I was going to work in today myself, Nicky. Now that
there's another reason to get organized, I won't forget to do it," I said.

"How soon do you want to go, Nicky?" I asked.

"As soon as I can.  I don't want dad to worry about me," Nicky said.

"Sure, I can understand that, Nicky. First, why don't you eat your
breakfast.  Then you go up to my office, which is that other room upstairs
between your room and Jilder's, and write down what you know about your
address and maybe the names of any neighbors or friends that might be able
to help us.  And maybe we can set up something for later today..."

I had NO idea what I'd do with Jilder while Nicky and I went out searching
for Nick's dad.  And I had no idea what a disaster we might stumble
into... "I wish Hugo could get some time off-- or WAIT!--" I
thought. "There was MY nurse from the hospital, what was his name??? Oh,
shit,.... Jake, Jake... YEAH!  I'll phone him and see whether he could put
in a little "baby sitting" time with Jilder while I take Nicky to see his
dad?

Actually, that sounded a little far-fetched to me, but I was a desperate
man.  I really did think that for Nicky's sake we needed to move fast, lest
his dad be dead!

I know that's a horrible thing to contemplate, but....

"GOD!, look what the fuck you've left for me to deal with!!!"

"I was NOT a happy camper, although I would NEVER fail to be there for
Nicky; no matter how fucking awful things might turn out to be," I
thought...

*****

The food was barely finished when our second wounded warrior rounded the
corner into the kitchen.  "Uuum. Ummm." Jilder said.  "That smells good.
Is there enough for me?" he said.

"Sure," I answered.  I thought you might be interested; so I made some
extra.  Can you handle eggs, toast, pancakes, and what? Milk or orange
juice?"

"Yeah!~ goooooood." Jilder said, ever the dramatic one... Maybe it's the
"Latin blood" that makes him so demonstrative?  (I love my little
prejudices... But I love Jilder more...:-)

And at once Jilder sat down, and the boys kicked off a
conversation... first "Jilder did you get your pill yet?" Nicky
asked... "No.  I gotta get it too, cause my sides are hurting some this
morning..."

I delivered the correct bottle of pills identical to Nicky's and gave one
pill to Jilder.  Down the hatch his went with an orange juice chaser.

Jilder asked, "Are you still working on Level III?" followed by an
over-stuffed mouth of pancakes... "mumble, mumble, mumble, " Jilder went
on...

"Yeah!  It's HHHHAAARRRRD!" Nicky opined...

"Naw.  You just got to work at it.  Pretty soon you'll get the idea how to
do it," Jilder said.

"I think I'm going to try that new game today," Jilder continued.

"Yeah! That one looks cool too," Nicky said.

"How many games do we got now?" Jilder asked.

At which juncture I SCREAMED:

"DO WE HAVE!!!!

"HOW MANY GAMES DO WE HAVE NOW!" I interjected in hopes of salvaging some
literacy in this household.

"Yeah! That's what I said," Jilder told me, looking at me like I was
loosing it.

"We each gots five.  The same ones.  Maybe we ought to get different ones
and then trade em sometime," Nicky suggested.

"We each HAVE five!" I howled a second time.  Both boys looked at each
other and then at me like I'd just lost my mind....

"That's what I said," Nicky repeated!

(WOULD I EVER PREVAIL???? ARE THEY TOO FAR GONE???)


And they went on with their conversation ignoring my inappropriate
outbursts.... ("Poor guy," no doubt, they were thinking of me....)

Jilder suggested: "Yeah! I was thinking that too.  After a while we'll have
so many games we can't play them all."

"How many games are there?" Nicky asked.

"I don't know.  Maybe a hundred," Jilder speculated.

"Where would we PUT a hundred games," Nicky asked aghast at the
possibility.

"We'd need a special box... each of us would need a big box that we could
fill up with game cartridges." Jilder contemplated.

"I don't think we'd need to lock em up? Do you?" Nicky asked.

"Naw! There would be only us using them.  Hugo and Kevin don't have a
PSP..." Jilder gave his quick assessment of security matters.

