“Howdy,
neighbor. How, the hell, are ya.’ Swear to God, I’s just
talking to the wife ‘bout you and Casey. Ain’t seen much of
you two lately. I asked her to call and invite ya’ll to dinner
one night soon.”
“Love to,
Spence. Name it and we’ll be there. I got something I need
to talk over with you anyway.”
“Yeah, what’s
‘zat, brother?”
“Spence, I
know’d ju’ been retired for a while and don’t do much doctor’n no more,
but I got me a problem with my boy I thought you might give me a hand
with, if’n I’s to ask ya’ real nice.”
“What the hell
you talk’n ‘bout, Vince,— ask’n me real nice? All you done for
us, the best damn neighbor we got, I don’t think so, bubba! I’d
be pleased as hell to do anything I can to help. Wrap that up and
put a big, pretty bow on it, brother!” Spence roared with
laugher. “What can I do for ya’?”
“Well,— as you
know, we lost his momma ‘bout six months ago. I can’t thank you
and Donna enough for your support and kindness to us. Ever’ damn
time we turned around she’s left something wonderful for us on the
table in the front hallway. We shore’ nuff love ya’ll for it,
too.”
“You and Frances
would a’ done the same for us, Vince. So, what’s the problem with
your boy?”
“I don’t need to
tell you it’s been hard on both of us, but the other night Casey come
to me in the middle of the night all worried like. Asked if he
could sleep with me ‘cause he was afraid of what his body was doing to
him. Said he wakes up in the morning and his pillow and sheets
around his head are soaking wet. He didn’t wanna’ worry me none
with it. Knowing him like I do, he was try’n to be strong
for me. He told me, at first, he was worried he might be wetting
the bed, but he seemed doubtful ‘cause he said it was never wet around
his waist.
I didn’t know
about it ‘cause he never said nothing and would get up in the mornings,
strip his bed, throw every thing in the wash, dry it and make his bed
in the evenings. He told me it was happening more and more often,
and he was getting tired of having to change his bed every other night
or so. I went to his bedroom the next morning and helped him with
his bed, and Spence, the boy weren’t kidding. I mean his bed and
pillows was soaked, but it weren’t a yellow stain like piss would make.”
“How many nights
he been sleeping with you, now, Vince.?”
“Last night was
the third night and it ain’t happened since he’s been sleeping with
me.”
Vince heard
Spencer chuckle.
“I think I know
what’s wrong with him. Can ya’ll come for dinner this evening?”
“Sure, what
time?”
“What time
should Vince and Casey be here for dinner this evening, honey?”
Spence yelled to his wife. “Okay, thanks!” He hollered back.
“Six-thirty all
right?”
“We’ll be
there. Thanks, Spence.”
“That’s what
neighbors are for, brother.”
My dad hung up
the phone and hollered to me to get cleaned up, put on a clean pair of
Wranglers, my best boots and hat, we were going to the Winchester’s for
dinner. Great! I loved Donna Winchester’s cooking. I
also thought Spencer Winchester was one of the hottest older men I ever
met. I suspected my dad did, too. They were all the time
going off to talk by themselves with their arms around one
another. They’d talk real serious-like to each other then slap
each other on the back and roar with laugher. They seemed to
really enjoy each others’ company.
“You ready,
honcho?” Dad hollered up the stairs to me.
“On my way, Dad.”
I finished
checking myself out in my full length mirror and adjusted my hat just
the way I like it. I switched off the light and walked to the
head of the stairs and stopped. I looked down at my dad standing
there looking up at me smiling,— and I couldn’t move. My throat
swelled and I couldn’t breathe or swallow. The sight of him
standing there at the bottom of the stairs, fully dressed in his
western cloths and hat, with his big, full, dark, bushy moustache took
my breath away. He had on his best pair of legs with an expensive
pair of cowboy boots mom bought him for his Birthday the year before
she died.
‘Oh, God!’
I prayed, ‘Please don’t let him see how foolishly attracted to
him I am. Please, don’t let me get a hard-on walking down the
stairs. You can do this, Casey! You’ve walked down these
stairs a thousand times. One boot in front of another is all you
have to remember. Act natural and he won’t notice anything
unusual.’
“Stop!”
Dad held up his hand to me and looked up. “Stay right there, Son!”
It wasn’t like
an order, but I couldn’t figure out what he was doing. He looked
up at me, and I thought I was doomed. Did he see my erection
growing in my Wranglers? Oh, gees,—
“Son of a
bitch!” He said softly to himself.
I thought I
could see tears forming in his eyes. He looked down, shook his
head, then looked up again to speak to me.
“I’m sorry,
Case,— I just realized my boy is no longer a boy. He’s growing
up. He’s growing up to be a fine young man and one damn fine,
good looking cowboy. Son, you look so much like your Uncle Seth
it almost stopped my heart when I saw you standing there. I just
wanted to remember him and you for a moment. Somehow,— it was
like seeing the two of you together in one body. Come!”
He held out his
arms to me, and I ain’t real sure how many steps I took to get to him;
however, I can only remember three. He held me for a long while
and shed a couple of tears. I couldn’t help myself because I knew
how he felt about his baby brother. I felt like I knew Uncle Seth
from his letter dad gave me. I knew I would've loved him every
bit as much as my dad did.
“You look
handsome, Dad. Smell pert-damn good, too.” We shared
a laugh.
“ Handsome
enough to cause that boner in your Wranglers?”
“Daaaaad!”
I pulled away from him turning beet red. “You weren’t suppose to
see that.” I chuckled.
“Too late,
honcho,— busted!” he roared with laughter, threw his arm around
me and we headed for the door.
During the
summer in California, six o’clock is sort of just a little past
mid-afternoon. There’s still a lot of light out, and it doesn’t
start to get dark until about eight-thirty or nine. It seemed
like everyone was out and about going somewhere. We stopped in a
small stop-and-go mart to buy a bottle of wine to take to the
Winchester’s. We were in dad’s big four-wheel’n Bronco.
It’s a gas guzzler, but he loves it. He looks hot driving it.
I don’t care
where we go around our small town, men, women and even kids cruise him
shamelessly. He knows he’s damn good looking, too, and will look
to see if I caught this man or that woman checking him out. He’ll
wink at me, I’ll chuckle and turn beet red. I get so embarrassed
sometimes, I want to yell at them,
“Hey, mister,—
hey lady,— what, the fuck, you look’n at? The man you think’s so
hot is my dad. What? Are you blind? Can’t chu’
see he’s got a kid? I know he’s hot! He looks like sex on a
bun. Prime, grade-A, matured, cowboy beef on the hoof. So,
fuck’n what? Eat your hungry, sex starved hearts out,— he’s mine,
you son’s of bitches!”
I told him the
other day I was going to stop going anywhere with him, because he
embarrasses the shit out of me; all them people bumping into things and
stepping on each other ‘cause they can’t take their damn eyes off
him. He just roared with laughter. He knows I’m right, but
he argues anyway.
“You really
don’t know, do you?” he asked pointing an accusing finger at me.
“Know
what? What’s to know? My dad’s a walking ad for sex?
I should wear a sandwich board that reads: 'For a good hot time with my
dad the sex machine, dial this number, ask for Casey.'” Dad
roared with laughter at me. “Listen, Dad, I’ve seen week old cow
patties what didn’t collect as many flies as you get looks when we go
out together.” I pointed my finger at him and laughed. He
roared with laughter again, grabbed me, and got me in a neck
lock. He leaned in close to my ear.
“H’it ain’t me
they be look’n at, honcho. ‘Bout time you done woke up to the
fact.” he spoke directly into my ear in a low voice.
What was he
trying to tell me? Naw,— I ain’t buy’n ‘nat! He’s try’n to
put it all on me? I don’t think so. Hell, I’m only a
fourteen year old kid. I got me a pretty good dick on me, but
hell, I ain’t no-where’s near the stud my old man is.
“Ain’t blow’n no
smoke up yer’ ass, neither, buckwheat. It be you they be looking
at,— not me!”
“Ahw, dad,— I
don’t mean no disrespect, but chore’ full of it.” I said
disgustedly, waving him away with my hand. He just hooted and
continued to point his finger at me.
Dad bought a
nice bottle of wine, and we headed back to the truck. On the way,
two ladies collided their shopping carts because they were looking at
dad instead of paying attention to what they were doing. Their
carts turned over and everything was going all over the place. I
was running down oranges and onions and dad was helping them with their
carts. They were all a’ twitter at dad and me helping them, but I
couldn’t help notice them staring at me. Dad saw me start to
blush and only made matters worse when he smiled, raised an eyebrow and
winked at me, like, ‘See, I done told ju’ so?’
“Young
man,” one of the women said to me. “I don’t mean to
embarrass you by staring, but you have the most unusually, beautiful
eyes I’ve ever seen on a man.” The other woman agreed with
her. I just continued to get more red.
“Casey,—
?” Dad spoke softly to me, which, freely translated from the
‘mother tongue’ means, ‘Don’t forget your manners, Son.’
“Why, thank ya,’
ma’am.” I poured it on, “My great aunt was Lillie Langtry
and violet eyes runs in our family.”
