Bubble Wrap by Ihor Pidhainy
Staci told me bring over the bubble wrap.
“He’s a kid; he’ll love it. Now I’ll meet you at the airport at seven. Ok. Don’t stick around, and don’t get into a fight.”
I drove over to my old house.
“Hey, Noel, are you home?” I shouted as soon as I got in the door. No changes to the lock, which I didn’t think there would be, but who knew with Marci?
Noel came down the stairs to greet me. I gave him a sheet of bubble wrap and watched his eyes get big, like goldfish at the pet shop.
“Wow. Awesome.”
Just old enough to enjoy.
He sat on the sofa and began the routine of popping the bubbles one row at a time. I waited for a couple of rows to go by.
“You want to help me, Dad?”
I hesitated, but it kept me from speaking. We went through several more rows, and I looked at my phone. 5:30. I still had time.
“Dad, are you going to be here this weekend?”
“Actually, I came by to talk to you about that.”
I could imagine hearing my Marci’s breath freeze in the other room, but she wasn’t here. Probably with Gary. That was better anyway; I wanted to handle this without her in the background.
“Yeah,” Noel continued to pop the rows of bubbles, oblivious to my own stoppage, “where are we going to go?”
I always took Noel places on his birthday. This was making me sweat, hold my breath.
“I’m going to take you to a distant solar system in a far-away galaxy to a planet inhabited by mice and cheese, and macaroni is the key product.”
Noel broke up laughing, an old story we had invented. I wondered how to break it to him. Be a Man. Be a Coward.
We’re going to have to do this another weekend, I want to say, but that’s like talking to my buddy who’s not going to be crushed.
Noel had a single line of bubble wrap to go, “So where we going?”
“It’s going to have to be next weekend, Noel. I’ve got to go to Los Angeles this weekend.”
I thought tears, maybe hidden behind a stoic face, but I got nothing. But then, Noel was used to me having to leave town.
“Oh, Ok. No problem, Mom’s planned something in case things didn’t work out.”
Now I was being torn to pieces, since I was the villain, and I had cut him off from feeling anything about me or my plans.
“Thanks for the bubble wrap, Dad.” He got up and handed me back an imperfectly popped sheet. He was still too young to go storming off, so he sat on the bed.
I looked at my phone. “I have got to go, Noel.”
I called an Uber and got ready to head out.
“Dad, can I come with you?”
I was floored.
“Not this weekend.”
No tears, “Ok, I’m going to miss you.”
He shuffled back upstairs.
Outside, I saw the Uber pull up.
I got in and headed for the airport.
Born in Canada, Ihor Pidhainy lives and works in the American South. His fiction has appeared in Bright Flash Literary Review, Vermilion, Union Spring Literary Review and elsewhere.
Photo by Jonathan Borba at Pexels
Tags: