Jon’s boot weighed heavy on the gas. The four cylinder engine growled as it pierced the cold pistons into propulsion. Chilled air rushed in through the vents, dancing between each thick curl on Jon’s chin. He swung his hands away from the steering wheel, touching the hairs with his long stony fingers, neatly tucking the untamed ends under his collar.
A week had passed since his wife’s last tryst. Or so he thought. Elea took more kindly to Jon after a visit from her arrangement. She acted as if love was a new variable. But it would not last more than three weeks and Jon knew that. She would be planning breakfasts with one of her lady friends soon enough. “But who could blame her?” he thought. He had not had a day’s work in six months. It was February now, and soon he would be working on his seventh jobless month.
Jon eased the sedan to a stop at an empty intersection below a hanging red stoplight. His rusted blue car quivered. He looked at the throbbing bulb with squinted eyes. He found the sun—a crease through the heavy low clouds. He sat his boot on the brake. Then he eased off it, allowing the car to roll a bit. The pistons let out a squealing sigh. Jon puffed his chest out, pointing his beard to the heavens and he thought of Barry. “There is hope. He is our hope.” His mind wandered and then he drifted back to his reality. “I, though,” he said, “am hopeless.”
The stoplight clicked to green. The clouds huddled tightly, slowly softening the yellow light into the dull of gray. Jon pulled on his beard, then he rolled the ends back up and under his collar. The clouds seemed to loom closer under the blue car but then appeared motionless. A hush of wind crept through a crack in the window and Jon shifted his foot from stop to go.
After he had driven along for a short time, he guided the wheel through his fingers, turning left down the old schoolhouse road that was constructed for the lightest of rural traffic. But as the years passed into decades, the thin road had withered and no longer sufficed. Jon lowered the window. He could still smell the burn of new asphalt—the smell of fresh lumber axed away to expand the girth of the road.
Jon stopped at the security booth, leaning out of the car window. “I’m here for my son. Doctor’s appointment,” Jon said. He cranked his window back up and he nodded to the gate attendant who saluted Jon as he passed.
Leafless trees surrounding the lot held squawking crows. Gulls circled beneath the silver sky. He rounded the lot twice before settling his car beside the dusty school maintenance truck in the last row. Jon kicked his door open and he stretched his arms like wings over his head. He let a whispering roar slide past his lips and he swung his arms back to his sides. His sea-legs wobbled through the parked cars on the smooth earth ‘til he spilled through the schoolhouse doors, bracing himself on the front desk. Where a woman sat, intermittently tapping on a keyboard with index fingers while holding a phone to her ear with her large left shoulder. She looked at Jon with blank eyes, nodding—“can I help you”—at him. Jon hesitated. Then the lady rolled her eyes and she went back to drumming the keys.
“Ma’am,” he finally said, swiping his cap off his head. “I’d like to pick up my son. Barry Brand.” He pocketed the wool cap. Then he bridged his fingers into one another.
The woman held a hand up at Jon. “Mary, hang on. I got someone here.” She rested the phone next to the keyboard and she looked up at Jon. “Barry Bonds?” she said, laughingly.
“No. It’s Barry Brand. I’m his father, Jon Brand.” He stepped back from the desk and he slid his feet deep into his boots.
“I was just kidding, doll. You’re too cute,” she winked. “Vice President Brand is a real regular ‘round here. Quite the kid ya got yourself there.” She stopped tapping the keyboard. “He should be in lunch now,” she pointed to the cafeteria. “You can just go on in there, Hon.”
Jon cringed at her breasts heaving up over her small sweater. “Don’t I need a pass or something?”
“No. It’s right over there. Don’t worry, none. I’ll cover for ya if ya get called down to the principal.”
Jon faked a smooth laugh. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said and he pushed off the desk.
The lobby was flooded with school-spirited paraphernalia. Jon scanned over the glass cases. He was able to spot some photos from when he had attended. Just below the ceiling hung banners of the school’s prized basketball and baseball club division victories traced sporadically with volleyball and soccer banners.
The door to the cafeteria was opened and his son was seated at the first table. “Barry,” Jon called out. “Bar.”
“Pa,” Barry said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”
Jon paused for a moment, looking at the girl sitting across from Barry. Spots of freckles dotted her cheeks and she wore pink painted lips. She was dressed in a loose purple sweater and snug jeans with a light flare. She smiled teasingly at Barry. “I’d thought we would go for lunch,” Jon devised quickly.