“Lillie
Langtry,— why, I do declare. I remember her. She did have
lovely violet eyes.”
“I remember her,
too, and you’re right, she did have lovely dark violet eyes.”
said the other lady and added. “Thank you, young man, and your
brother, too, for helping us.”
“You’re welcome,
ma’am, but he — .”
“My little
brother and I were glad to help, ladies.” Dad cut me off in
mid-sentence.
I giggled at my
dad, thinking to myself he’s so full of it. He is, after all,
only seventeen years older than me. I suppose we might pass for
brothers. On the way back to the truck he was about to burst at
the seams from held back laughter. We climbed into the Bronco and
fell together laughing.
“See,
honcho? I done told ju’ it weren’t chore’ dear old pa what them
folks been a’ look’n at.”
“You’re
right,” I smiled sweetly at him, “they be gawking at my big
brother.”
That’s all it
took for another round of uncontrolled laughter. For all our
bullshit, me and my dad knew how to have a good time with each other. * * * * * * *
We arrived at
the Winchester’s ranch and Spencer Winchester bounded down the front
steps in his big cowboy boots. I always liked to be around Mr.
Winchester. He was a huge man and made big clomping sounds with
his boots when he walked. I was practicing at home teaching
myself how to do that. I thought that was the way a real man
should sound when he walks in his boots.
Mr. Winchester
was also a physical man. He had lots of hugs, and kisses for
everyone. Men were no more exempt from his affections than
women. He grabbed dad’s hand in both his big ham hocks, and
pumped it to welcome him. I could see in his eyes that wasn’t
good enough. He just had to hold my dad in his arms. He
proceeded to give dad a bear hug and a big kiss on his cheek. Dad
didn’t hold back and returned his affections. I thought for a
minute I saw a tear run down my dad’s cheek.
Mr. Winchester
held his arms open for me.
“Casey!
Damn,— it’s good to see you, Son. Gimme’ a big ole hug and a
kiss, boy.” I was in the arms of the biggest man in the county
and loving every minute of it. He planted a big one on my cheek,
and I returned his.
“Howdy, Mr.
Winchester. It’s really good to see you again, Sir.”
“Ya’ll come on
in.” He ushered us in the front door. “Lemme’ take yore’
hats, gentlemen.”
We’d already
taken our hats off when we went through the door. My dad taught
me that was the polite, respectful and mannerly thing to do when
entering someone’s home. We handed him our hats and he sat them
on a table near the entry way. I handed Mr. Winchester the bottle
of wine we brought, he smiled real big, nodded his approval
and thanked us.
“Vince!
Casey!” Donna Winchester hollered as she wiped her hands on a
dishtowel. She threw it aside and walked into my Dad’s open
arms. They hugged and kissed. Then it was my turn.
“Casey, Casey,—
jes’ look at you! My,— how you’ve grown. Spence,— our young
friend here, is no longer a boy. He’s grown so much since we last
saw him a month ago, he’s become a young man. The bigger you get,
Casey, the more handsome you become. With those eyes of yours,—
why, you’re gonna’ have your pick of the girls.” Dad winked
at me.
“Thanks, Mrs.
Winchester, me’n dad sure appreciate ya’ll inviting us over for dinner.”
“Well, you’re
welcome. It’s been too long, but I promise we won’t wait so long
before having you over again.”
“How long before
dinner, hon?” Spence asked his wife.
“About half an
hour. I’ll holler at cha’ll.” Mrs. Winchester winked at her
husband.
“Good!
Vince, would you like to go into my study where we can talk?”
“That would be
nice, Spence.”
Dad looked at
me, and I knew he didn’t want me to join them.
“If it’s all
right with you, Dad, I think I’ll stay here and see if I can give Mrs.
Winchester a hand.”
“Well, that’s
real sweet of you, Casey. I’d enjoy your company. Haven’t
had much of a chance to talk with you one on one in a long time.” said
Donna Winchester.
I stayed and did
a few minor things for Mrs. Winchester and helped her set the table
while we talked. Dad followed Mr. Winchester to his study.
Mr. Winchester closed the door behind them and poured himself a drink.
“Scotch, Vince?”
“Naw, Sir, Mr.
Winchester. I don’t drink much. Might have a glass of wine
with dinner. I ain’t a teetotaler or nothing. I just never
developed a taste for alcohol.”
“Can I get you
something else?”
“Naw, Sir.
I’m fine.”
Spencer
Winchester sat down in his large swivel chair behind his huge oak desk
and sat his drink on a coaster. He looked at his neighbor and
smiled.
“Vince, I think
your boy has a minor problem that can be easily fixed. As you
know, my practice was in family medicine, but I’ve had an extensive
background in psychiatric medicine as well. Did Casey mention
anything about crying himself to sleep sometimes?”
