Becoming a Man

            by Alex Mokhtari-Fox

 

            I stared down at the square cement outlines on the sidewalk as I headed home. Finally reaching my front walk way I stopped just to observe the front door. The rain drops trickled down my face as I reflected on the dreary somewhat depressing day. I could tell as I looked forward that it wasn’t going to improve and I hesitated but finally convinced myself to enter.

            I slid my key slowly and gently into the doorknob. With a click, a pop, and a turn I was inside. My mom was sitting near the front door by the telephone and I could see the concern on her face.

            “Alex, we need to talk, please come sit down,” and I did so in silence. “T is in the hospital. I’m not sure how to say this, but he’s not going to be coming home again…” Her eyes were swelled with tears and her shoulders drooped, she continued, her voice even more shaky than before. “He’s had an aneurysm and the doctors don’t know how long he has to live.” 

            The room fell quiet after my mother’s troubled words. I broke the silence but all I could think to say was a very pronounced “…What?” At the time I was more bewildered than sad. I sat in shock for a moment trying to make my seventh grade brain internalize what my mom had just said, but all I kept thinking was how I would never be able to see my stepfather alive again. I couldn’t believe it. My mom went on to tell me that we were going to leave for the hospital immediately, so she called down my brother and sister and we left.

            “When did this happen Mom?” my sister asked.

            “I found him passed out in our room just after you guys left for school.”

            Those words sent me spiraling back in time to that morning. My friend had left his jacket at my house and asked if I could bring it to him, and somehow that jacket ended up in my mom’s room. After finishing my morning routine, I rushed upstairs and grabbed it. I noticed my step dad appearing to be sleeping awkwardly with his legs off of the bed. I had no time to think about it or I would have been late, but I’ll always remember his face; he was sweating slightly right under his black curly hair line. Drool trickled from his mouth and one eye was half open revealing his brown, almost black pupil and the yellowish color around it. I knew he had been really sick so I didn’t want to disturb his rest, I walked out of the room without a second thought.

            I was overwhelmed with guilt and never told anyone what I’d seen that morning. What if I had told my mom? Maybe he’d still be alive. I cried to myself in my lonely, shameful corner of the car. As she drove, my mom told us how she held him and wept as she waited for the ambulance to come. I felt her sorrow on top of my guilt and even more tears swelled up into my eyes.

            Wiping my face and rubbing my eyes, I entered the hospital alongside my family and my sister’s best friend Blanca, who had come to our house after school with my sister. Finally I felt a little more connected to reality, but that feeling didn’t last long. When we walked through the door of his hospital room it was too much for me to take. He was a strong man, not only were his biceps huge but he had a very tough personality as well. Seeing him with tubes down his throat, a machine breathing for him, jerking his body like a door being slowly opened then slammed shut, and an IV in his arm was overwhelming. He appeared peaceful but with so many unnatural contraptions attached to him; it was almost like it wasn’t even T anymore. There was so much I wanted to say and apologize for. My family and I hugged and cried for hours in that hospital.

            The day before we had gotten into an argument, the subject of which I cannot now recall but my mom suggested we go play catch after I cooled down. I didn’t want to and I felt like being petty so I went, but I didn’t engage with him. Throw the ball. Catch the ball. That’s all that happened. For dinner he said he’d cook me a hamburger.

            “Now, isn’t that a good hamburger?” T asked.

            “Yeah, it’s pretty good,” I mumbled

            “Say thank you Poppy.”

            “Thank you.”

            “I don’t get a Poppy? You know I’m sorry.”

            “Thank you.” I repeated as I retreated to my room.

 

Staring at his vacant face, I was overwhelmed with regret. I love you Poppy, thank you Poppy, this is the best hamburger Poppy. Why couldn’t I have said that?

