Bygones

Bygones

by Andrew

“Mom? Dad? You guys home?”

Relieved, Eric started his escape to his bedroom. His duffel bag was near breaking point, it was stuffed so full. You never know what the weather will be like here; he learned that a long time ago. Eric looked around the entry way. The antique pictures of his family’s ancestors still scowled at everyone who walked in. When he reached the bottom of the stairs he saw his father asleep in that dusty old recliner. The book case that stood behind his father still overflowed with books.

“Nothing ever changes around here,” sighed Eric.

He looked closer. His father had more lines on his face and the silver in his beard had become dominant.

“This is new,” said Eric, picking up the rhythmic book that was resting on his father’s chest. Richard Wright—an unordinary choice.

“It’s your mother’s,” said Eric’s father, climbing out of the recliner.

Eric didn’t realize that he had woken his father. He knew he shouldn’t have picked that book up, but he couldn’t resist.

“What?”

“The book. Your mother thinks I should read it. She’s thinks she can change an old man.”

“She always was ambitious.”

Eric’s father didn’t seem to notice the last comment. Instead, he scratched his silver beard. “But my book isn’t the only thing that’s new; I like your beard—a chip off the ol’ block.” The first and only time Eric had ever heard his father use that expression.

Eric cleared his throat and gave an unnoticed smirk from the side of his mouth. “Right. Mine still has color in it, though,” he said, stroking his jet black beard that matched his black hair.

“How’s school? Any girls?”

Eric turned his head in search of a place to sit. He bee-lined to the couch on the other side of the room and sat down, looking his father square in the eye. His father sat back down in the old recliner.

“I just got home. Besides I don’t know why you always ask that question. You know the answer.”

“It’s just a question.”

An awkward pause swept over the room. Suddenly, his father leapt out of his recliner. “Let’s go upstairs—I need ice cream. Don’t tell your mother.”

“Why are you home so early? You’re never home before dinner.”

“The entire school district is closed today on account of no electricity. Hackers.”

“Hackers?”

“Apparently a student decided he needed a day off.” His father let out a heavy sigh and continued. “I used to believe the youth of America had the potential do great things. I’m beginning to re-think this.”

“I dunno. I’d say that’s pretty clever,” said Eric with a grin on his face.

Eric took one of the spoons from his father. He had forgotten how much he hated his parents’ overly decorated silverware. The tiny engraved flowers were too much for Eric. He felt like he was eating out of the original silver spoon. Eric’s father remained silent as he diligently scooped the ice cream out of the gallon sized plastic container. He gave Eric one of the avocado colored bowls that he’d eaten out of so many times before.

The silence had grown too loud and had lingered too long for Eric’s liking. “I read that the world is getting smarter. Children are developing earlier, test scores have gone way up in the last ten years, and more people are going to college. They call it micro-evolution.”

“I never would have thought of it like that.”

“No surprise,” said Eric with that same smirk.

“Don’t go there, Eric. Not right now. You just got here.”

Eric let out a cold laugh. “You’re still hoping to ignore it, huh? Ignore me. It’s just a phase, right?”

“I just need—“

“It’s not about what you need!” Eric was on his feet now. “I need a father. A family. Everyone deserves that—to be loved no matter who or what they are.”

Eric’s father walked out of the kitchen in an attempt to physically dodge this conversation. “Eric, please.”

“You’re right. It’s pointless anyway.” Eric turned his back on his father. Let bygones be bygones—something like that.

“When does mom get home?”

“Soon. She’ll be home soon,” said his father.

“I think I’ll take my ice cream in my room.”