“Yes, Sir, he
did. In fact, I told him I done it more’n a few times myself.”
“But, he didn’t
connect his crying himself to sleep with his wet pillow and
bedding?” Spence mused.
“No, Sir.
He didn’t seem to think the two were related.”
“Well, it is and
it isn’t. Don’t mean that to sound like a riddle; however, I
suspect what’s happening to Casey is while he’s crying himself to sleep
he’s also aware of stopping his crying to actually go to sleep.
That’s normal. I think you can relate to that yourself. You
know you have to stop grieving or crying to get to sleep.”
“Yes, Sir.
Crying yourself to sleep ain’t really what happens. You become so
exhausted from crying, you go from crying, to sleep.”
“Humm, couldn’t
have put it better myself. You been reading up on this?”
Spence smiled and raised an eyebrow at Vince.
“When yore’
boy’s hurt’n, Mr. Winchester, you look for answers.”
“What do you
think’s happening to him, Vince?”
“He’s entering a
deep unconscious form of sleep where he’s grieving his little heart out
and not aware of it.”
“Damn,
Son! That’s exactly what he’s doing. It’s part of the
mind’s way of working out his grief. If he’s been suppressing his
need to grieve for some reason, his subconscious is going to find a
way. Come hell or highwater, it will find a way.”
“I know him like
the back of my hand, Spence. He can be as stubborn as a mule when
he gets his head set about something. He mentioned to me he
didn’t wanna’ bother me about all this because he wanted to be strong
for me. I don’t think he would’ve come to me unless he really
began to be afraid. He and I are so damn much alike, I can’t hide
nothing from him. Don’t know’s I want to. Ain’t never had
another relationship in my life like I have with my boy. It’s
open, honest and we ain’t afraid to love each other, neither.
He’s seen how
hard it’s been on me since Frances passed away and he’s done everything
in his power to be a good boy and help me out every way he can. I
just think he may be trying to be too grown up too quick. I don’t
want him growing up faster than he should, Spence. I’m so damn
afraid I’ll turn around twice, he’ll be all grown up and gone.”
“I can relate to
that. You have a unique relationship with Casey I wish all men
had with their sons. The world would be a much better
place. I think we’ve found the reason behind his problem.
Basically, he’s sublimating his need to grieve for his mother by being
strong for you. He’s taking on the role of parent to
you. He doesn’t want you to see him grieve because he wants you
to be able to grieve without worrying about him. He hopes by
doing that, you’ll grieve for both of you. He’s trying to be the
strong son his dad can lean on. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work
that way.
Let me talk with
him after dinner. With your permission, I’m going to try
something. I want to hypnotize him and give him a suggestion that
the next time he goes to his secret place to grieve and cry for his
mother, he’ll remember my suggestion, wake up and come to you for
comfort. I’ll let him know you understand and you'll help
him. Then, your job is to let him run with it. Let him
grieve if you have to hold him all night to let him get it out.
If he wants to talk about it, talk to him as long as it takes.
Just let him know you’re there, and you aren’t going away like his
mother did.”
“Mr.
Winchester,— there’s one other thing I didn’t tell you about.”
“What’s that,
Son?”
“Well,— it’s
kinda embarrassing,— not for me,— hell, it don’t bother me none,— but
for Casey.”
“Humm,— I have
an idea, but I wanna’ hear it from you. Whatever you tell me
won’t be shared with Casey unless you want me to.”
“The night he
came to me he didn’t just wake me to tell me about his problem.”
“You woke up to
find him looking at you or playing with himself.”
“Yes, Sir,—
both.”
Spence smiled
and winked at my dad.
“What’s wrong
with that? If I was a fourteen year old kid, had a dad like you,
came into your bedroom and found you laying there asleep in the
altogether,— I’d sure as hell wanna’ play with myself.” Spence
chuckled, “Hell,— I’m sixty-two and I’d still wanna’ do it.”
Spence threw back his head and roared with laughter at the look on his
friend’s face.
“Thanks for
that, Spence. There ain’t a’ thing wrong with him or you either
for that matter.” Dad chuckled winking at the big man.
“Casey ran from the room, crying from embarrassment. I whistled
for him and he knows to come to me when I do because, I may need him in
an emergency situation. I held him tight and told him he paid his
old man a great compliment by admiring him while he was pleasuring
himself. I also told him never be embarrassed by his feeling.”
“Damn,
Vince! Wanna’ be my daddy, Son?” The two men shared another
laugh. “That’s exactly what you should’ve told him. Good
for you. I think you know you did the right thing, but I have a
feeling there’s something more,— right?”
