a pirates field trip, ray rebmann [i love reading .txt] 📗

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stickers three days later and had to lie to mom about all the scratches on my face.

Today, Huey had added something to his morning menu. Coffee.

She’s letting him drink coffee.

“He’s getting so big. He’s becoming a man.” She said

Yeah right. Huey, a man. Gimme a break.

A full grown ape maybe. But a man?

Whatever mom.

The crying meant only one thing.

He called last night.

And that only means one thing.

He was drunk last night.

Field Trip Pirates --22

The call probably went like this. At first, he wants to come home. Blubbering into the

phone with that lame-o voice he uses when he wants to sell somebody something or he can turn

it on when he wants you to feel sorry for him.

“Please take me back. Gimme another chance. I miss you. I miss my sons. I can’t live

without you. It won’t happen again. I’ve changed. It’ll be different this time. I have a plan. A

sure thing that’ll set things up so none of us ever have to worry again.”

There’s always a plan. A scheme. Some kind of shortcut that will make everything right.

I notice now how everything he says is about “I”, himself.

Mom hangs tough though. So he changes his strategy. Whining doesn’t work so he starts

with the threats.

“I’ll take them back. I can do it you know. You can’t take care of them. They need a

father. Heartless bitch. I’m coming over there and taking what’s mine. You’ll see. It’s all mine.

The car, the kids, the house. And you’ll find yourself out on the street so fast it’ll make your

pretty little head spin.”

More stuff like that with some more nasty words thrown in to add flavor.

You have to hand it to the old man. He knows what buttons to push to get her upset and

get the tears going. Everybody has at least one talent in life. I guess that’s his.

And you gotta give him credit for that come and take it all bit.

Like the house being his. Gimme a break. We’re only living here because grandmom let

us after he screwed up so bad that the bank took our house. That’s why mom has to work the

two jobs. The loan guy came by to see her about setting up a payment plan to maybe get our

house back.

Field Trip Pirates --23

I didn’t like the way the loan guy looked at her like he had something else in mind but

she has to be nice to him because she’s a grown up and grown ups have to pay the mortgage else

they’ll come for us in the middle of the night and throw all our stuff out in the middle of the

street where all the kids can see it on their way to school and we’ll have to go live in a cardboard

box under a highway.

Listen to me. I’m not even eleven years old and an expert on foreclosure. How many

kids my age can even say the word let alone understand what it means. I know more about

foreclosure and bankruptcy than most other kids my age know about baseball and football, even

video games.

That’s because I always listen to all grown-ups. Even grown-ups like my dad. I listened

to everything my dad said. Every worthless word of it. And then I listened to everything

everybody else said to him and that made me realize that he’s a liar.

“They stole everything of mine’ he said. Yeah right.

“But I’ll get it back.” Sure dad sure.

When he first started acting up, mom would call grandmom in Florida and grandmom

would tell her to “hang in there”.

“He’s having a rough time right now.” She’d say from the deck of her condo. “At least

he’s not beating you or the boys.”

I guess that was the line. Good old pop never crossed it. Until that last night when he left

for good.

He was drunker than usual and even though I’m just a kid I was getting pretty good at

telling just how drunk dad was. Slur the words but still try to do stuff drunk. Sweet talk and

Field Trip Pirates -24

smother everybody with his pathetic dad routine drunk. Nasty talking with threats and

beating us down with words drunk.

That last night he was way beyond any of that.

He came home that night and started tossing stuff around. Looking for money that

he swore mom was hiding in the house like she was burying treasure under the

living room rug or in between the rafters up in the attic. I swear to God, he actually moved

furniture to look under the rug. He climbed up in the attic, snaking around up there with a

flashlight looking for the loot.

Then he hit her.

He wasn’t real good at it so it was half punch, half slap. He was trying to hold back at

that point.

Then he saw me. I was watching from the hallway, afraid to say anything and frozen

where I stood. I didn’t even see him come at me. I was still watching that swat at mom, repeating

over and over.

“And YOU!” he shouted. “Sick frightened baby boy gonna cry? Little extra unwanted

mouth to feed gonna get sick cause daddy gave mommy a little love tap? That’s nothing next to

what I’m gonna do to you…you coming along ruined my life.”