            I couldn’t look at him anymore. I sank into a chair, placed a hand over my eyes and I cried with more passion that I’d ever had in my whole life.  As my brow creased with anguish and my hands filled with tears, I felt an arm around my shoulder.  My bloodshot eyes met with an unexpected friend, Blanca.  I thought she was there mainly to give my sister support but we had known each other since kindergarten.  She took me out into the hall but I couldn’t bear to stand.  Almost falling backwards, my back met the hallway wall and I slowly slid to a seat.  She joined me on the floor

            “I’m sorry,” I yelped out through uncontrollable agitated breaths

            “It’s not your fault baby, its ok.”

            Those were the only words I needed to hear.  I instantly felt calmer.  Although my last interactions with my stepfather still haunted me thoughts some of the guilt had been lifted.  I stared down at the linoleum square that covered the hallway floors.  However with my new sense of calm came more thoughts.  Instead of thinking about the past my head was spinning off to how my future would be without T.  Will mom ever be happy again? What happens when we leave for college? I can’t just leave her alone.  A new fear arose. 

            In the midst of my contemplation, my sister and older brother left the room and joined us on the floor.  A look of exhaustion covered all of our faces.  We realized that we had all forgotten to eat.  Mom decided to stay and be alone with T while we headed to the cafeteria.  We ate in silence.  Nibbling bites of the dry chewy cafeteria food, I went on thinking.  By the end of the meal I had thought everything through a million times over, and felt completely devoid of emotion.  I had felt so hard for so long that now I barley felt at all.  Blankly staring down as I squished my plastic fork through the green dessert jello, I truly felt empty inside, a mere shell of a person. 

            We headed back upstairs, where we found that more family members and close friends had arrived.  They told us we better all wait in a side room away from “the patient” so they could finish doing whatever was left to do to his lifeless body.  Tears rolled down his sister’s eyes as she quietly gasped for air in the corner with her husband.  Kenny, a close friend of his, began to share happy stories about the time they had spent together.  For the first time that night I saw smiles come across the faces of my family members, each one reflecting on some good moment they had spent with T. 

A hot summer’s day sprang into my mind.  We were going on our annual family camping trip.  I wanted to do all the big man things one does on a camping trip, because after all I was nine years old so of course I was completely capable.  I was practically grown. We headed down to the lake to go fishing.

 “This year I wanna put the worm on the hook. Ooh and I wanna throw out the line,” I shouted with excitement.

“Well if you think you can do it, I’ll just show you once and then it’s up to you.”

Hours passed and I had only caught little dinky fish.  I was so disappointed in myself.  Plop. The ball went underwater.  A fish was hooked.  I sprang to my feet, trying to use all the power in my weak nine year old arms but this fish was strong. T put his arms over mine and we turned the reel together, then he released.

“I know you can get him in the rest of the way, just keep reeling it in.”

I struggled and strained until the fish was out of the water.  A foot and a half long catfish, nothing special to a fisherman but to me it was as if I had just caught a killer whale.  I was ecstatic.

“Quick, run back to camp and get the camera so we can get a shot of you next to your big catch,” T said urgently

I sprinted off in the direction of our camp.  Carelessly I tripped over a big rock and fell down a hard gravelly road.  My knee was bleeding profusely, and stung like hell but I couldn’t cry about it.  After all I was a man now; I had caught a big fish.  I jumped back up and kept on course to the tent.  I searched frantically but I couldn’t find the camera.  Again, I was disappointed.  Blood flowing down my leg, I walked back to the lake with my head hung low. 

“I couldn’t find the camera,” I said in a small voice

“Wow. Did you fall?  That’s bleeding a whole lot.”

“Yeah.”

“Were you crying? Is that why it took you so long to come back?” he said in a concerned tone.  

“No.”

“Wow you really are becoming a man, I’m proud of you.  Don’t worry about the camera, now we can tell everyone it was five feet long. It will be our little secret.”

I took one last look at the fish and we threw her back to be used as some other boy’s ticket to manhood.  He told the story of my big catch all night to whoever would listen, and the sense of pride in his voice left me with huge grin painted across my face.

