48 Hour Short Story Contest

It's not a good idea, Dad." I'd offered coolly, "I don't think you can handle it. Heck, I
don't think I can handle it."

I searched for some doubt, but saw nothing in his eyes that hadn't already been there.

"I understand, I know you're worried. We're going anyway. I promised your mom I'd go. She
made me swear to it Mike. Besides, I want to do it."

The part of him that would never get over losing her was bold and bright, it always would
be. It shone from his demeanor, and made me damn proud to be his son.

"If she were here today, she wouldn't let you go."

I'd turned thirty-nine years old a few weeks earlier, and never in all that time had I
heard him explode into such anger as when I'd said that.

"She's not here goddammit, and I don't care if it's the last thing I do, I'm going to do
this, with or without you." With a quaking lip and a few drops on his cheeks, he looked
at me like an enemy. He shoved the last of his shirts into his overnight bag, gave it a
violent little shove and stood up straight, something no longer simple for him to do. His
lip tightened, and I saw the anger quickly melt away, leaving a resolute peace. "Now are
you gonna come and help, or what?"

Until that very moment, I suppose I was convinced this was just folly. I'd never really
thought it would happen. He really meant it though, there was no denying that. I reached
across the flowery spread that still adorned their bed, and picked up his brown leather
bag.

"You're really something old man, you know that? OK, let's do it." He studied my eyes
more than my words. The man could read me like a book, so he knew I was in one hundred
percent. I held my hand out to him. It had always been our way, to offer up that firm
handshake whenever we'd resolved something, agreed or committed to each other. When he
grabbed hold of my hand and pulled me tight, I let a few silent tears escape. Hugging was
not something we typically did.

"I can't do this without you Mike, and I wouldn't do this with anyone else. Thank you."

"Come on Dad, you and Mom not only made sure I knew how to dream, you gave me the means
to achieve them. This is yours and Mom's dream. I wouldn't have it any other way."

I walked through the bedroom door and stood in the foyer. "If you think I'm letting you
drive though, you're crazy!" I flashed him a big grin, and he chuckled a little with me
as we locked the front door of his single level prefab home.

"Yeah, that's fine, I know how scared you get when I go five miles an hour over the speed
limit." He sat in the front passenger seat of the sixteen year old silver Camry. I
dropped our bags in the trunk.

When I opened the driver door I was already letting him have it. "Yeah, right - the only
time you're only going five miles over the speed limit is when you've slammed on the
breaks or hit something."

He knew it was true, he was smiling. "Shut up and drive. Hey you hungry?"

"I could eat if you want to stop, but I can wait"

"Good, about half way there, there's a little place where your mom and I first tried
gator. Thought you might like to try it. I thought it was a joke: They called 'em "Gator
Bites" on the menu. We'd only been in Florida a few weeks, so we ordered them and then
couldn't figure out what they were. Waitress laughed right out loud when we asked her. We
thought they were joking, they thought we were joking. We all laughed pretty good."



The Camry was Mom's car. There was no lingering scent of her, but Dad had left her little
Bo-Bo charm on the console. It's weird that I could look at pictures and talk about her
with really no emotional surge, but I had to avoid looking at this stupid little fuzzy
thing with big feet. Mom had always given so much of herself to the family. There were
very few things she kept for herself, or did for herself. This little thing was
quintessential Mom, and looking at it made me realize how much I missed her.

Dad had fallen asleep. He'd reached a point where he was always tired. After retiring on
disablity, his strong hearty disposition and hulking body began to wither. I still see
that man, but he hides inside a decimated, shrunken, hunched over little husk. The nerve
damage and oxygen deficiency had all but destroyed his body. It was rewarding to be able
to share something so important to him. As soon as we set out, there has been an energy
and happiness I haven't seen in him for years. I knew he needed the sleep to be able to
do this, so I decided I'd tell him I decided to forgo the gator opportunity because my
stomach was bothering me.

Falling Waters State Park was about twenty minutes away. I was pretty hungry, so I woke
Dad up. If we were going to eat, we'd have to do it soon. The cabin we'd rented had a
fireplace, furniture, a bedroom, and a kitchen, but we didn't bring food. We were going
to get a good night's sleep, and visit the falls in the morning.

"You let me sleep too long, we missed lunch." Dad sat up a little more and rubbed his
eyes. "We're almost there. We should stop and grab something to eat."

"I saw a sign for a family restaurant, want to give it a try?"

"Sure"

"You nervous, Dad?"

"No, I'm not nervous, but this has been in my head for a long time now. I can't believe
I'm going to finally do it."

