Date: Tue, 01 Apr 2003 16:05:01 -0500 From: Jeff Wilson Subject: W.A.R. Part Three, Chapter 6 Well, talk about bad timing... I guess the title of this story isn't such a good thing with what's going on in the world right now. But, what's done is done. I got a really nice letter from a reader last week and I really want to say thank you! It came at just the right time and really helped me to see this story differently. In the long run, it will help to make WAR even better, and that's a good thing! I really do want to make a good story here. Also, the title for this part of the story should begin to become apparent in this and the next several chapters. W.A.R. Part Three - Self Destructive Tendencies Chapter Six: A Day with Dad by Jeff Wilson I awoke feeling quite content. Everything seemed to be going well. My head didn't hurt. My mouth didn't hurt. Everything was just perfect for a Saturday. Absolutely perfect. I threw my blankets away from my body and enjoyed a quick and pleasant morning of self pleasuring. My wiener enjoyed the attention and rewarded my efforts with warm tingly feelings. I was thoroughly enjoying the experience when a knock came at my door. I flipped the covers back onto me and asked my interrupter to come in. It was my mom. "Billy, your dad is going to go to work at the Nicholsons' house today." She said as she stood in the doorway. I peeked out from beneath my blue blankets. "Yeah, I know." "Well, Donnie can't make it to help him today." She said. Donnie had been my dad's right hand man for years. Whenever my dad worked on a project, Donnie was there to help him. "That's nice." I said as I rolled back over, intending to pretend I was asleep until she left. Then I'd continue with the fun I was having. "I want you to go with your father today and help him out with whatever he needs from you." She said. "What?!?" I said as I sat up in bed, careful not to reveal too much skin below my belly button to my mom. "Why do I have to go? I don't know the first thing about that stuff. Besides, it's boring!" "William Aaron! Shame on you! Your father works hard for you and you can't take one day out of your life to help him! You get out of that bed and get showered right now! You're going!" She scolded. "You can't make me do this!" I insisted, knowing full well that she could make me. "If you don't go, don't expect to go anywhere else for a very long time." She said calmly. "This is so stupid. This is my stupid Saturday and I have to stupid work." I said as I flipped my legs out of bed and began to get up. Then I realized my mom was still in the room and I was still naked under the covers. "Do you mind?" I snapped. "I'm not getting out of bed if you're still in here." She sighed and left the room, closing the door behind her. I climbed out of bed and slipped on a pair of shorts. Then I went to the bathroom. I took my morning shower and felt better. Then I saw the clock... 6:45!!! I was up just as early as if I was going to school! How pathetic! I got dressed and walked to the kitchen. Mom said good morning to me and I scowled in return. I was determined not to be a nice person today. I ate a bagel and kept a permanent frown on my face until my dad came into the kitchen. "Ready to go, boy?" He said, sounding way too happy. I grumbled in response and followed him out to the truck, the same truck I'd thrown up in on the way to Bedford last summer. Dad unlocked the door for me. I climbed in, slammed the door and sat with my arms crossed and a scowl on my face. "Wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, boy?" He asked. "Hmph." I replied. "I guess you did." He said as he started the truck and began to drive. "Where's Donnie today?" I asked. "He broke his hand. He's got a cast and won't be able to help me for a few weeks. I was hoping that maybe you'd keep working with me until he comes back. I'd love to have you with me." He said. I began to feel sick... "Dad... I... I don't know what to do to help you." I said. "Don't worry about that. Your mom told me that you were less than thrilled to be helping me..." I felt even more sick. "Don't worry about it. You know, I never wanted to help my dad either. He never let me do anything and most of the time I was bored. But when he started to let me help him, he realized that he had missed out on a lot. Because I could do things naturally that he took months to learn." "Yeah, but you like doing electrical things." I said. "I don't want to." "Well the least you can do is keep me company, then. I hope you can cheer up a bit in the mean time." We arrived at the Nicholsons' house and we walked to the door. Dad knocked and elderly Mr. Nicholson answered. "George! How are you today? And who's this young guy with you? No... It can't be... This isn't little William!" Mr. Nicholson smiled at me and rubbed his hand on my hair. I was sure I'd never met this