“Spence,— what
if my boy wants to share physical love with me?”
“You have a
problem with that?”
“No, none;
however, he’s s’damn young.”
“Yes, he is, but
I know you. You ain’t gonna’ let him go further than you think is
right for him at his age. There’s a lot of research been done
about sexuality and when it forms in humans. No one’s really sure
what causes one person to develop one way and someone else,
another. There’s a lot of talk about genetics and a lot of
research is leaning in that direction; however, it’s a pretty well
accepted fact sexual preferences or tendencies develop somewhere
between the ages of three and five. I’m saying if Casey wants to
share some intimacy with you, use your own best judgement.
Knowing the two of you like I do and how close you are,— it just might
be the best damn thing for both of you right now. I don’t think
I’d get into anything where physical size would be questionable.”
“No, I don’t
plan to let it go that far if anything does happen. You know me
well enough to know I’d never initiate anything. It will have to
be his choice. He’s too damn young to make a decision like that
for himself; so, I accept the responsibility to make it for him, and my
decision would be not until he’s at least eighteen. That don’t
mean I’d reject him for other intimate things if he needs it.”
“Sure glad that
boy has you for a dad, Vince. In a way I envy Casey. Wish my old
man had been more understanding.”
“Yeah, Spence,
mine, too.”
* * * * * * *
Donna Winchester
was a wonderful cook. Her meals were not just filling, they
tasted damn good, too. She wasn’t a fancy cook, but her mother
taught her well. You’d think for a woman who loved to cook as
much as Mrs. Winchester, she would be overweight,— not Donna
Winchester. She kept herself trim and attractive well into her
later years. She and Spencer were like two teenagers with their
affections for each other. I could see in my dad’s eyes he was
happy for them, but I also could see he felt his loss even deeper from
observing their joy in each other. That’s when he would turn to
me, grab my hand under the table and gently squeeze it. He didn’t
have to say anything, I knew.
After dinner I
helped Mrs. Winchester clear the table while dad and Mr. Winchester
talked quietly. After we sat back down to join them Mr.
Winchester looked at me.
“How ‘bout
joining me in my study for a few minutes, Casey?”
“Sure, Mr.
Winchester.” I glanced at dad and he nodded his okay.
He led me down
the hall to his study and motioned for me to enter. He closed the
door behind us. I was never in his study before and was taken by
his memorabilia of his life placed around like holy icons at the
crossroads of his life. One wall held nothing but diplomas from
various medical schools. He motioned for me to have a seat in one
of his large, comfortable leather chairs.
“Your dad asked
me to talk with you, Son, about some problems you been having.
Now,— your dad is one, pretty smart hombre. He told me what he
thought was going on with you, and he was exactly right; but, he wanted
my opinion.”
“So what’s wrong
with me, Mr. Winchester?”
“Well, there
really ain’t nothing wrong with your body. It’s doing what it’s
suppose to; however, you’re having some problems in your head.”
“Ya’ think I’m
crazy, Doc?”
Mr. Winchester
threw back his head and roared with laughter.
“No, Casey, not
at all. You’re as normal as they come. To explain better
let me ask you a couple of questions. I know its been hard for
you and your dad since you lost your mom.”
“Yes, Sir, it
has.”
“How do you feel
about it now?”
“Sometimes, I
miss her something awful, Mr. Winchester. I told dad, I cry
myself to sleep many nights. He told me he does, too. We
ain’t talked much about it ‘cause I think we’re afraid to. I
think we both wanna’ be strong for the other so we just don’t talk
about it. I know it’s as hard for him as it is for me, but— .”
“But, you don’t
wanna’ bother him and make it any harder for him.”
“Yes, Sir.
I wouldn’t a’ told him about any of this if I hadn’t gotten kinda
scared from waking up with my pillow and bed sheets soaking wet.”
“Well, I’ll tell
you why it’s happening. There’s a deep sleep we sometime go into
during the night where we work out our problems we can’t seem to deal
with when we’re awake. You’re trying to control your grieving for
you mom so you won’t upset your dad, but your subconscious mind is
telling you, “Hey, Casey,— you ain’t grieving for your mom like
you should, so I’m gonna’ take care of it for you.”
“I don’t know,
Mr. Winchester, I sometimes break down and bawl my heart out at the
least little thing that reminds me of my ma.”
“Yeah, but chu’
been doing it by yourself, right?”
“Yes, Sir.
You saying dad and I should be sharing our grief?”
“I don’t know
how many times I’ve told your dad, you’re a sharp kid, Casey.
That’s exactly right, Son. Now,— have you ever been hypnotized?”
“Naw, Sir.
