Spoiler! :
It was an early Saturday afternoon. The sky was clear and there was a movie John had long planned to take Eli out to see. Only before realizing he had obligations to uphold. Perhaps the thing John loathed most about working for his father was the amount of pressure he put on him to complete tasks. Of course, it wasn't the only thing he loathed about his father, but it was one of the most irritating down the list.
In his office, which stood just further down the hall from his bedroom and nearest the staircase, John concentrated strictly in hopes to finish up a few final drafts his father had requested of him to "elaborate" on. He frowned as he worked, for he could hear the cheerful noise Eli made as he played by himself outside. He hoped to be done soon to join him, but the chances of that became slimmer and slimmer as the distraction grew from the sounds of fierce play.
The giggles came louder as Eli found a route to John's attention. As he glanced over at the large glass window beside his drafting table, he could see tiny, orange air-gun darts being shot onto the balcony. Easily distracted, he stepped out to ask Eli to stop.
"Dad's busy working, buddy. Why don't you shoot those somewhere else, alright? I'll be down as soon as I can to join you, I promise."
Defiant, he shot a few more orange darts at the balcony before running off to some other part of the back yard. John smiled just the slightest before taking his seat back at the large drafting table he'd been sitting at for the past hour and a half. He was sad to see how his work consumed him so when he was still so young. When he could be in the backyard now, playing with his little boy. It hadn't always been exactly that way, and only with great reluctance did he return to his task. But once again, distraction gave way to his better senses.
"Ay!" came a shout from down below on the first story. "Mijo, no! Ay no!" she yelped.
By the worried pitch in Linda's voice he could tell something had happened. Only as to what he wasn't sure.
"M-Mr. Mason!"
John slumped sluggishly out of his seat and begun his way downstairs. Lately Eli had become the biggest handful for Linda. He hoped whatever had gone wrong wouldn't be worth the punishment of a time-out. He was never good with those kinds of things.
"Linda?" he asked calmly as he made the last few steps off the stairs and into the livingroom.
By the sliding back door stood the frantic Hispanic woman, waving her hands at John to head over to where she was. She was struggling to hold Eli by the collar of his shirt as he attempted to squirm away.
"Mr. Mason, su hijo! Mira! Look what he did!"
In a much quicker pace, he headed over to where they both were, taking his son gently by the arm to cool his squirming ways. "Easy, easy, what's going on?" he asked Eli first, then again as he raised his attention back to Linda. "What's the matter?"
The woman's eyes showed much surprise as she cupped her mouth with one hand and pointed out to the backyard with another. "Over there, he play with that!" she muttered quickly in her half-broken English.
John couldn't see exactly what she was referring to, so he stepped out to follow her to the place she was pointing at. He kept Eli's hand firmly in his as they walked, and John soon discovered the gruesome sight that laid there on the grass before him. A dead crow; its feathers frazzled. He could see one point near the left wing where a pointed object stuck out from it's side, and a small amount of blood trickling out from the pierced wound.
"He play with this! He tush it, señor! I swear to jou!"
Disturbed by the sight, John looked away and down at his son who still held the black dart gun in his hand. Out of impulse he took the plastic toy from him. It made a metally sound as it shook in his grip.
"Did you touch that dead thing, Eli?" His tone was much harsher than usual, causing the boy to resist from his father's hold. "Look at me did you-. ."
While attempting to scold his son for what he'd done, his attention came back to him as he'd shaken the toy gun more roughly in his hand. Paying closer attention, he rattled the gun downward until a grey metal object fell from its barrel. He bent down to see that it had been a sharp nail that shook in the hole.
His eyes returned to his pouting son in disbelief. "Did you shoot at the bird!? -No, look at me, Eli."
Eli squirmed patheticly in John's grip, ignoring his question and doing his best to lean away. Meanwhile, Linda was busy gasping in horror at the terrible sight.
"Tell me the truth. Did you do this!?" he asked again.
"Let gooo," Eli cried.
"Don't lie to me," he said attempting to be more calm so that his son wouldn't fight his authority. But it was to no prevail. "Come, on," he begun frustrated, "let's get inside. I think someone's in trouble."
"I think" was exactly right. He wasn't sure what to think. His mind wasn't in it to focus on his son shooting nails at birds, because he could never picture Eli misbehaving to cruelly.
As he begun walking back in the direction of the house, Eli started to tug away at John's hold again. This time in a much stiffer way; his free arm reaching out to the dead bird.
"Eli what's wrong with you? Stop it."
His tugging grew tougher and John found himself having to use his other hand just to keep Eli from reaching for the disease-ridden bird. Though his tiny arms managed to slip free from John's grip, and he soon went reaching for the crow in success. The moment his tiny fingers had touched down on the dark creature, its filthy wings flapped crazily as it fluttered to sudden life.
Linda gasped in startlement. "Oh dios mío! No!"
It cawed in her face twice before flying roughly over the yard fence. The startled Latina woman went darting into the house for safety. John was quick to snatch his son up. When he did he quickly took him back into the house as well.