man. "That's my boy, alright. Billy." Dad said as he put his hand on my shoulder. "Billy, eh? The last time I saw you, you must have been about five or so. You had blond hair back then. I'll bet you don't remember me, do you?" He said to me, extending his hand. I shook it and smiled at this strange new person. "You see, I used to be your dad's boss, years ago. Then I retired and your dad took over my job. I gotta tell you, Billy, he's even better at it than I was. You know, your dad used to work with your grandfather when he was your age. It seemed sometimes that he knew more about machines than your grandpa did!" My dad just smiled and started to head to the basement. Mr. Nicholson and I followed. Funny, dad never talked about having people work for him... Mr. Nicholson continued to talk to us while dad began turning off breakers. "I don't think there's a house in this town that your dad or grandfather didn't work on in some way or the other. You know he's got quite the reputation. For as long as I can remember if I've ever had a problem with anything electrical, I've called Earl or George Roberts. Who knows? Maybe people will be calling you someday, Billy." I laughed out loud when he said that. "I don't think so, Mr. Nicholson. I'm no mechanic." "What? George, I find that hard to believe!" "This is the first time Billy's come out to help me." My dad explained. "What? That can't be! Why, that's how you learn, son, by going out and helping!" Mr. Nicholson said. "He thinks it's boring..." Dad said, almost sadly. Suddenly I wished I didn't think it was boring. We all walked up to a room that wasn't finished in the house. My dad gave me a hammer and told me to start pounding nails on some sort of wooden box. It took three tries before I got one to go in straight. He was working with a drill on part of the wall. Mr. Nicholson and dad talked about sports, weather, what the room was supposed to look like, you name it. I had never seen my dad talk so openly with someone. Mr. Nicholson must have been a very close friend. Later, my dad started to teach me how to put outlets in the wall. He demonstrated how to screw in the box, then he let me try. I managed to get one in, but it was upside down, and my dad told me to try it again. He didn't get mad at me. He just explained what was wrong and went back to what he was doing. I took the outlet box out of the hole and tried again. When I had it all in, dad asked me to come help him with the project he was working on. "Now listen, boy. There's a lot of wires to connect this ceiling fan. This is hooked up to breaker number 15, so I need you to go downstairs to the big breaker box and turn off breaker 15. Okay? Breaker 15." "I've got it, I've got it. Breaker fifteen." I replied. I walked down to the basement and found the breaker box. I turned off breaker 15 and returned to the room. When I came back, dad was connecting wires to the ceiling fan motor. He was pulling wires and screwing in bolts. I watched as he touched the different wires and put them into place. I got closer to see what he was doing. When he noticed me, he began to explain how he was connecting each wire into place, and how he had already pulled the wire through the ceiling and connected it to a place in the wall that he had drilled earlier. Then he went to the hole in the wall and explained how the wire had been pulled through. He pulled out a wire and explained how it would adjust the speed for the fan. Then he started to tell me about another switch that would be used for the light. I reached for the wire that my dad had held in his hand and was promptly knocked right on my butt. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZAP! The first thing I felt was that my teeth hurt. Then it felt like I'd been kicked in the balls. I laid there for a minute, expecting my dad to show sympathy for me. Instead, I heard him and Mr. Nicholson laughing at me. "Don't tell me he fell for that old trick!!" Mr. Nicholson said, holding his rather large belly with both hands. "No, he grabbed it on his own before I could tell him not to." My dad laughed. "What the fuck happened?" I asked, not even realizing what words I'd used, but that just made them laugh even harder. "You touched a live wire, boy! Damn, boy, don't touch a wire unless I tell you it's okay!" My dad said, still laughing. "But you touched it!" I explained. "Yeah, but you can feel your fingers, your dad can't." Mr. Nicholson said. "What?" I asked, confused. "Billy, I haven't had feeling in my fingers or toes since I was twenty or so. It's part of my sugar problem. Mr. Nicholson used to put me with the new workers to break them in and one of the things I used to do was play a trick on them where I'd grab a live wire and hand it to them. That's why we're laughing at you." "Why can't you feel your fingers?" I asked. I knew my dad had some problems, but I