You mean like when they make people think they’s a chicken?”
“Yes,— that’s a
form of it, but that’s not what a doctor would do; unless, he has a
slow day, is bored out of his skull, and figures he can use the eggs.”
Mr. Winchester
looked at me seriously, then grinned from ear to ear. I though
for a moment about what he said, then realized he was blow’n smoke up
my butt. I fell over in the chair laughing. He started
laughing at me. “Tell, ya’ what
I’m gonna’ do. I have your dad’s permission to hypnotize you and
give you a couple of suggestion that will help you. You won’t
remember what I’ve told you, but when you wake up you’ll feel
great. Now, close your eyes and listen to my voice.”
“How do you
feel, Son?”
“Okay,
Sir. No, not just okay. I feel great. When you gonna’
hypnotize me, Sir?”
“I already did,
Casey.”
“Meaning no
disrespect, Sir, but I don’t think you did.”
“I told you, you
wouldn’t remember. Trust me, Son, I did.”
I didn’t believe
him, but he was up and about, ready to take me back to my dad.
“Can I get you
another piece of cake and some milk, Casey?” Mrs. Winchester asked when
we returned to the kitchen.
“I’d sure
appreciate that, Mrs. Winchester. That was darn good cake we had
for dessert, ma’am.”
“Glad you liked
it, Casey. I’ll get you another piece and give you a couple of
pieces to take home with you.”
“Can I see you
in my office for a minute, Vince.”
Dad followed Mr.
Winchester to his office again.
“Okay, I put two
suggestions in his head. To make sure their active I told him
about halfway home on Ball Road to ask you to pull over to the side and
stop the truck for a minute, he has something he wants to tell
you. Pull over and he should throw his arms around your neck and
whisper to you he loves you. You be damn sure you hold him tight,
tell him how much you love him, and don’t let him go until you’re sure
he understands you love him and won’t ever leave him.
After you get
home and decide to go to bed, make sure he’s sleeping with you.
You don’t need to stay awake, ‘cause when his subconscious starts
unloading, believe you me, you’ll wake up muy pronto. Don’t try
to wake him. He’ll come around on his own. That’s the
second suggestion I gave him. When he does, be prepared for the
second Johnstown flood. Hold him, comfort him, tell him again how
much you love him, what he means to you, and you will never leave him.
If you can, get
him to talk with you about how he feels. Then I want the two of
you to start sharing more with each other about how you feel; every
day; maybe, in the evening before you go to bed. Oh, and by the
way, I told him he wouldn’t remember any of what I told him. He’s
convinced I didn’t hypnotize him. He may tell you I said I was
gonna’ hypnotize him, but I didn’t. When he has you stop the
truck on Ball Road, you’ll know. Then gimme’ a call when you get
home to let me know if he did what I told him. Then we’ll know
the other suggestion is set to work, too.”
Spence stuck out
his big hand to my dad. Dad took his hand and pulled him into a
hug. He held Spence a few minutes and shed a couple of
tears. Mr. Winchester comforted him.
“Any time you
need a daddy, Spence, I’m available.” He kissed Mr. Winchester on
the cheek, and Spence returned it trying not to fall out with laughter.
“Listen,
neighbor,— as much as I love you and as wonderful a sentiment as that
is,— you got more’n enough on you hands with that young cowboy.
He’s one of the brightest kids I ever met, and I can tell you one
thing,— he worships the ground you walk on. You can’t know how
much Donna and I love the two of you. We’ll have you over again
this weekend. I want a full report, Son. I wanna’ hear how
it goes. I think after tonight you two will have a little
smoother go of it, but you can’t cut him out of your grieving and you
can’t allow him to cut you out of his,— understand? It’s
important!”
“I understand,
Spence, and thanks again.”
“That’s what
neighbor’s are for, Vince.”
We said our
goodbyes to the Winchesters and carried several containers of food with
us out to the truck. Donna Winchester gave us several care
packages. Dad and I were glad to have them. It meant one
less dinner we had to scrape together. We weren’t real great
cooks, but we were getting better. We left and dad turned onto
Ball Road, the main road to our place. It’s mostly a farm access
road, and very few travel on it, especially this time of night.
“What did you
and Spence talk about, honcho?”
“Not much.
He told me we had to start sharing our feelings about mom. Said
he was gonna’ hypnotize me, but I don’t think he did.”
“Yeah, he told
me the same thing about sharing our feelings. Guess he’s right,
Case. He’s a doctor, you know?”
“Yes, Sir.
I seen all his medical degrees on the wall in his office. He
must’ve gone to school all his life to get that many.”
Dad
laughed, “I wouldn’t be surprised.”
