Written by Christopher Van Dyke –
“I was gonna scare you but then had to break you up.”
Our father said this as if we had missed some big treat. “What were you two fighting about” he questioned as we passed between the shrubs, high stepping through the tall grass.
“Chris said you left us,” Todd blurted out with a scrunched nose as if he smelled something rotten. Following in dad’s wake he continued, “You did!” then turned on me, waggling his finger in my face, before I had a chance to respond.
I grabbed for his finger but missed. I vowed silently that next time I would get it and bend it all wrong.
Halting just shy of a patch of hot white moonlight, Dad probed, “Did you say that, Chris?”
Sensing shaky ground I mumbled something indiscriminate then diverted the question. “Is that where we are going in?” I pointed just beyond my father and into the light where a cobblestone path led to a very small recessed door.
At a quick glance it seemed downright dwarfish. Then I realized that most of it was hidden. There were little crooked stone steps that dropped the couple of feet to its landing, hiding the bottom third of the door.
Avoiding the bait, Dad asked again, “Is that what you thought? Did you think I left you?”
“No!” I said earnestly. Trying to find refuge in his earlier admission I suggested, “I was just trying to scare Todd.” I looked at Dad’s shadowy outline, then the house, then back to Todd, hoping I might find some inspiration to alter the conversation.
“Well,” he said, “You shouldn’t be scaring Todd.” He took a step closer to me and said, “We are a team. You understand?”
I stood, eyes now turned to the ground, and mumbled that I did. “Can we just go in now?” I asked, sounding more whiny than I liked.
“Hmmmph.” Dad blew threw his nose like a bull and reconfirmed, “No scaring your brother.”
“Yeah, okay,” I said and stood waiting to see if there was more to come.
“Does he get in trouble?” asked Todd.
“Nope. Come on,” he said, fully satisfied his duties had been obligated. Stepping into the light he paced quickly down the path and said, “I have things to show you…if you’re brave enough!”
“But dad!” Todd implored, most likely driven by the collection of scrubby leaves wreaking havoc in his pants.
“Todd, quit yer bitching,” Dad said in a sing song voice. “It’s over.” He then elbowed me, a signal allowing me to enjoy the joke. Understanding the matter was now closed, Todd grumbled a bit and followed. He took the few paces along the path until joining us at the top step that led down to the back door.
Standing between us Dad looked up and pointed at a trellis attached to the side of the home, “I had to climb up that, then had to reach over to that porch railing over there.” His hand jabbed the air in the direction of each crucial juncture. “That was a real stretch! There’s a window unlocked up there and I climbed in.”
“Whoah,” Todd said, casting off all grumpiness while lowering his voice as far as it would go, showing how impressed he was. He beamed at Dad and said, “I could never do that! Was it hard?”
“Not for me!” Dad laughed and made a creaking noise low in his throat as he drew back his arm into a classic bodybuilder pose.
I had never asked, but had always assumed, this bit of theater was supposed to conjure images of rocks being crushed or maybe twisting metal. Something dynamic and awe inspiring I am sure. We understood that the simple act of our Dad flexing, was worthy of sound effects, even ones self-produced and sketchy on relevance.
I smiled appreciatively. It really was a long way from that trellis to the porch, though all it did was serve as a reminder how scrawny I was. My earliest memories of Dad revolved around feats of strength, a sculpted body and his willingness to show off both. He was handsome, lean and strong and it was clear that the same was expected of us.
The bit of time that we now spent with him revolved around him testing our physical prowess followed immediately by plans to improve it. There were lots of nuanced discussions about biceps and pecs, pull ups, and bench pressing. All of which, for a boy built like a hungry stick figure, was a challenge. The sound effect produced when I tried to bunch some of my stringy flesh into a hard lump was that of a duck quacking. Once again, not entirely relevant but effective nonetheless.
“Now listen,” Dad said as he dropped his arm to his side. “Tom and I were here just last night and we saw some scary stuff. The worst was in the attic so I’ll save that for last.”
Tom was my Dad’s best friend. Ever since he had sauntered in to my father’s shop and asked him to “fix” an undamaged cigarette case filled with big ol’ fatties they had been best buds. A full fifteen years younger than my dad, Tom was his gateway to a young crowd. Teens that delivered on a debt Dad must have felt owed for his own missed youth. Before our move west, these teens were also my people as Todd and I were their mascots. A disheveled group of long haired children gathered precariously under my father’s wing, just like us.
I found most of these folks to be pleasant. I really did like Tom though and I felt the same from him. He was an easy laugher, rarely picked on me and was willing to show me his third n****e almost every time I asked. Tom was cool with me.
“What’s in the attic?” I asked, more curious than concerned.
“Can’t tell you,” Dad said. “I will say that it may be the scariest thing I have ever seen. You’ll see.” and then chuckled as if enjoying a secret joke.
Okay,” said Todd, leaving the layout of the night in Dad’s hands.
“Let’s go!” Dad said as he trundled down the few steps and opened the door allowing us to enter.
We spent the next hour touring the house as we made jokes, gamboled about, and admired the sheer size of the place. It was like nothing we had ever seen and comparing it to the thin shelled trailer we lived in was the theme of the night.