never thought it was that bad. My dad took a drink of Mt. Dew and answered. "Billy. That's part of diabetes. You lose feeling in your extremities. That's why sometimes diabetics have to have operations to remove toes. They lose feeling and blood doesn't get out to them as well. It's a problem I've just learned to live with over the years." Even though the rest of the morning went smoothly, the one thing that stuck with me was what my dad had said about not being able to feel his fingers and toes. How was that possible? I thought about that the rest of the day and really gained some respect for him as I watched him flawlessly screw nuts and bolts and place wires exactly where they needed to go. At lunch time, Mr. Nicholson went to the store to buy us something to eat. I continued working on outlets while dad connected them. "So, you still mad about having to come with me?" Dad asked. "Nah... I was just tired. I'm glad you're letting me do stuff." I answered. "See, you can have fun without Brett." He said. "I guess so." I said. "When's he coming back?" He asked. "Monday or Tuesday I think." I said. I knew it was Monday night. "You know a year ago your grandmother came home from the nursing home. It seems like years ago now." He said as he screwed a bolt into place. "We're lucky we made it through. You know how proud we are of you, don't you?" "You are? Why?" "Well, everything you've done in the last year. How strong you were. There were times when you kept me going boy. A hug just when I needed it. Telling me you loved me. I know you're growing up and that's going to happen less and less. Last summer was hard, boy. Real hard. You know, we almost didn't make it, you and me. I thought for a while that I'd really screwed it all up for good. Every time I looked at you with that black eye, I just wanted to crawl in a hole somewhere." "That wasn't your fault dad." I said. "Well, I sure didn't help matters, boy... Billy... Your mom... Sometimes she worries about you. She doesn't know about Brett and his dad. She doesn't know what you boys went through together last winter. She's afraid that you're... Well... That you're getting too close to Brett." "What do you mean by that, dad?" Suddenly my ears were starting to get really hot, the way they do when I feel nervous or scared. "Well... Moms are naturally suspicious about boys. She thinks you're still eight years old and you don't know a thing about sex or anything like that. Well, you and I talked about that before. I don't go blabbing to your mother everything you tell me. She wouldn't understand. I never told her about the time I walked in on you... you know... playing with yourself." "Yeah," I said. God, this was embarrassing! I was kind of hoping he forgot about that. "But like I said, moms are naturally suspicious. She wants you to stay that little eight year old forever. But I know that's not going to happen. I know that you're growing up. All I'd say is, be careful. Okay? Don't confuse companionship with love. Sometimes you can be so close to someone that you think you love them. But when you get right down to it, maybe it's just curiosity. I don't want you to get hurt, boy." I didn't answer. Just when I thought I had it all finally figured out... Just when I thought I finally knew what it was I was feeling... Just when I thought I had the answers, dad threw me a curve ball. How did I know that I really loved Brett? I mean, really, really loved him? Was it just companionship? Was it curiosity? How could I be so sure of what I was feeling yesterday, and then be so confused today? Mr. Nicholson returned with lunch. I spent most of the rest of the afternoon in deep thought. I replayed the events of the past year over in my mind; The fight with dad. The day my grandma died. The trip to Bedford. My birthday party when Brett blew up. The kiss at the park. The many kisses we'd shared since then. The sleepover with Dustin. It all came back to me. I wondered, how well did I really know myself? Am I in love with Brett? Do I even know what love is? How could I know the answers when I didn't even know who I was anymore? At 5:00, we left the Nicholson's and started our drive home. "You're awfully quiet, boy. That's not like you. Are you feeling okay?" "I'm just thinking." I answered. Yeah, thinking about just who in the world Billy Roberts really is. I realized I couldn't answer my questions, because a part of me was missing. Brett couldn't come home soon enough. That's it for chapter six. Chapter seven, The Battle for William Roberts, is ready to go. You're either going love it or hate it. Brett comes back, Billy makes a mess of things, and the story takes a turn in a new direction. Send email if you want to know more! Heck, Send email anyway! vicioussquirrel@hotmail.com Oh, and For those of you wondering if I've got any other stories out there, the answer is... not yet!