Park Bench
it soon after. “Messy divorce. Martha wanted to leave me within a year.
Ha! Tried to run off with my money. Jill, though. She’s a good woman.”
The older man blew a sooty breath and the wind carried it down to
one of the older playgrounds, empty now, its once vibrant colors now
faded and chipped.
“Right. Seems you’re still keeping busy after Mom died.”
A car whizzed dully as it passed by. A father called for his child in
the distance. Squeaks and dribbles from the basketball courts echoed to
where they were. Some shouts and protests. The noise quieted.
“Well, it’s nice to see you again, Will.”
The older man tried a smile. Will stared at the trees.
Pat let out a puff of air. “C’mon, Will. What is this? You leave for
years and come back with no notice, no note, no letter, no phone calls.
You don’t talk. I call you, too. Plenty of times. I’m trying, I am.”
A police siren wailed in the distance.
“Why are we here? Will?”
With a stiff breath, Will turned and faced his father. “I just want to
know one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“How come you never cried?”
Pat furrowed his brow. “About what?”
Will scowled. “About Mom. How come you never cried when she
died?”
“This again?” The older man threw up his hands and leaned back in
his seat. He shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell
you, Will.”
“Tell me anything! Tell me you two fought and I didn’t know. Tell
me you were already seeing some woman when we found out.”
“What was I supposed to feel? Did you want me to bawl my eyes
out for your sake? Was I supposed to be your crying buddy? It’s plain
and simple. The sickness came, I held her hand through it all, and when
she died I moved on. What does it even matter to you if I cried or not?”
Will stared at his father, then turned away.
“She died ten times over for me before I took her off life support.
Don’t think I didn’t grieve.”
“Yeah, well that plug got pulled pretty quick.” Will shook his head,
muttering to himself.
13