We got about
halfway home and something came over me. I don’t know what
happened. I looked over at dad, and suddenly I had an
uncontrollable urge to tell my dad I loved him. I don’t know why,
but I knew at that very moment, at that place in time, I had an
uncontrollable urge to tell him. I felt like I would burst inside
if I didn’t. It was very important to me.
“What’s a’
matter, Case? You look like you seen a ghost.”
“Dad would you
mind pulling the Bronco over for a minute?”
“You gonna’ be
sick, Son?” Dad asked as he slowed and pulled the Bronco over to
the shoulder of the road. I watched as he put the truck in park
and turned off the ignition. We sat there in the dark for a few
minutes. I couldn’t hold back a moment longer.
“Oh, Daddy,—
.” I softly cried out to him as I got upon my knees and threw my
arms around his neck and held him tight. “I love you so much,
Dad.” I spoke quietly to him. Dad sort of chuckled to
himself.
“Damn!
What an unexpected treat! I never get tired of hearing my boy
tell me he loves me. Com’on, cowboy,— one more time,—
lemme’ hear it again.” he teased softly.
“I do! I
do love you, Dad! I love you so damn much.”
That started my
waterworks. Dad surprised me, he started crying, too.
“I love you,
too, Case, more’n stars in the sky,— more’n sand in the desert,— more’n
all the fleas on all the hound dogs in the world.”
“Damn, Dad,
that’s a lot!” I started laughing through my tears at his
colorful analogy. “You sure you love me that much?”
“Ever’
bit! And, I don’t ever want you to be afraid. I ain’t never
gonna’ leave you, honcho. Yore’ daddy is gonna’ be right here for
you,— understand?”
I couldn’t
speak, but I nodded my head I understood him. I don’t know what
happened, but his words hit something deep inside me that made me cry
even harder. The thought of my dad leaving me was too much for me
to even contemplate. He let me get it out until I got myself
together.
“You promise,
Dad?”
“With all my
heart, cowboy.”
I sat back in my
seat, dad started the Bronco and we drove on. He gently reached
over and took my smaller hand in his and held it the rest of the way
home. He didn’t have to say more, I knew in my heart everything
was going to be all right.
* * * * * * *
“Spence?
Can’t thank you enough, partner. The Eagle has landed.” Dad heard
a big, booming, bass voice laughing on the other end.
“Glad to hear
it, Son. Well, now you know, he’s locked and loaded for the
second suggestion. You have any problems or think you’re in over
your head,— you gimme’ a call immediately,— ya’ hear?”
“Thanks, Spence,
I will, but I have a feeling things are gonna’ be just fine.”
“I do, too,
Vince. It was great to have ya’ll over and see you again.
I’ll have Donna give you a call the end of the week to have ya’ll over
this weekend. Best of luck, Son.”
“That’ll be
great. Casey can’t do nothing but rave ‘bout Donna’s
cooking. Thanks, Spence, you’re a good neighbor,— the best!
Goodnight.”
* * * * * * *
I don’t remember
a lot about the rest of that night; however, dad’s told me the story
many times. He was so amazed how everything happened just the way
Mr. Winchester told him it would. Dad told me he woke up with the
entire bed shaking like we were having a small California quake.
He looked over and saw me in convulsions. He said he’d never seen
anything like it before in his life. I was heaving, shaking and
expelling water from my mouth as well as my eyes. Dad said, the
weirdest damn thing about it was, I didn’t seem to be crying like a
person normally would. He described it more like a seizure an
epileptic might have. He said it scared him out of his
wits. He wanted to wake me, but remembered what Mr. Winchester
told him.
I do remember
waking up when I almost choked on my own fluids. I remember a
voice calling me from the darkness of my despair. I was drowning
in a deep, dark pool of heavy, liquid sorrow. It was like my soul
was wringing itself out while trying to swim through or gain footing in
black-strap molasses. There seemed to be no way out and the more
I struggled, the more I seemed to be drowning in this pit of
emptiness. As far as I could see there was no way out other than
to follow a voice that was sweetly calling to me; calling my name,
“Casey,— Casey,— .” And then,— I saw her.
It was my mother
standing on a shore in long, flowing white dress, holding her arms open
for me to come to her. She looked radiantly beautiful with her
soft pale skin, her light blue eyes, and long blond hair falling about
her face and shoulders. There was a soft glow about her like a
light was shining behind her and radiating out from her.
Suddenly, I became free of the weight of the pool and physically flew
to her waiting arms like they were a giant soul magnet. She held
me in her arms kissing me and telling me how wonderful it was to see
and touch me again.