“Oh, shucks. I just ate. Plus, I got a test next period. I really can’t miss it. Tomorrow ain’t good either. But Friday. Friday I am open.” Barry curved his lips and he revealed his straight white teeth. “Sound good?” he said, smiling at the girl.
“Aw, c’mon, Bud. We haven’t gone out in years.” Jon relaxed his muscles, letting out a tense sigh.
“I don’t know, Pa. Ms. Sanderson’ll have my neck if I miss this test.”
“I’ll vouch for ya. C’mon. I need to show you something.” Jon’s face sunk down into his jacket. His beard puffing out.
“Pa, I can’t. Lay off, all right?” Barry laughed nervously.
Jon reached out, grabbing Barry’s arm. “C’mon. Let’s go. You can just make it up.” Jon squeezed his stony fingers into his son’s young soft flesh.
Barry stood up as if he knew what was good for him. He looked up at his father. “Okay, Pops. Let’s go.” Barry flashed an enthusiastic grin and he picked his bag up off the bench.
“Want me to tell Ms. Sanderson you caught the bug?” the girl said between spitty loud chews of bubble gum.
“Sure,” Barry said. “That sounds fine.” Barry lazily waved three fingers at the girl, twisting his body towards the door. “So, where are we going?” the boy asked, slipping his arms into his jacket.
“A special spot, son. It’s something I think you should see now,” Jon said.
Barry slowed his stride at his father’s words. “You okay, Pa?”
“I’m fine, Bar. Don’t you go on worrying about me. You got yourself to worry about. You’re going to be a success. So don’t you go on worrying about your Pops. He can fend for himself.” Jon laughed and he turned to Barry. “Just think you should see this. That’s all.”
The ride seemed quicker than the twenty minutes that passed before Jon pulled the reigns of the car onto the backside of a dune. The ride was mostly silent between the generations. Both men listened to the sounds of the balding tires humming along the roughed concrete and the tapping of Barry’s fingers across his cell phone.
Barry tilted his head to better look out the window. He rolled his eyes. Then he turned towards his father. “You made me miss my test for the beach?” Barry questioned. He flipped open his phone, “Great. No service.” Then he shoved it into his pocket.
Jon nodded at Barry. Then the fisherman opened the door and immediately the smell of salt wafted up to his face.
Barry scratched his head and he rubbed his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m missing my test for this. I’ve been here plenty of times. The old man has finally lost it.” Barry sat still for a few moments. He watched his father squat over the dunes. Then the man drove his hands into the sand before he threw the grains up into the air like confetti. “Oh, dear,” Barry said. “This is going to be a longer walk than I thought.” Barry exited the car. He walked up behind Jon. The boy rested his hands on his father’s shoulders. “You sure you okay, Pa? It’s okay to tell me.?
??
Jon froze for a moment. Then he got up to his feet. “Barry. Stop asking me that. Of course I am fine. I’m your father.” He smiled at his son. But Barry stared blankly at his father’s words.
“Okay. Then where to?”
“Just over that ridge. Then down that deer trail,” Jon said, pointing to the cut between the dunes. “I’ve taken you here when you were a child. We went fishing down along the coast.” He paused. “And your grandfather would take me here when he’d come home from a tour.” He looked over at the dunes, watching the top heavy cattails wobble towards the sea.
“C’mon, Pa, let’s get a move on. It looks like snow.” Barry flipped his phone from his pocket, wincing at its servicelessness. “I can’t believe I’m missing my test to get caught in the snow on the beach. I better not catch a bug now that I lied in its name. I’m doomed,” he said. “I’m going to come down with something now, for sure.” He snapped the phone closed and he tossed it back into his pocket.
“Barry. Lighten up. It’s the perfect day. I wouldn’t want to come on any other day than this one right here. Right now.” Jon took Barry’s hands, steadying them into his own. When Barry regained composure, Jon rubbed his stony fingers into the boy’s palms.
“What are you doing?”
“Just relax. You need to relax.” Jon forcibly rotated three fingers into Barry’s hand. The circling patterns soothed Barry. And he smiled at his father.
“Okay, Pa. Let’s go to this special spot already.”
Jon’s excitement carried into a speedy pace. Barry had to quicken his steps often to catch up to the swift stride of his father. Their boots crunched the icy sand—drumming faint echoes off of the dunes as four sandpipers sailed overhead.
