Free Stay With Me by S.E.Harmon

like he was behind it this very minute. “I’m thinking about getting rid of the whole thing.”
    “You’ve had it for a long time. Since I was like fifteen.”
    “Longer than that, probably. Been thinking about one of those flat screen deals. You have to have a specific type of TV for that HD business, don’t you?”
    “Yes, Dad. You need a TV with HD capability.” I decided to go ahead and attack the table and sprayed a fine film of Pledge across the top.
    “I don’t know how I’d get it out of here, though,” he continued. “This thing is huge.”
    “I think they’ll take the TV out for you if you have another delivered.”
    “Would you go with Best Buy or Walmart?”
    I was silent for a moment, uncharacteristically frustrated. There was no reason to get brand new. This was it between my dad and me. Meaningless conversation and talk of repairing things. When I retired from the force, that had been even one less thing for us to converse about. Sometimes I wished we could have a conversation about something that really mattered. But that just wouldn’t be Joe Williams’s style. He had a simple name for a plain, straightforward guy. And even though he hadn’t exactly enjoyed my “coming out,” he’d still accepted me the best he could.
    I humored him. “You know I love Wally World. You going this weekend? I could give you a hand.”
    Please say no , I prayed.
    “Nah, I’m going fishing with Robby. We’re going down to the Glades and make a day of it. You should come,” he added, almost like an afterthought.
    “I’m good,” I said wryly. The only thing more painful than hanging out with my dad was hanging out with my dad and Robert. Fishing used to be fun before my dad learned I was gay and Robert became a dick. Besides the fact that he insisted on calling me Apple because of my nickname, “Mac.” When my mother had done it, it had been endearing. But my little brother? Oh, man, the annoyance. Pair that nickname with the fruit cracks, and I was just about done.
    “Do you know how long it’s been since all of us got together on the water?”
    “Dear God, not the boat.”
    Dad had gotten the boat from Uncle Brennan, a collector of everything and anything with an engine. Uncle Brennan had lived about an hour away all my life, giving Robert and me plenty of time to hang out in his yard and play with things we shouldn’t. We’d driven the undrivable, everything from forklifts to ATVs, and had nearly given our mother fits worrying over us. If I had a nickel for every bone that Robert and I had broken, I’d be able to retire for real. Uncle Brennan had also been a mechanic, which made hanging out at his garage the ultimate thrill. There was nothing cooler to two little boys than hanging out with an uncle who collected and built racecars. He would be horrified if he could see Bessie.
    “I gave your Uncle Brennan back the boat. You would know that if you called me more often.”
    “You loved that boat.”
    “It was a water hazard. It was rusting straight through. Not the kind of boat you want to take to Alligator Alley.”
    I laughed. “You finally afraid of those alligators, old man?”
    “It’ll take a lot more than a gator to get rid of me, boy.”
    “I don’t doubt it.”
    “So, you busy or what? It would do an old man good to see his boys doing something together.” He paused to let it sink in and then pushed harder. “You know I’m getting on up in age.”
    He may be getting older, but he had still obviously completed the mandatory requirements for Wielding Guilt for Parents 101. I grunted my agreement, and he finally let me off the phone. I swiped at the forgotten Pledge in hard concentric circles, in a better mood but dreading the weekend. God knew I loved my family, but the thought of spending my hard-earned weekend with them was enough to make me scrub the wood off that table.

Chapter 7
     
    I PUSHED my aviators on top of my head and set the tiny pair of binoculars to my eyes.