Page 74 - WTP Vol. VII #6

Returns (continued from page 54)
“You got it.” She looked at Derek and said, “You boys where his father was and this was it, a mostly-empty, can go see the train if you want.” one-bedroom apartment only fifteen minutes from
“I love a good caboose,” his father said, and he shud- dered with laughter as she collected the menus and went away.
their home. For some reason when he thought of his father the backdrop was always a country scene. He imagined acres of rolling farmland and a one-room cabin with a wood-burning stove in the corner. In- stead his father was so close Joel was surprised they hadn’t run into him getting gas at the Turkey Hill or standing in line at the grocery store. He wondered
“Can I go?” Derek said.
“Yeah, go on. Come right back.”
if his dad had been glancing over his shoulder these past few months, and whether, if they did accidental- ly meet up, his father would have ducked out of sight.
When the waitress brought the coffee, his father pulled up his sleeves and tore open packets of sugar three at a time. On his forearm was a tattoo of a fighter plane Joel had never seen. His father noticed him looking and pulled his sleeve higher. “That’s new,” he said.
His father went into the closet and came back with a plane resting on his forearms. It had bright yellow wings and a gray fuselage. The propeller had a nick in one of the blades.
Beneath the plane were the letters M.A.A., for Model Aeronautics Assembly. His father had always been into RC planes. He built them from kits in their basement and had a magazine subscription that still came to the house, but he’d gotten away from it the past few years. There were a couple of disassembled planes on his workbench in the basement, which was off-limits to him and Derek and they avoided even now.
Derek reached for the plane and his father lifted it higher in the air. “Easy with this,” he said. “They break. This is just to look at.”
“Got a couple new planes, too,” his father said. He drained half of his coffee and set the cup down hard on the saucer. “Tell you what, why don’t we stop by my place after breakfast. You can have a look.”
“I guess that’d be okay,” his father said. He went back to the closet and pulled a large plastic radio from
the top shelf. It was heavy. Joel moved the levers and yanked it away when Derek tried to grab for it.
“At your house?”
His father sat on the couch as if he were exhausted. He watched Joel fidget with the radio and rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “You know, there’s another plane in my bedroom,” he said. “It’s not finished yet, but it’s nicer than the one I have here. Why don’t you go have a look.” Joel glanced at the bedroom. “Go on,” his father said and put an arm around Derek’s waist. “Come here, Derek. I’ll show you how this thing works.”
“My apartment,” his father said.
It was strange to hear that his father lived in an apart- ment. The only apartment he’d known was his Nana’s, but that was part of a retirement village.
“You said we could go to the arcade,” Joel said.
Joel opened the bedroom door and found the plane on some milk crates in the corner. It was only par- tially assembled; the motor lay inside the open engine compartment like an exposed heart. He knelt on the floor and turned the prop with his finger, and as he did a rustling sound came from the bed. Hidden beneath a mound of covers was a woman, her long copper hair spilled over the pillow. Joel stood quickly. The woman stretched and made a soft humming noise and was still again.
“We still can,” he said. “Quit your worrying. You sound like your mother.”
After breakfast they drove to the apartment complex, which was only a few blocks away. The hallway smelled of chlorine but Joel didn’t think there was a pool. His father opened the apartment door and held it with one arm for the boys to enter first. Inside was a sectional sofa and a television in the corner. Derek ran inside and jumped face-first onto the cushions.
Back in the living room Derek was leaning against their father’s knee. He had the plane by the backbone and was moving it up and down in the air. His father
Joel stood in the doorway because going inside felt like forgiveness. For two weeks he had wondered
67
He set it on the coffee table and Derek put his face close to peer inside the cockpit.
“Can I see the controls?” Joel said.