"What are you doing!? Look at me," he ordered after placing the small boy on the counter top in the kitchen. Better to be at eye level and where Eli couldn't easily escape his attention. "Where'd you find those nails?"
He stared blankly into John's eyes, unanswering. John grabbed the Purel on the counter and began rubbing the boy's hands quickly with it to erase the germs he was sure had been encountered through such a filthy touch.
"You don't shoot things at animals. Not even toy darts, you hear me? That's bad."
Eli's frozen composure suddenly melted away as his bright blue eyes began to fill with tears. For a moment John forgot why he was even standing here yelling at him so fiercely. He was just five years old and didn't know any better. It could've all easily been an accident and he was jumping to the worst conclusions.
"Look at me," he said in a much calmer way, now searching for his boy's less fearful side. Even in the worst situations John had never took to yelling at his son. A part of him began to blame his own stress, and the agrivating burdens work had dealt him. "I'm sorry for yelling at you. . . But you know that's wrong, don't you?"
Eli was again absent of words. Although, the tears that had developed in his eyes brimmed slowly over. The glossy look of his sorry face made John feel all the more angry at himself for not being more rational about things.
"No more playing outside today. You can go-. . . do a puzzle in your room. Color. Something."
He watched for a response. Eli lightly nodded while brushing the tears away from his cheeks with his small hands. John lifted him back up into his arms for a short squeeze before setting him back down onto the floor. Eli turned once to hug his father's leg before walking away, then he was gone.
Close-by in the living room, Linda sat still staring at John with horror filled eyes. She stood up to mutter something frightened in Spanish, but John hardly understood her.
"El cuervo, son una señal. El niño ha maldecido a muerte sobre mí! Oh dios mío."
Her words were too quick to attempt to translate, but John didn't need to know what she was saying to tell she was distressed.
"Uh. . . lo siento, Señora. I apologize for how he acted. Please, take the day off."
The dark-faced woman found her purse quickly beneath the coffee table and shakily came towards John with her hand held close to her chest, as if recovering from a trauma.
"Bad luck, Mr. Mason. No good -no bueno. I see you ness' week. . hofully."
She quickly strode past John and in the direction of the font door. "Monday?" he asked to confirm, but received no clear answer, just simple waves of the woman's hands as a gesture showing her hurry to leave. The stress of his day had been thrown up several notches in a matter of moments, yet he still had so much work to try and focus through before the day came to a close.
He started making his way back up to where his work awaited him. Taking a single glance through the open doorway to his office, he knew he wouldn't have the mindset to focus properly just yet. His thoughts remained glued to Eli. He continued his way down the hall to the half-open doorway of his little boy's bedroom. It held a much friendlier environment inside. One John knew he wouldn't mind spending some time in for a moment.
On the wood floor sitting near a corner, John noticed Eli. His back was to him, and his head hung low in a manner he took for sadness. He hoped he hadn't yelled at him too hard, but better to check for himself and fix whatever tension was left after such a scolding.
He came in quietly, about to call his son's name when he intercepted the familiar sounds of tiny mutterings. It wasn't until he got closer that he could make out a sound or two, and even then it seemed nothing more than jibbered baby talk. 'Ayote. . parm. . eh. . scum. . beyreh. . .', is what John faintly made out. It was far too whispered to tell though, and he continued as if entranced, without notice to his father's presence.
"Sic pater. . Sic pater. . Sic-"
"Eli?"
The dark-haired boy startled John by twisting around abruptly. John dropped down to his knees to look the child in his eyes. They appeared drowsy and unfocused, yet blue as ever, which settled him some.
"You. . . feeling okay, buddy?"
Eli stood to reach for a red truck that lay toppled by John's shoe. "Yeah, daddy."
Though he appeared preoccupied enough, he had the toughest time believing he was alright. He exited his room and headed down the hall to pull out his cell. Scrolling down the list of contacts, he dialed in his brother, Matthew.
"Hello?"
"Matt, it's me."
"Hey there. What's up?"
John allowed a small sigh as his eyes drifted in the direction of his son's open door. "Uh- nothing. I was just calling to see if you were free tomorrow. Are you? Free?"
"Uhmm, sure. Yeah I'm free. Did you want to plan something? I haven't really seen you in awhile so we probably should," he laughed over the other end.
"Nothing too formal," John breathed into the phone. "I was thinking maybe we could take the kids out to the park or something. You know, so the boys can see Eli. He's kind of been alone this past week, even with just starting school. I think Cruze and Kellan would be good company."
"Yeah, I'm down for that. I'll let the boys know. Maybe we can hit a movie too. Get some ice cream. They'd love to see their cousin."
John smiled feeling more relieved he was actually taking the time out to set time away from work. It was a weekend after all. He couldn't stand to see Eli so distant in his own world as he'd lately been coming to seem. And his brother's boys were good kids. They'd have a great time together. They'd keep Eli busy tomorrow, and John would be able to catch up with his brother for once.
Life is full of hard times and good times. Lift your chin up, Ladies and Gentlemen.
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