My Dads draft 14
by Jon Hold
Copyright ©2015 by the Author
Jonhold@earthlink.net
As I dozed off, Dad and Garrick carried me over to the bed and laid me down, covering me with the warm, fuzzy blanket and each of them kissing my lips as I slid off into the land of nod.
%%%
When I woke a short time latter, I could feel that I was alone in the silent cabin. My bladder was full and had woken me up with the pressure. I dragged myself up and went out back. As I stood there in the warm afternoon sunshine with my hands on my hips, arching my thin yellow stream into a bush, I heard some odd, dull sounds that sounded like they were coming from the barn. Finishing my pee, I wandered over that way to see what was making the sound.
The big double doors of the barn were closed but a smaller, man-sized door was standing open. As I walked through the door I heard a loud smacking sound. I quickly stepped to the side and stood quietly in the deep shadow between the open door and the wall of the barn.
The bright sunlight came through the door and illuminated a medieval scene in the middle of the barn. My Uncle Patrick seemed to be in some distress. He was standing somewhat awkwardly. I think this was caused by him being bent over a tall sawhorse with his feet tied to the 4 x 4 legs. His chest was laying on the top board of a short stall that looked like it had been built for goats or a Shetland pony. His arms were lying on top of the board too. Held in place by three ties of heavy rope at each wrist and just above and below his elbows. The oddest thing though, or at least the most interesting to me, were the three horseshoes tied by about a foot of that prickly binder twine to my uncles balls.
My Dad was standing behind him with an odd shaped board in his right hand. The board looked like it was made out of some heavy, dark wood. About three feet long and eight inches wide and maybe an inch thick. A handle had been carved into the end of it and some more wood must have been glued to the handle because it was so big around that it completely filled my dads hand, which means it was probably too big for most people to hold onto with one hand. The wood had a luster that looked like much polishing and there was carving all over the flat part of the board, but I was too far away to see what the carving was.
Uncle Patrick had a really hairy butt crack that I was trying to scope out, but then my dad started talking.
"Did you want to embarrass and hurt your son, Patrick?"
Uncle Patrick started to answer but Dad's arm shot out like a snake striking, ignoring the weight of the board in his hand. The board connected with a loud WACK on Uncle Patrick's exposed butt, driving his middle and chest across the rough boards and setting the horseshoes to swinging.
"I wasn't asking Patrick. I was telling. Shut the fuck up!"
"Dammit Karl. Not in front of the boy. Not in front of my son!"
WACK. "Why not Patrick." WACK! "Afraid it might embarrass you?" WHACK. "Were you worried about embarrassing him in front of his best friend?" WHACK! "Were you worried about embarrassing his best friend?" WHACK!! "Did you care about breaking your word to your son?" WHACK!!! "What's the matter, Patrick?" WACK. "Cat..." WHACK. "got..." WHACK! "your..." WHACK!! "tongue?..." WHACK!!! WHACK !!! WHACKKKK!!!
"Are you listening now Patrick?" Whack! "Have you quit jumping to conclusions and running your mouth?" WHACK! "CAN..." WHACK!! "YOU..." WHACK!! "HEAR..." WHACK!! "ME!" WHACKKKKK!!!!
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Dad just stood there waiting again, like nothing had happened. Just waiting. Scared me, but I was more afraid of making a noise and being noticed. Uncle Patrick didn't make any noise. He was breathing pretty heavy and his butt was bright red under the dark hair.
In a much softer, more collected voice, my dad started talking to his younger brother again.
"Patrick. I'm going to ask Garrick to talk to you. To tell you what you did to him. And I want you to listen. I want you to be quiet and listen very carefully. You might just learn something very important to both of you."
"Garrick. Please come here." my Dad asked.
Wide-eyed, Garrick quickly walked over to my Dad. When he got close Dad put his free arm over Garrick's powerful teen-age shoulders.
"Garrick. I know you're a little bit scared and confused right now. That's OK. Sometimes you have to be pretty emotional to tell the real truth. This isn't just about today is it, Garrick? This has been building up inside you for a while hasn't it?"
"Well..., Yes, Sir."
"That's OK, Garrick. I think I understand. Now I want you to listen to me really carefully, Garrick."
With a gulp, a really strained voice came from my new cousin, my Brother, "Yes, Sir. I'll listen."
"I'm not mad at you, Garrick. Hell, I'm not even mad at your Dad. I'm just upset that you two are growing apart. That you're not talking clearly to each other. Right now, I've adjusted your dad's attitude so that he's willing to listen. I want you to forget the old business, Garrick. I want you to talk to your Dad. I want you to tell him how you feel. How he made you feel today. What's inside of you. Do you understand."