 

I smiled quietly to myself but reality came crashing back.  The warm experience the memory gave me, made me feel twice as empty, knowing there were no more to come.  We sat for a long while more, crying and laughing about this man who none of us would see animated again.  Every minute took an hour as I watched the second hand on the clock turn.  I was emotionally drained and all I wanted was to sleep and forget about the events of the day.  All of a sudden, I felt horribly selfish.  A man lay in the room down the hall on his deathbed and all I could think about is how I wanted to go home.  What a little brat. 

“Excuse me” a nurse entered.  She asked to speak to my mom and T’s sister, in the hall alone.

My mom walked in, tears running down her face.  She managed to mutter out, “We can go back in and see him now.” Clutching her tight we walked back in as a family.  The friends who had come were gone now.  “Its time to say your goodbye’s kids, there is nothing more the doctors can do” 

I have never been religious and specifically not a Christian, but we all held hands, my step aunt and her family included, and prayed out loud for God to guide him to a better place.  I forgot my liberal Berkeley religion hating views in those moments because the image of him with momentous white wings flying in the clouds was all I could handle to accept after such a draining day.  It made up for seeing this strong character so helplessly plugged into a life-support system.  I imagined being wrapped in those powerful wings and telling him everything I wished I could of before he was so viciously struck down.

“I know this is hard, but you have to decide what to do with his organs and sign some paperwork,” the nurse announced in an empathetic yet cold tone, that doctors have somehow perfected.  To her he was just patient number whatever that she had to get out of her way before she could go home for the night but I appreciated her attempt at compassion.

“Well, I think we should donate his organs.  If he’s going to die why not let him save someone else?  You can’t use his heart though; he has had trouble with it in the past.” Everyone agreed with my mom’s proclamation.

“Ok, I’ll be right back with the paperwork,” she said in a hushed tone as she exited the room.

“I’m exhausted, and I don’t think I can bear to stay her any longer. You can handle the paperwork right?” my step aunt inquired my mom.

 “Yeah, that’s fine.”

We exchanged long goodbyes with our extended family and they headed off.  The nurse returned with the paperwork, directed my mom to a seat where she would be able to fill it out, then left the room once again.  Mom sat hunched over the papers sobbing.  I put a hand on her shoulder and she let out a wail, staring over at my stepfather’s face.  She returned to her paperwork, salty tear drops staining her signatures.  The nurse came back and collected the papers only this time she had a medal that was issued to organ donors that we still have on our mantel. 

“Ok well now that the paperwork’s taken care of I’ll let you guys spend a little more time with him.”

“Thank you.”

My mom walked over to his bed and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek; she muttered some words under her breath gave him another kiss and turned back to us.  “Would you like to say your goodbye’s kids?”

“Ok,” my siblings responded.  I asked my mom if I could have some privacy to say mine, and she agreed.

Alone in the room I looked down at him.  “I’m so sorry…about how I left things.  You know that I love you Poppy, and that was a pretty good hamburger.” Talking to his lifeless face was relieving and unsatisfying at the same time.  I physically told him what I wanted to say, but it wasn’t really him anymore.  I spread my skinny arms across his broad shoulders and hugged him, knowing it was the last time I would be able to.  My eyes swelled as I tried to fight back the liquid flowing slowly down my cheeks again but this time it was calm and sorrowful rather than overwhelming.  “I love you T…goodbye,” I returned to my family waiting in the hall.  They gave a couple farewell glances at a man who was special to each of them in his own way, that now they would have to find a way to live without. 

The car ride home was basically silent.  What was left to say?  I shrank into my corner once again, just waiting to get to the warm comfort of my blankets. 

At last we were home.  I dragged my feet across the dirty carpet to my room.  I slowly removed my shoes and stripped down to my boxers, then climbed into bed.  I looked up at the ceiling, as I feel slowly into a slumber thinking of T with those big white wings hovering over my bed.  My guardian angel.  I closed my eyes knowing that when I woke up, his presence would remain but life would never be the same.