Barry stopped with his hands atop his knees—bent over to smooth the burn in his lungs. He traced the dunes from peak to valley in awe, smiling. “Look at this, Pa. Look at this,” Barry called up to his father.
“What is it?”
“Three deer, sir. Three does to be exact,” he whispered loudly.
Jon sent his fingers through his beard and he scratched at his chin. “Matured?” he said. “Or little fawns?”
“Two fawns and the mother.”
“What a find, son.” Jon retraced his steps back towards his son. Jon eased his feet into the sand, muffling the crunch of ice. Barry placed one knee into the ground. His eyes looked exhausted.
The mother doe stepped out in front of her two fawns. She gazed deeply into Jon’s eyes before running off the trail with her offspring soon to follow. Jon looked back over at Barry. The boy’s shoulders were touching his knees in a squat. Jon stepped back and he frowned. He listened to the gallop sound off the dunes for some time. Then he placed his arms around Barry’s forearms and Jon lifted the boy from the sand. “So, when do you hear back from colleges?”
“I’m not sure. Hopefully soon. I hope I get into State,” Barry said.
“I’m sure you’ll get into State. And I hope you make the right decision.”
“I know, Pa. You needn’t remind me.” Barry frowned and he shuffled a small flat rock between his boots. “My grades could be better,” he said.
“Well, we’ll just have to wait and see. That’s all. No sense in false hope, right?” Jon took his glasses off, rubbing them on his shirt under his jacket. Then he continued on the trail. Barry brushed the sand from his knees and he jogged up a few meters to walk at his father’s side.
Up ahead, a stout pine tree poked out from a valley cut between two tall dunes. The tree marked a bend in the path, succeeded by a thick brush encompassing up over the pass. The pine’s branches were mangled within one another. Its needles were short and scarce between. The brush up ahead was dried and brittle as the twigs waited for the spring months to arrive, when they will strive again with the lush of green. A large gray gull circled overhead, then settled atop the dune to the right. Jon turned his head. He could see Barry now several meters behind him. Jon shook his head and he picked at his beard. He finally could hear the waves crash. He closed his eyes to see them fall. And when he opened them, one of the fawns stood before the tunnel of leafless brush—under a mangled pine branch. The doe’s thin legs shaking into the cold sand.
The smell of pine roared into Jon’s nostrils as he passed the wretched tree.
“It’s that doe,” Barry shouted up to his father.
Jon stared at the fawn, ignoring his son’s call. “He’s not as strong as I thought,” he said. “He might rely on man—servitude to the Son of Man.” Jon blinked, refocusing on the doe. “At least I serve the sea. Barry will one day realize he too is destined to serve the sea. Realize that college is a waste. He has no will.” Jon walked closer to the small fawn, outstretching his hand.
“Are you crazy?” Barry yelled. “The mother will attack you.” Barry ran up, grabbing Jon around the waist. “You can’t go and touch that thing. You don’t know what diseases it may have. Don’t be disgusting.”
“I’ve touched deer before in my life, Bar.”
“But I am here. And you are not going to do that around me.”
“I can do what I want. I’m your father. I make the rules. You can’t tell me what I can and cannot do.” Jon weaved his fingers through Barry’s, ripping his son’s grip from around his waist. “Now, leave me be.” The doe stood frozen in front of the two bickering. Jon then stepped forward three steps and he petted the deer atop her head. “There girl. There.” Then he patted the doe’s rear, sending it off, down through the tunneling brush.
Snow fell on Jon’s nose and then on Barry’s upper lip.
“Pa, it’s starting to snow. Let’s get out of here before we get attacked by the mother. Before the snow starts to come down heavy.” Barry flipped his cell phone out. He stared at it for a few moments before starting back for the car. “Wait’ll I tell Julie why I missed the test today. She’ll freak.”
“But we are almost there,” Jon protested. “It’s only through the thick brush. And then over the dunes. And then we are there.” Jon looked down at the brush. The sand in front of him had begun to collect the first dustings of the snowfall. The small pines, few and far between, were already laced with white. But the brush-enclosed trail ahead kept the sand underneath dry. Jon turned, looking for Barry over his shoulder, but the boy was already out of sight. “He must be behind two or three dunes by now,” he said in a low mumble. He stared back at the mangled pine tree one last time before he too headed back for the car. “He ain’t strong. Not at all.” Jon kicked up the wet sand with his slowed steps. “No hope,” he proclaimed.
The brush and the pine trees and the dunes were disappearing in the thickening snow. The aroma of pine was extinguished by the covering white.