Dan London
Goldfish Pond In a Bricked-In Garden
I stood in the middle of the kitchen. My step-mother sat in the dining
room. My dad stood at the far end of the kitchen. I was between them
both. It was usually my dad that was between us. I didn't want that. It
was her. She made it like that. She pulled and pulled on him. Made him
feel like there was a battle for his time. I didn't want that. I just
wanted him to be there when I played hockey. He always had been there.
If he wasn't coaching me. He'd be up in the stands. I would always
skate up to take the face off and look up at him. He'd make a gesture
and I'd know what he meant. I'd know to "keep low" or to slow down the
pace of the game. Hockey was the one thing in my life that made me
stand out. As soon as I skated out onto the ice I was different. I had
talent. I knew I did. I sat at the loser table
at high school. Here I had a C on my jersey. Captain. Picked by the
other players. Now he wasn't there. He wasn't in the stands for me. He
wasn't behind the bench. It was too cold for her. Even in the warm
room. It was too cold. As we stood in the kitchen she screamed. She
yelled. She was tired of me calling her "hey". She wanted me to use her
name. I couldn't. I was brought up calling adults Mr. and Mrs. I
couldn't call her that. She said she was treated like shit. That nobody
cared about her. She left the room. Storming outside. My dad turned to
me. He asked me if I could call her "ma". No way. It was only a year
after my MOM had died. I couldn't. I couldn't. I looked out the window
and saw her pacing in the back yard. Talking to herself. He said, "I'm
tired of being in the middle." I was tired of being nowhere.
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Dan London.
Published on e-Stories.org on 11.09.2006.