"Yes, sir. I think so."
"Good enough. As you get going you'll get focused better. Now take this paddle..." and Dad handed Garrick the big paddle. Garrick took it and almost dropped it, the handle was too big for Garrick's hand and all that weight pulled the paddle loose. Garrick grabbed it with both hands just before it hit the ground.
"Got it now?"
"Yes, Sir."
"OK. Use both hands to get a good grip on the handle. I had your Dad build it to fit my big paw and you just haven't grown into it yet I guess."
"Dad made this?" Garrick asked.
My dad nodded his head, "You bet Garrick. He made it for me so we could have these little talks. Your dad's always been a little hard of hearing when he gets excited."
"Yes, Sir."
"OK. Now turn around like this. I want you to talk to your Dad about today, and I want you to use this paddle to keep his attention."
"Uncle Karl, I can't hit him with this."
"Why not?"
"Well... I mean... Well... Well... he's my Dad, Uncle Karl. I can't hit him with this."
"Garrick. Let me make this easy for you. Either you start whacking your Dad with that paddle--or I'll start whacking you with that paddle. OK?"
"Yes, Sir!"
Garrick pulled the paddle back and took a swing at his dad's butt. Sorta'.
"You play baseball in school, Garrick?" my dad asked.
"Yes sir."
"Your coach ever show you how to put your shoulder into a swing?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, you better start putting a little shoulder into your swings or you and I are going to have to have a coaching session. Understand?"
"Yes, Sir! I'll lean into it, Uncle Karl."
A bigger windup and swing and, CRACK! Uncle Patrick just about went over into the stall.
"Again boy!"
CRACK!
"Again"
"Unh," CRACK!
"Again"
"Unhhhh," CRACK!
"Again!"
"Annunhhhhh!," WACK.
"Again!"
"Agggggnhhh..." WHACK!
Tears were pouring down Garrick's face as his spanked his dad--harder--and harder.
"Again boy!"
"Aggghhhhhhhh! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!!
"Talk to him, Boy."
"Why, Dad?" Whack!
"Why did you hurt me?" WHACK!
"I was trying to find the love you won't give me any more..." WHACK!!
"...and you hurt..." WHACK!! "...Me..." WHACK!!! "...and..." WHACK!!! "...my Friend!" WHACK!!!! ...... WHACK!!!! ..... WHACK!!!!
***
I don't want to tell the rest of this. It hurts me inside and makes me remember my first father. Garrick got madder and madder and kept yelling at his dad and pounding on his ass until....
***
Garrick dropped the paddle and dropped to his hands and knees as his anger went over the top and the pain and hurt in his heart poured out in deep, gulping sobs. He fell sideways, leaning his back and side against his dad's leg and the leg of the sawhorse. Grasping his dad's thigh in his arms he sobbed against his dad's leg. "Why don't you love me any more? What did I do wrong? I just wanted you to be proud of me. Why don't you hold me like you used to any more? What did I do wrong, Daddy? What did I do wrong?"
My throat was swollen shut and my eyes burned with tears. Garrick's dad had hurt him like my first dad had hurt me. I wanted to rush to him and make it all better but I couldn't move. It's like the pain had me frozen in place.
My dad went over to Garrick and took him in his arms. Garrick began the deep racking sobs of a man in mortal pain against my fathers chest. "Oh, Daddy. Why don't you love me any more?" he sobbed.
Dad sat down in the dirt covering the barn floor and just held Garrick, letting him cry all the pain out.
After a while, Garrick quieted down and Uncle Patrick started to say something.
"Shut up, Patrick. Haven't you done enough damage for one day?" harshly came from my dad.
"Joey, come here!"
SHIT! How the hell did he know I was here?
"Now, Joey!"
Apprehensively I walked over to them. Dad stood up, still holding Garrick.
Dad looked at my tear-stained face. "You OK, Joey?" he gently asked.
I just nodded.
"OK. I don't believe you, but you'll do for now. Your brother needs you, Joey. Take him to the shower house and get him cleaned up. Can you take care of him for me, Joey?"
"Yecksk..." I cleared my throat a couple of times. "Yes, Sir. I'll take care of him. I'll get him in some warm water and massage him real good. That'll make him feel better."
"Thank you, Joey."
"Garrick. Garrick! Let go of me now. Go with Joey. Joey will take care of you for right now, OK?"
Garrick stumbled back from my Dad.
"Go with Joey, Garrick. Joey will take care of you for a little bit. OK?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Garrick?"
"Yes, Sir?"
"I love you, Garrick. And so does your Dad. You go with Joey now while your dad and I work this out, OK?"
"OK, Uncle Karl."
"Come on, Garrick, let's go get cleaned up." I said as I led the zombie-like Garrick away.