I cried in her
arms, kissed her, told her how much I loved her and how much I
missed her. I told her how much dad missed her, and I was worried
about him. I could actually smell and feel her all around
me. I could feel her joy within me as well. She filled my
empty heart, my soul, my being with her unconditional love. I
heaved more, I felt my body shaking and wracked with the pain of my
loss. I could feel her loss, not just for me, but for my
dad as well, and I cried my guts out.
“Casey,— I love
you so much, but you must go to your father. You must give him
all your love, now. It’s important, Son. He loves you so
much. He’s waiting for you, and he needs you.”
“I can’t leave
you here, Mom,— in this dark place.”
“Casey, you
must. You have to,— not only for your dad, but for me. I
can’t leave this place until you let me go. You’re keeping me
here, Darling. You’re keeping me here in this place you come to
night after night. I can’t go to the light until you set me free,
Casey. You have to live for your dad now, sweet heart. He
needs you more than you know. He won’t begin to let me go,
either, until he’s sure you’re all right. I can’t leave this
place until you both let me go. You must help him, Casey.”
She kept telling
me to go to my father. It was important. He was waiting for
me. I didn’t want to leave her. I never wanted her to leave
me. She told me I had to. I had to for her. She told
me she had to say goodbye, and I must say goodbye to her; but, she
would always love me. She told me dad wouldn’t let her go until I
did. I must let her go and live for my dad. She kissed me
and asked me to let her go, to tell her, goodbye. Dad said he
heard me say though my sobbing,
“Mom, I can’t
tell you goodbye, I love you too much.” Dad said he waited,
listened, and finally I said, “Okay, I understand. I don’t
want to, but for you, I will. Goodbye, Mom,— I’ll always love
you.”
Dad told me I
woke up and in one quick movement I was in his arms, awake, crying my
heart out, telling him about seeing mom and telling her goodbye.
I remember my dad crying as hard or harder than I was at that
point. We were a mess, but a good mess. Dad’s bed was
soaking wet. I apologized to him over and over, but he just
laughed at me.
“Oh, God!
It was worth it, Case. We can change the damn sheets, Son;
however, I don’t think we’re gonna’ have that problem anymore after
tonight.”
“I don’t think
so either, Dad.” I agreed with him, “I don’t know why I
feel that way, but I do. I ain’t afraid no more, Dad.”
“Neither am I,
cowboy,— neither am I.”
We held each
other for the longest time. Then, we got up, changed the sheets
and got two clean, dry pillows from my bed. It was about five in
the morning before we finally got settled into bed again. We were
laying there, together, buck-ass naked, and my dad was holding me
tight. I had both my arms thrown around him, too. We were
exhausted. He was stealing a kiss or two. As we were laying
there, drifting in and out of fitful sleep, I felt his big dick growing
hard against my stomach. He stopped dead still for a few seconds
and I did, too. It was a pregnant moment. Neither one of us
wanted to breathe or move. Finally, my warped sense of humor got
the better of me.
“Bussss-ted!”
I spoke mockingly to him. Then, we both fell out laughing.
At that moment, a laugh was exactly what we needed. We talked
more and decided Spencer Winchester was a wise and wonderful man.
I told dad I found him easy to look at. He didn’t elaborate, but
quietly agreed as he let out a big sigh.
That night
launched a new era in our relationship. Mom was right. Dad
was waiting for me to come to him, and he didn’t really start to heal
or let mom go until he was sure I’d be all right. I said my
goodbyes, I set her free, and I knew in my heart I would never return
to that awful place; didn’t mean I wouldn’t ever shed another tear for
my mom and did many times; however, I was over the hump; the worst part
of my grieving was behind me. I now knew how to grieve, to allow
myself to grieve without being embarrassed I wasn’t being strong, and
how important it was not to deny myself the right to grieve. It’s
all part of the greater human process of living. It’s neither
life’s way of casting love aside nor forgetting those we’ve loved, but
storing love away, to make room in our fragile hearts for new
love. The more love stored away in your heart, the bigger it
grows, and the greater your capacity for love becomes.
Mr. Winchester
told me to tell myself every time I started to feel down and missed my
mother, ‘I lost my mom, I damn well have a right to feel sad
about that! And, as bad as it may seem at the time, always
remember, he who has never known the pain of grief, has never
truly loved.’ God and my mom know I loved her; however, I love my
dad, too. I had to store away my love for mom to help my dad let
go. Now I could and would be strong for him. I could show
my dad the way. That night, by wanting to help my dad, being
there for him, knowing he needed me, I realized for the first time, I
was growing up. I would be okay.
End Chapter 3 ~
Texas Longhorns Copyright 2005 ~
Waddie Greywolf All rights
reserved
~
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