Uncle Albert

It was about twenty minutes past what I considered late, too long. I periodically checked my watch, bouncing my foot. Then after five agonizing minutes, it was a boy.

“Congratulations! You’re a father.”

That condescending remark of this doctor wasn’t enough to bring down my mood. I was ready to jump off my shoes. I picked up my phone and did the first thing that came to my mind.

“Hey Dad, it’s a boy!”

“Okay.”

“Dad. I’m a father!”

“Yeah.”

“Dad, did you not hear me? I’m a Dad.”

There was a strange rustling in the background. Something wasn’t right. Almost as if Dad was ready to ground me or something.

“You’re mother is in the hospital”

“What! Is she okay?”

“Yeah she’s fine.”

“Why is she in the hospital?”

It seemed like those seconds my Dad took to respond were longer than waiting for my unborn child.

“Son. Remember that thing you always wanted as a kid?”

“You got me a new bike?”

“It’s a boy.”

His name was Albert. He was a gift from the heavens at such an inconvenient time. I couldn’t believe that after all these years, my parents decided to have sex. We all went back to my parent’s house. Me, my Mom, my Dad, my son, my girlfriend and Albert all sat in silence. My son started crying, triggering Albert to respond louder as if it was a challenge. My girlfriend went to tuck in my son and Albert. That night, I interrogated my Mom and Dad until morning. I was never the type of son to ask first.

“I was only gone a year.”

“I’m sorry son. We were going to tell you. But we were waiting for your call. You never even told us where you went off to.”

It was true. I wrote only once those long tortuous twelve months. After getting my girlfriend pregnant, my relationship with Mom and Dad has been sour at best. They had no reason to be proud of me. Like I had no reason to be proud of myself. We let the issue sizzle out and after a while it was the same as talking about the unwashed dishes stacked up in the sink and who was going to finally clean them. Who gives a shit.

So, uncle Albert would grow inch by inch, as did my son. They were more brothers to each other than I was to Albert. They both referred to me as Elder Paul, despite not being Mormon for about a decade or so. Uncle Albert would be known as Uncle Albert by everyone, even his friends. My son would be known as, well, uncle Albert’s nephew. I watched them fight, play, excel. Must have been nice. Although I noticed that my own son was in his uncle’s shadow, I couldn’t help to think that he saw Albert as more of a father than me.

My son would go to school one day, like every weekday, and tried pinning pencils to the styrofoam ceiling. Why he did this? Well I asked him and all he could say was how funny it was. I guess it was kind of funny. I could see myself do something similar. I felt like I needed to be a father but I couldn’t bring myself to discipline my child, so it became another dish on the pile.

Albert would already be taking Calculus. I never took Calculus. Well, all the way I mean. I don’t really remember college as much as my girlfriend. She took precalculus. My son could barely pass his classes, but what he lacked in smarts, he made up with raw muscle. He was a unit. Complete with social smarts rather than book smarts. He was Albert’s foil.

Albert and Rich. Sometimes I forget that’s what I named him. Would go into K-12 education with their chest pushed forwards. One time, Albert was being pumbled by books used as ammo by the local bullies. Rich would then use himself as a shield and then, like a terminator or a conan barbarian, started walking towards the hail of books fired at him. This scared the shit of the would be tough guys as they would ran off into the distance.

As Albert began to read those books rather than being target practice for them, his brain began to fill with fancy twenty dollar words like synonymous or cretin. Although Albert could not defend himself physically against an onslaught of projectiles, he sure could spit some out his mouth in form of words. He became an oralitor, a fine wordsmith. As people feared Rich would punch them out cold, other kids would fear Albert for insulting them cutting deep past their skin and permanent psychological damage. My boys. Well. My son and my brother, were both dangerous men.

They grew up faster by the second. I blink and I am already at graduation. Or whatever middle school transition is called. My boys. Well. My brother and son. They had become a dynamic duo. Attached at the hips. Almost like they were actually brothers. Without a father.

Seeing my brother and son have such a good time in high school, made me get out my own high school yearbook..It still felt new as the day I got it. My only two signatures were of my parents. If I were not credited at the end of the index, you would have never known I existed. I couldn’t believe it. As my brother got put on the president’s honor roll and my son received a letter from the president for being such a good football player, I threw up daily.

“Hey Dad. Are you okay?”

I looked back and it was my son. He looked like a million dollars ready to dunk my head into the toilet.

“I’m fine son.”

“Is it okay if me and uncle Albert go to prom this weekend?”

“Yeah sure whatever.”

“Okay. Are you sure you’re okay Dad?”

“I’m fine!”

“What’s wrong Dad?”

“What’s wrong? What do you know about what’s wrong.”

“Dad?”

“You want to help me? Leave me alone. That’s how you help me.”

I got another knot in my belly. I couldn’t believe I was yelling at my own son. Naturally his door slammed. The apartment felt cold and collective. I drove to Mom and Dad’s that afternoon.

“Hi Mom.”

“Paul! Oh my baby! Come in! Honey. Paul’s home!”

The house looked new and refurnished, as if everything I leave behind turns to an anti midas touch. Albert came out of my room and looked up at me.

“Hello Elder Paul.”

“You know you don’t have to call me that.”

“I know. I’m fond of it.”

Dad came to my rescue. Albert went back into my room.

“Hey son. What brings you here?”

“Dad, I need your help.”

“With what? What’s going on son?”

I looked into his eyes. But after a while, I didn’t even notice he hugged me hard.

“Oh son. I will never be disappointed in you!”

My heart melted into butter. I couldn’t hear such words without tumbling like bricks. I went back home. I needed to apologize to my son, but my girlfriend was the only one home.

“Where were you! I was calling you!”

“I was at my parent’s house. Where’s..?”

I didn’t really hear her say the next line, all I remember after was driving on the road again to find my son.

I put up flyers the next morning. My heart became cold and hardened again. This time with a hint of blue. I didn’t want to lose him. I can’t lose him.

After three weeks and no sign of my son, I retreated to a corner and didn’t move out of that spot since.

My girlfriend would eventually get a spatula and pick me up like a piece of meat.

“Look, if you’re not going to his graduation, at the very least call them and tell them that you’re not going.”

I didn’t respond. I let my silence speak for itself. I let her pick me up like a baby and put the seatbelt on me like the child I was. I didn’t really fight it.

We were all there for Uncle Albert, the valedictorian. He had a long speech that didn’t really click into my ears because my stupid brain. All I could think about was my son. It was almost like I could see him running on the field yelling.

“Uncle Albert!”

And so, on stage, like a moment from a soap opera come to life, my brother and my son hugged each other and the auditorium roared.

Everyone threw their hats in the air. It was over. My son and my brother had each other and they also had me to support them throughout their lives, as did my Mom and my Dad for me.

My girlfriend, my Mom, my Dad, uncle Albert, my son and myself all grouped together at the end of the ceremony.

“Hey Elder Paul.”

“Yes Albert”

“How come you always talk so down about yourself?”

“Because I never realized what you meant to me.”

After the group photo, my son was kissed by a girl, the first time I seen her. He then held her hand and looked at me straight.

“Hey Dad, um, I don’t know how to tell you this without you getting mad at me again but this is Hasley and well. I mean.”

This girl interrupted him in the middle of his babble.

“Just tell him Rich.”

“She’s pregnant!”

Then my Dad opened his mouth as if he was feeling left out.

“That’s great Rich, us too!”

Another plate to the pile. Except this time, I wouldn’t mind cleaning it.