No way was I going to let him do it. We'd visit, walk the path, and leave. That's going
to have to be good enough. He's not strong enough to do much of anything, let alone
something that was probably hard to do twenty years ago.

"Things change a lot in twenty years, Dad."

I felt his look. It wasn't pleasant, but he said nothing. We pulled into the parking lot
of Carter's Family Restaurant. I could smell seafood, and grease, but it was OK. The
small cedar shingled building looked clean, and the lot was half full. I didn't have any
reason to worry, dinner should be good.

"We had breakfast here." Dad's eyes were staring at the building, but what he was looking
at was twenty years younger, I'm sure.

"We can find another place."

"No...no, this is good. We liked it here." His smile was warm, I could see the feeling of
love wash over him. He wore it like a warm coat on a cold evening.

"Let's go get some dinner, fish and chips sounds good."

"I'm hoping for a Fisherman's Platter, I'm starving!"

We walked in the front door and it was obvious it hadn't changed much in twenty years.
Lightly patterned linoleum flooring with well worn high traffic areas, formica counters
and tables with aluminium wraps. Tabletop jukeboxes on each booth's table, swivel stools
at the counter and pastel color everywhere. It looked like a diner from the seventies.
Even the greasy smell crawling up my sinuses has probably been hanging around that long.

A squarish old woman who looked more suited to a wharf, looked us over and told us to
seat ourselves. Dad sat in the first booth facing the entry.

"You'll get cold here Dad, we should move further in." His look of incredulousness was
almost comical.

"What are you, my mother?" he chuckled at me. "I'm fine, sit down."

"I'll be right back." I told him without explaination, but he knew I was going to get his
jacket.

When I came back in, a middle aged woman was standing there listening to Dad. He was
telling the story of him and Mom's first trip here. She had a patient and sweet smile,
but I interrupted anyway.

"Do you folks have a Fisherman's Platter?"

Both heads turned towards me without a word. "What? I'm hungry, and Dad, as interesting
as this all is, this nice lady has work to do."

"I'm sorry my son is in such a hurry. I'll just have the fish and chips"

"Ok sweetheart, fish and chips for you. And would you like your platter baked or fried?"
she raised her painted eyebrows in anticipation of my hurried order.

"If the deep frier has been cleaned sometime in the last week, I'll take it fried." I
don't know why I was snippy, but I was a little on edge.

"Every Monday dahlin', fried it is." She turned and walked straight to the backroom.

"I already told her two iced teas."

"Oh, cool, thanks Dad."

Dinner was uneventful, fortunately the food was alright. We didn't talk a whole lot, but
Dad told me more about the first trip he and Mom had made here. It was five years before
he'd retired. He and Mom visited my aunt and uncle in Savannah, and came across a
brochure for the park. They decided to make an overnight trip. It was a time in their
relationship when they had grown apart, were always fighting, and wondered if they should
just divorce. It wasn't a surprise to hear this. It had always been more of a surprise to
me that they held on and ended up so happy. This was a last chance trip, where they were
going to try and forget eveything but each other. They wanted to find each other once
again. He said there was one particular moment that did just that, and that was why he
was coming back. He knew she'd be here with him. He didn't think I knew what that was,
but I did. I'd heard him talking about it before. No way was I going to let him do that!

I watched Dad put his jacket on, and sit back from the table. He looked tired again. His
dinner was almost untouched. He was having a hard time breathing, and looked a bit
uncomfortable.

"Your fish and chips might be no good, but I'm starving, you're going to have to just
wait." I was joking a bit, trying to keep the mood light.

"Take your time, I wasn't very hungry. I wonder if I'm going to be able to sleep on the
cabin cots."

"We can go grab a hotel room, it's not a problem Dad."

"No, I want to stay here."

"We'll give it a shot, if you can't sleep - the hotels are just a few minutes away."

We paid the bill, and left a really generous tip. Dad wouldn't leave less than thirty
percent, ever. We left twenty dollars on a thirty four dollar check. We got in the car
and rode silently to the park. I checked us in, got directions and drove to the cabin. I
sort of expected a log cabin, but it was really a simple shack. It was all white, a
little bigger than my shed, and the roof sagged like a the gap on a two-humped camel. Dad
got out and walked into the cabin, turning on an outside light.

I got our bags out of the trunk and felt sweat forming on my forehead and back. It was
going to be a long hot, sticky night. There was a chorus of bugs screaming at us in a
hundred different languages. I think they were laughing at us.