And so with the boys enjoying each other's company and ME serving only as a
de facto, un-necessary Grammarian, I decided to go upstairs and make myself
useful: I could phone the hospital to find whether Jake could sit with
Jilder today, and then it occurred to me that I might be able to get a name
and address for Nicky's father from the Hospital or maybe even from
Dr. Gilmer's office.

*****

The boys had learned to be each other's best friend in the hospital, and
that carried over to living here together. I figured that between the PSP's
and their speculations about them, they were good for at least an hour or
two without my management.

Or was I flattering myself that they would need my management much at
all???  Noooo.  I could definitely see some services that I could perform
in the years ahead before I outgrew my usefulness...

And the day was only a few hours old, but it had already asserted it's
demands on all of us.

Well, I'll get back to the boys in an hour or so, I thought.  Then I went
on up to the upstairs office.

*****

Dr. Gilmer's office had an address for Nicky's father, that would be
Nicky's former home address.  I googled it and printed out a map from
google maps. The address looked like it might be an hour or so away, if we
moved between rush hours.

As luck would have it, Jake was off today and tomorrow, and I asked whether
someone there could telephone him and ask him to call me concerning some
professional services-- I hoped that would get some action.

Sure enough, in about 30 minutes the phone rang and it was Jake.  I
explained Jilder's medical condition, what was going on with Nicky, and how
I needed someone who could handle his care for a couple of hours sometime
today or tomorrow.  Thank goodness Jake was happy to cover for me tomorrow,
and he said that he wouldn't take any pay.  It would be a favor to both
Hugo and me... Now that was really sweet of him.

So we agreed that Jake would show here at the townhouse tomorrow about noon
and take over; then Nicky & I could search for Nick's dad.  (It would be
nice if I were finished with this search well before I had to get get Hugo
at six.)

*****

Tomorrow all planned, I decided to find the boys.  Things in the house had
been quiet for much too long.  I was still only a fledgling parent and
couldn't consider that maybe the boys were in fact doing just fine without
me.  I did find them together in the family room one ensconced on the sofa
and the other sprawled in a comfortable overstuffed chair, each with PSP in
hand.

"Now, look at this, we're goin after that droid over there, the red one!"
Nicky yelled.

"Yeah!  I see him," Jilder responded.

"Watch out! He's got rockets. You see em?" Nicky warned.

"Oh, NO!... there he goes!" Jilder screamed.

At which point the small black boxes that both boys held sounded as if they
had exploded into smithereens and both boys screamed as though they were in
the heat of real battle-- and I suppose they were. Reality and fantasy blur
and become indistinguishable for human beings.  Is a fantasy catastrophy
less painful than an actual one?  I think not...

I was impressed that the boys had figured out how to join each other on
their cyber battlefield using the house wifi system... How do those little
fuckers DO that kind of thing???  Ask them to distinguish between "Do we
got?" and "Do we have?" and you've got a major undertaking before you.  But
a wifi battlefield-- no problem!

"Say, listen, guys.  Do you think you'd be in the mood to drive out to a
Target with me later this morning?  I'd like to pick up some jeans and
shirts for both of you," I offered.

Both of the boys remained intently involved with their battlefield
maneuvers, pushing buttons and falling back on the soft cushions. It took a
few moments before my query registered.

"Um.  Yeah!" Nicky answered tersely.  "Yeah!" Jilder agreed.

"Anything else you need to say?" I asked.

"No."  "No."

How could I have been so stupid!

So I went into the kitchen thinking that maybe I'd find one of those
advertising fliers that are left at your front door.  Target frequently
advertised that way.

Bingo! I found one.  Humm? I thought.  They've lowered prices on boys jeans
and a line of long-sleeved pull-over shirts, perfect for this late fall
weather.  I realized that we'll soon have to think about winter.

And to make ME feel better, those kids have just got to get some more socks
and tee shirts and underwear.  And sometime we've got to get another pair
of shoes. They'll never make it with only one pair of shoes... One good
thoughtless muddy splash in a parking lot and we'll need some drying time
for their present shoes.

Okay... I think we can do it if they'll just cooperate.  Maybe I can entice
them away from their PSP's by promising a lunch and gooey desert from
Coco's when we finish the shopping?  Okay.  My strategy formulated, I was
ready to address the combatants.

"Uungh, uungh," I cleared my throat to attract a little attention.

NOTHING!  The PSP battle raged on...

"Uungh, uungh," I tried again...

NOTHING!

"JILDER! NICKY!  I want you guys to get ready to go to Target pretty soon--
LIKE RIGHT NOW!" I figured that I needed to get specific.

"OK."

"OK."

NOTHING.


I'd pull the plug on these electronic monsters, IF THERE WERE A FUCKING
PLUG TO PULL!


"REALLY, GUYS!  I think we ought to be serious about going out.  Who's
going to need some clothes to cover his ass and then notice there aren't
any???? NOT ME, GUYS!"  I tried to appeal to their logic.

"OK."

"OK."

NOTHING...

*****

I decided to deliver an ultimatum:

"NOW, Boys!  Get your coats on AT THIS INSTANT!  Meet me in the garage
right away!"  and I left the family room.


Minutes later I sat in the driver's seat of the SUV with the garage door
opened already...

NOTHING.

NEXT: I blew the fucking horn!  Again! and Again and Again!!!


Two boys in windbreakers half zipped up exploded from the door out of the
kitchen yelling, "We're commin.... We're commin.... Just a minute..."

Both back car doors opened and slammed and the vehicle jostled and bounced
as the boys boarded.

"Okay, we're ready!" they announced in unison.

I looked over my shoulder into the back seat to see two energetic
wunderkind attaching their seatbelts and looking altogether like the most
terrific kids in the world, even if they were a bit "zonked out on wifi
SPS."  And I remembered that I loved them.... and I was pissed at
them.... and I loved them!


"AAAAAAAAAAaaahahhhhhhrrrrrrrrgggggg!"  (My sentiments exactly!)

*****

"Ok, Nicky, These are your size.  Now go back to the fitting rooms and try
them on. Then come back out here. I want to see them on you." And Nicky
headed back to the fitting rooms, where I expected I'd have to go
eventually, knowing these two.

"And, Jilder, I have two pair in your size too.  Go back with Nicky and put
on one pair of these pants.  Then come back out here; so I can inspect
you."  With the boys gone, I turned my attention to several racks of very
nice pull-over shirts.  Some had teen-appropriate graphics and some were
solids.  I think we ought to get 5 for each boy.  That would only be one a
day for 5 days.  Well, it would be a start.  They could pick out what they
liked.

I had no more relaxed with the notion that there was an adequate selection
of the things I wanted most: jeans and shirts, at reasonable prices, and
that this was going to be a peasant and uneventful trip, when there was an
ungodly crash or collapse or SOMETHING back in the fitting rooms.

At that hour of the morning, there were literally no other customers, and
the one sales clerk, a young college-aged fellow, looked directly in my
eyes and we both took off running back to the fitting rooms at the same
time.

There was an assembly of small partitioned areas--maybe 12 of them-- each
with its own full-length mirror, bench seats along one side, a plain
straight-back chair, and louvered doors for privacy. Nicky and Jilder were
the only patrons using the fitting area at the time--thank God!

The boys had chosen to use the same fitting room which was distinguishable
by the closed door.  I got to the door first, flung the door open, and saw
two boys, one with only underwear on and the other with a pair of new jeans
half-on: one leg in and one leg out of the pants.  New jeans in crumpled
lumps in the floor.  The bench had collapsed onto the floor and the chair
was turned over and Jilder was jumping around the debris yelling, "owie,"
"owie," "owie," while Nicky sat in the middle of the debris of the
collapsed bench looking somewhat stunned.

I could give a fuck about the broken bench, I was instantly panic struck
about the boys' retainers.

"Have you hurt your chest, either of you?" I shouted as I stepped into the
midst of the shambles.

"No, Nicky was just standing on the bench putting on his pants and the
thing broke and he slid down the bench onto his butt," Jilder volunteered.

"Then why the fuck is the chair on its side?" I demanded to know.

"It scared me, and I backed up into the chair knocking it over against the
wall, and then I caught myself against the wall," Jilder explained...

"Of course," I thought, "How silly of me.  This sort of thing happens all
the time when one tries on new pants!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry sir," the sales clerk said.

"This should never have happened.  We'll need to fill out an accident
report in case there are medical expenses from any injury.  Please let me
call my supervisor," and the young man disappeared.

Alone, I got very interested in honesty: "Were either of you guys screwin
around, jumping on the bench or the chair?" I asked.

"No, sir," Nicky replied just picking himself up from the floor.

"Are you sure you aren't hurt, Nicky?  We can't take any chances.  We'll
need to go to the hospital for x-rays if you are feeling any pain at
all. Do you guys understand me?"

"Yes. Sir," Nicky said with great respect.

In retrospect, I can say that I believed the boys' story completely.  Yet,
a collapsing bench just doesn't happen everyday...

The clerk returned with a scurrying middle aged woman in the lead.  When
she got to the room the first thing out of her mouth was, "Sir, I'm sooo
sorry that this has happened.  I'm afraid those benches are just not
constructed to hold much weight, and clearly this one collapsed.  Were
either of your boys hurt?  Do we need to call an ambulance?

I looked both boys in the eyes and asked, "Do we, boys?  You know the
seriousness of your hurting yourself with that retainer in your chests.  We
have to be sure, if you feel any discomfort at all."

Both of the boys shook their heads "no." But I turned to the supervisor and
gave her a brief explanation of how these two boys were only a week out of
surgery for a life-threatening condition which has left them with steel
bars in their chests. If these bars have been disturbed IN ANY WAY, there
could be serious and expensive corrective surgery absolutely necessary.

The boys both said that their chests did not hurt; but no matter. "I am
taking the boys directly to their surgeon for an evaluation at this moment.
This is just entirely too serious to leave it without professional
intervention."

"Oh, yes, indeed, sir.  You can stop back later and fill out the details of
the accident report.  We'll just need your name and telephone number and
the boys' names."

I took out my cellphone and began snapping photographs of the entire scene
as well as photographs of a similar fitting room.  "These photographs may
be needed by my attorney, should it be necessary to recover costs for
corrective surgery."

"Oh, My," the supervisor exclaimed as she put her hands to her cheeks.

"I'm so, so, SO sorry, about this sir."

Then she turned to the clerk and said, "When you ring up this gentleman's
sale, take 20% off as a token of our regret and wish to resolve this
situation."

Turning to me, "Please, Sir, come back this evening while I am still on
shift; so that we can complete the paperwork.  You ARE going to the doctor
immediately, aren't you?" she said.

"Yes, mama, and I'll certainly do everything possible to resolve this
situation as quickly as possible."

With that, the boys put on their old clothes and I took the new ones,
without seeing the boys in them.  I wanted to get to Dr. Gilmer's office as
quickly as possible to have him examine these boys...

All I wanted was a few fucking pairs of jeans.  I don't know how we do
it...  just "gifted", I suppose.

*****

Well, fortunately Dr. Gilmer was in his office and he saw the boys
immediately.  After a very brief examination he confirmed that indeed
neither of the boys was any the worse for wear, although they had scared
the shit out of themselves and me too!

Two hours later we returned to Target's, and when we approached the Boys'
Department, we were quickly joined by the young sales assistant, his
supervisor and the store manager.  The store manager was somewhat
circumspect in his approach, but when he learned that the boys were not
hurt, he relaxed and offered me yet another 20% off our selection of 10
long-sleeved shirts.

Aside from the fact the the Dr. Visit cost me $120, getting a 20% discount
from Target on our substantial purchases--twice--left me almost at "a
wash," although not quite...  So the clothes were not entirely "free,"
although very close to it.

But, of course, I'd much rather NOT have such exciting shopping trips-- no
matter that there's a price advantage accrued from causing such a fucking
scene!


*****