June 29th, 2012
I sit in my chair in the dead of night and stare at the computer. The screen light glows and sheds a light on my youngest son who has fallen asleep in my left arm. I can’t see his face, but I can count the strands of hair that have fallen perfectly into place along his hair line. I can’t see his mouth, but I can hear the sucking noise of him using his fingers to sooth himself to sleep. I can not see his eyes but I know they are as blue as the sky and if you look into them you can see heaven. He is sound a sleep but I can hear his laughter reverberate through my soul. His life is in my hands as my hands rubs his back. His heart is caught in my blood and will stay there as long is it is coercing through my veins.
I have to move. My arms is falling asleep, my body following suit. The tricky part is to up right the recliner, scoop him up and carry him to his part of the couch. I lean forward ever so gently, pushing the foot rest as hard as I can so it will slide into the pocket of the chair and lock into place.
“Bark!”
Shit, the foot rest hit the dog, who decided to lie underneath the open springs of the recliner. My son stretches his head back. His hair follicles hitting my bicep. I freeze. I whisper to my yellow Labrador.
“Sorry Champ. I didn’t mean to…”
He walked away not waiting to let me finish my heart felt apology. “Well, screw you too.” I said quietly, which made it pretty much ineffective.
I slowly lift my butt from the chair. My forward weight rocking it back.
“Slam!”
The back of the chair hit the wall. I close my eyes and suck in my breath holding it in… holding it… holding it… I peak one eye open at my son, who hasn’t moved from his arched position while he is resting in my arms.
“Sigh.”
I let the air out as my body deflates. My shoulders sulk downward. My head bowing down. The room is lit very lightly by the computer screen. I tip toe across the floor toward the couch aiming directly at the pillow.
“Whack!”
I kicked the damn toy truck that is sitting in the middle of the floor. I scream in my head. My mouth open wide. I push the air out in silent screams. I close my mouth and grind my teeth, feverishly rubbing my toes on the ground for some awkward comfort. I stretch my toes out and wiggle them hoping they aren’t broken. I cock my head to the right and breath in. I start back to the couch. I am only two steps away. Holding my son in my left arm still. I bend down and put the blanket back. It folds forward exposing his sheet like a runway I glide his body down towards it for a soft landing.
“Bang!”
I hit the back of his head on the arm rest. “ugh” I say under my breath. I place my hand behind his head rubbing my hand through his thick hair massaging his skull. Not a peep.
I finally land him not so quietly in his makeshift bed, I fold the blanket back over his body and tuck him in. I bend down and kiss him on his forehead, then raise up and stare down at him as I hover over him. I can only smile. These are my boys- I think to myself.
I smile at no one. It’s about the only time I’ll smile. “Too bad no one around to see it”, I mumble under my breath. My eyes leave my son and I glance out the window and stare at my neighbors outside light. I get lost in the brightness of it as the blackness shrouds the background. I am tired too, as a yawn escapes from me.
I turn towards my bed, the five foot couch for my seventy-four inch body, and make my way to my position to finally close my eyes. I reach out and close the computer that is resting on the chair beside my couch. I sit down and use my eyes to look up at the ceiling towards the sky. My stare holds for a moment until I swing my feet up and lay my bones on the couch.
“Ahhh” I let out the air from my chest. I feel so comfortable now. Ready to sleep. I pull the covers up to my neck and lay in my spot until the sandman comes and puts me down.
“Omph!”
My body wretches upwards. The air leaving my body. My knees pop and move towards my chest like I am performing a sit-up. I open my eyes and it is my son. He landed on my stomach in his leap from the other couch. I lay back down and my son settles in on my left arm.
I look at my son but there is no light to see him, my computer is closed. “You could’ve save me the trouble you know." I whisper to him in his ear.
Silence.
I’ll take it.
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Christopher Fusaro. The author of Captain Imperfecto.
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