The place was clean, and all the window screens were intact. Thank God! It was two rooms.
A semi kitchen, half shared with a sitting area, and a back room-- a tiny bedroom with two
almost twin-sized beds. They were mattresses on platforms, so sleeping was at least
possible. Dad pushed in past me, and plopped down on the bed under the open window.

"I'm gonna rest a bit, I'm tired. He flipped off his sandles and laid there in his polyester pants and black socks. Armani he was not, but I loved him like crazy."

"Sure Dad, I think I'll read for a bit." It had just gotten dark. It was a little after eight thirty. He was down for the night, and I wasn't even remotely tired.




I gave up on reading and went to bed. Dad was going to be up at five, as always, so I
figured I should sleep.

It was still dark when I heard him coughing in the bathroom. I hoped it wasn't three or
something like that. I got up.

It was daybreak a few minutes later. Dad already had a cribbage board waiting. We had a
couple hours to kill before the trails opened. We played and laughed for a long time, and
at ten minutes to eight, Dad spoke.

"Let's go." His eyes were alive. His pupils were two times their normal size. He stood up
and moved towards the door like he was twenty-four, not a worn out, very old sixty-four.

I grabbed our bags, we hopped in the car, and drove to the other side of the park, near
the falls.

Dad looked sad getting out of the car. His bright eyes were forced half shut by a furrow
and a bit of a frown. "Look at this place, Mike. It's a mess!" His bottom lip was rolled
up under his moustache and I could see him wearing pain like body armour. "This would
have killed your mother. She loved this place."

I looked at the spray of lush green over grown ferns, and rainbow of flowering plants and
wondered what he was talking about. It was pretty nice. "Looks OK to me Dad."

"It was groomed before, and clean. Look there's trash all along the edge of the parking
area. The water isn't even clear."

I couldn't let him feel cheated, or disappointed. Not after all this time. "Dad, let's
just go to the falls, up here by the road it was bound to get a little messy, right?"

Dad kicked a bottle cap off of the path and started towards the falls. It was a ten
minute walk that we stretched into almost an hour. We stopped to rest a couple of times.
At our last stop, we could hear the waterfall. I could see it lift Dad's spirit.

"You feeling good today, Mike?"

"Dad, I know what you think you're going to do, but I can't let you. Let's just go see
the falls. Maybe even say a prayer, and then go, OK?"

He stood up and practically bounded up the path. The path was wide and well worn, but it
was trashy. We'd passed by as much trash here as you might expect in an alley behind row
houses. The water was nice though. It was crystal clear everywhere, but near the road.
The rocks were colorful and bright, the fish looked like they were floating in air. With
some clean up and grooming, this place would be gorgeous.

There were large cut away areas with benches for sitting, and few picinic tables on each
side of the waterfall. It was beautiful. Flowering trees hung over the edges, the trees
were so full you could hardly see between them. Flowers of every shape and more colors
than I could count, lined the banks of the pool beneath the falls.

Dad walked to the railing, and I knew he was going to try and hop in, so I stayed close.

"Dad, I know about your first trip, when you picked up Mom and jumped in. I'm not letting
you do that."

He said nothing, but I heard him sobbing. I put my arm around his shoulders and let him
cry. They were together for forty-two years. I knew they loved each other more after
forty-two years then they did when they'd first fell in love. I didn't need to take away
from his moment.

"I didn't know you knew that. I was thinking about it, but that isn't why I came today.
Besides, look right down there. More trash."

I looked at the embankment. Soda cans, snack bags, an almost completely decomposed
cardboard box: It was awful. In the bushes just below was a rusty old bike. It had no
seat. The post stuck up out of the foliage like a compound fracture. It was ugly.

He laughed through a sniff and a tear, wiping his eyes on his arm. "Been thirty years
since I rode a Schwinn, I don't think I should start with one so worn out."
He laughed and swung his arm around the middle of my back.

"Mike, give me a minute, would you. I want to talk to your Mom alone."

I was tearing up, so I squeezed his shoulder and walked away. I sat down on a bench and
watched Dad bow his head.

He raised his head a few minutes later and I walked back over. Tears wet his whole face,
and he was holding a Ziploc bag. His eyes were red and puffy, and happy.

"I love you Dad, I'm glad we came."

"You don't know what was in the bag, do you?" He searched my face. It was trying to
remain calm, but my lips and nose were twitching and tears were burning rivers to my
chin. "It was her ashes, Mike. That's what I promised."

I looked at the dusty gray coating on the inside of the bag and then cried like a baby.
Dad hugged me and told me to be happy. Mom was happy now.


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