As I led Garrick out the door I heard his Dad start thrashing around in his bindings, yelling at my dad: "Fuck you. Let me go to my son."
"What son, asshole? The one you like to hurt?... What? Do you want to kick him in the balls, or do you want to cut them completely off?"
There was a loud commotion as Garrick's dad tried to get loose and we froze, staring at the barn.
"Beat my ass or let me go you son-of-a-bitch!" Patrick roared.
"No. Either way would be too easy for you Patrick. You just stay here and think for a while. Maybe that Irish-German head of yours will be able to think of something besides your dick for a change.
A few seconds latter my dad walked out the barn door and out into the forest. I put my arm around Garrick's waist and lead him off to the shower house.
± ± ± ± ±
One of my favorite jokes is that I'm `Emotionally exhausted and morally corrupt'. It's kind of my way of saying that I'm tired beyond tired. That's sort of how Garrick was when I got him to the wooden shower house. And that's really polite cuz I don't want to say he was acting like a zombie. I figured "What the Hell," sometimes brothers just have to take care of their brothers. And besides, I was really kind of worried about him. He'd been through some real shit today, and I didn't even know the whole story.
I sat Garrick on the wooden bench (of fond memory) and began unbuttoning his shirt. I was one of those big, loose stylish shirts so I didn't have any trouble sliding it off over his shoulders, broad as they were. He was wearing a really cool "No Fear" t-shirt under his baggy shirt that fit his tight torso like a second skin. It was faded and looked like it had been a favorite shirt of his for years. I peeled it up over his waist and belly and rolled it up under his armpits. To get leverage I straddled his legs and sat my bare bottom on his rough black jeans. I reached over his shoulders and levered the back of his t-shirt over his head, ending up with two rolls of soft cotton pining his arms together and forward. As I started to move back and pull his t-shirt down his arms, he closed them around me and lightly stroked my back.
He leaned his head forward a tiny bit and briefly kissed me on the lips. So softly I could barely hear it he said, "Thank you for taking care of me," and tears welled up in his eyes.
I blushed and said, almost as softly, "Hey, no problem--Brother!" Then I moved back through his limp arms and pulled the body-warm t-shirt off over his arms. I gently leaned him against the smooth redwood wall and picked up his baggy shirt off the floor. I hung both shirts carefully from wooden pegs in the wall, reaching up on tip-toe to reach them.
I went back over and knelt before him and began unlacing his right boot. What a neat feeling. Kneeling on one knee before a boy that, even though I'd never even seen him before today, felt like he was the brother I'd always wanted. As I undid the laces of his tall boots I began to realize that Garrick was really important to me. Like we'd been raised together and taken care of each other ever since birth. I suddenly stopped and looked up at him as I realized how much having Garrick for a brother meant to me and how much I already trusted him. Here I was on my knees in front of him and I didn't feel like a servant or anything. I felt like a Big Brother taking care of a Little Brother wounded on a battlefield, even if Garrick was two years older than me. I felt heat pouring out of me and was nearly overwhelmed by the strong feelings welling up out of me.
I turned my head back down to my work, my small, strong fingers continuing almost automatically with their task as tears of pure emotion blurred my vision. Once I had the laces loose I tried to lift his leg with one hand and pull the boot loose with the other, but it was too tight. I stood up and gripped his calf between my legs and used both hands to try and pull the boot loose. I wasn't having much luck when Garrick lifted his other foot and gently put the cleats of on the sole of his other boot against my bare butt. As he began to push I let go of his leg and held on tightly to the boot in my hands. Together, we got the boot off easily.
I turned to him, and held the boot aloft triumphantly and laughed, "We did it!" I leaned down and put the boot on the floor and then put my hands on his thighs and gave him a loud smack on the lips, "Together, we can do ANYTHING" I boasted.
With a little, almost sad, smile on his face he said, "Yeah. ------Brother!"
God could have seen me swell up with pride. I leapt on him, throwing my arms around his neck and plastering my naked warm form to his bare chest and belly. "You mean that for really and truly? I'm like a real brother for true?"
He put his arms around me and held me tightly to his warm chest as he looked thoughtful for several heart-stopping seconds. "No..." (my heart did stop) "not `like a real brother'." And he stopped for a few seconds, proving beyond all doubt (you reading this Garrick?) that he's a vicious, thoughtless, gruesome sadist of the worst sort, or at least an awful tease.
"Not `like a real brother' at all Joey. You ARE my for really and truly brother. My only brother that I love very much."
I just sat there in shock. "For really and truly?"
"For really and truly and forever and forever!"
He held up his right hand to me, fingers closed and baby finger crooked.
"Brothers?" he asked.
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