He’d remembered how to make a fist when he hit me the first time. The stomach punch

hurt but didn’t break anything. I don’t know what the right to the head did. I was unconscious

after that one connected.

Then off he went. Ran away. Got good and drunk. Stole other people’s money and

gambled it away. He even stole all the money my mom had been saving, took it right out of the

Field Trip Pirates --25

bank.

My dad.

What a pirate.

* * *


Field Trip Pirates --26

Mr. J woke up covered with leaves and Kelly licking his face. And Mrs J standing over

him, frowning. He staggered to his feet and bowed deeply.

He looked around on the ground shuffling through piles of leaves before he found what

he was looking for, then shoved them into his pouch.

“You’ve been at it again.” She said, using her teacher’s voice.

“What would you like for dinner, m’lady?” he asked, kissing her hand

“What am I going to do with you?” she asked now using a voice that was special for just

the two of them.

“Name me a quest that I might go forth and win your heart.” He spouted.

“How about getting that fire started, and warm us up some cocoa, it’s getting chilly out

here.” She answered, taking his hand and holding it close to make sure he was alright.

* * *


Field Trip Pirates --27

Like I said, my dad knows how to push peoples’ buttons.

Like how I blame myself for his leaving. I wasn’t just being a hypersensitive kid

thinking that. My dad had told me I was to blame. Frequently. In those last wonderful fun

filled years when the old man went skidding down hill picking up speed faster and faster until he

crashed at the bottom and vanished.

After pride and joy Huey came into the world and polluted it with his stinkiness, I

came along. The unwanted surprise.

I guess it was okay at first but that didn’t last. Everything was fine as long as dad’s job as

a stock broker went fine and he could play hotshot. Fancy cars and expensive clothes.

Dinners out and vacations.

He always wore real expensive suits. I remember how shiny his shoes were. He never

wore sneakers or boots to work like other kids dads.

And the gold cufflinks and tie pins…he was always real proud of them.

We were proud of him. He used to fly in airplanes a lot too. We’d be outside and a

plane would be flying over head and mom would tell us to look up and wave.

“There goes dad.” She’d say. “Off to work.”

Heigh-ho…like he was one of the seven dwarves or something.”

Then one day he came home acting sort of loopy and said he’d made a “big deal” He was

swaying a little when he showed us all this diamond he had in his ear. He’d gone and gotten his

ear pierced. He looked like a dashing buccaneer, mom said.

“Yeah.” He laughed real wild. “A regular Wall Street marauder.”

Then all of a sudden, he stopped dressing all fancy and talking like Mr. Big Time

Field Trip Pirates --28

Dad’s company had gotten in trouble with the government over some of the investments

it made. People were getting fired. Some went to jail.

I remember how he’d pace for hours, yelling hysterically to whoever would listen,

hoping he wouldn’t lose his job, blaming other people for his problems. Then he started looking

for other ways to “take care of business”, as he always called it. Mom started praying that

he’d stay out of jail. So what’s he do?

He started stealing from some of his clients.

He didn’t call it stealing but even a dumb kid knew what it was. He was taking

what wasn’t his, taking from other people without their permission.

Then he started drinking and gambling with other peoples’ money at the casino. Who

knows what else?

He even stole from grandma, who was one of his smaller clients. He stole his own

mother’s retirement. Way to go dad.

How does an adult explain doing something like that so it comes all right?

He blames someone else. In this case he blames his kid. Not wonderful Huey. Not first

born, chip off the old dad block, apple of the eye, Huey.

Blame the other one, the one who came unannounced and snuck into the family and

ruined everything. Sickly Jason. Not big strong wonderful Huey.

Just picture “Baby Huey” the stupid, humungus duck in those old cartoons that Walt

Disney must have drawn when he was a kid or something and that’s my brother, dad drunk and

slobbering kindness all over him.

“How do I know he’s even mine.” He finally said about me at one point.

Field Trip Pirates --29

That was even lower than stealing from his own mother.

That’s pretty much how dear old dad put it, that last night. All boozed up and smelling as