Dad put minimal effort in trying to convince us that we were supposed to be scared. If a yawn escaped us or we suggested that the house “seemed more damp than scary,” he would remind us of the horror that lingered above, but that was about it.
We did spend a fun, yet silly, five minutes humming beneath a large chandelier in the entrance way. We were trying, of all things, to make it sway.
“Tom and I hummed to it last night and made it move!” Dad proclaimed. “I am sure it was ghosts,” he added seriously. “We must have hit the right pitch to call them in.”
Todd and I eagerly hummed high and low in woeful harmonies while staring up at the shimmering collection of dangling glass. Dad directed us suggesting, “Higher! Now lower!” and we could not help giggling throughout. Each snort prompted him to chide us for not taking our task seriously.
After our failed attempts at ringing in the dead, we had races to the top of the dual staircase. As we stood by Dad’s side he counted down “3…2…1,” and the instant he barked, “Go!” we would dash across the massive foyer towards our goal. To balance Todd’s stubby stride with my lanky one, each successive race found Dad holding me back longer and longer before I was allowed to start. Ultimately, giving Todd the lead he needed to win.
After the arranged victory we decided to stay upstairs and search the bedrooms. After the second bedroom we noticed that each one had a strange collection of buttons on the wall that made no sense to Todd or I.
“What are these, Dad?” Todd asked.
“I think that’s an intercom,” he said, poking at them randomly as if to see if he could get it to squawk.
“We don’t need one of those in the trailer,” I joked. “We can yell from one end to the other easy enough.”
Then, as if suddenly inspired, Dad suggested, “Todd! I have an idea. How about you run down to the kitchen and see if you can find more buttons and we’ll see if we can talk?”
Todd looked up at him skeptically. “By myself?”
“Yeah! You can do it! You said you weren’t scared,” punching him lightly on the arm as if this somehow proved how brave he was.
“Alright,” Todd said without much enthusiasm, but added quickly, “You better not hide on me!” He shrunk a bit as Dad shook his head at the suggestion. “Can Chris come too?”
“Nope. I want him here with me.”
“Okay,” said Todd as he turned the corner and started down the long hall towards the staircase. He turned back to look our way as he dropped down the first step, then disappeared as he descended the closest wing of the staircase.
As soon as the soft shuffle of his steps receded to nothing, Dad turned to me and said, “Do you know why I wanted you here?”
“No,” I said hesitantly, picking up on the change of tone in his voice.
“I need to talk to you about something.” he said as he turned to face me looking thunderous, quickly shucking what was left of his easy demeanor. “You need to start sticking up for me!”
“Huh?’ I asked, confused.
“When your grandparents or your mom or anyone else in the family talks bad about me, you have to stick up for me!” he said. His heat and anger felt physical. The change was so quick I felt off balance. Looking up, even in the gloom of the night, I could see the whites of his eyes encircling his pupils.
“I do!” I said. “I really do!”
“So they talk about me?!?” he fired back, cutting me off as he started to circle the room as if caged.
“Well, no…I mean…I guess.” I stumbled about not knowing what was safe to say. There was always talk of my father. Why he never came to any family events, how long his hair was, the people he hung out with, how he had changed. Though I heard all of this, I was on the periphery, never involved, never asked an opinion. I had no power to change or divert the conversation. Besides, as angry as my dad could be, my grandma was no one to mess with either. I was pretty sure she was not upset with me at the moment and I wanted to keep it that way. Also, she gave me cookies, which was something Dad never did.
I had no idea that I was falling short and that a hard stand in my father’s defense was expected. I did not even realize this was my job. Feeling a strange mix of shame and anger, I felt the hot sting of tears and was instantly grateful for the darkness.
“We are a team!” Dad said for the second time that night and seemed to calm a bit as his pacing slowed. “I am on your side and you are on mine.” He stopped in front of me and looked down as if really looking at me for the first time that night. “You need to do this for me. It is the right thing and it will make you feel good!”
Not even sure what it was I was offering, or stopping to try and figure out of what he had just suggested, I blurted, “Yes! Yes! I…I can do that!” and took a quick swipe at my face with my forearm to drag away any tears.
We stood like that for a moment, in my second stand-off of the night, until we heard Todd call out, “You guys still there?!”
Dad shifted his gaze from me as he stepped towards the door and hollered out, “Did you find them?”
I heard Todd shuffling back down the hall, his voice dropping in volume as he got closer and said, “Yeah,” then turned the corner into the bedroom, “I hit every one of them but you guys never answered.”
“Well, nice try.” Dad said. “Don’t you think so Chris?”
“Yeah,” I croaked, walking past them feeling that all I wanted was to end the night.
“All right!” I heard Dad say as he shifted gears. “Who is ready for the attic?”
“Me!” Todd hollered then raced out of the room shoving me aside, though he didn’t know where to go any better than I did.
“Come on Todd,” Dad said, calling him back as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me in close. He laughed as Todd spun about to follow, then raced past us again.
“It’s no big deal, Chris,” he said. “We just need to stick together. That’s all.”
“I know.” I said, wrapping my arm around his waist, “I’m sorry. I’ll try.”
“Good,” he said, shaking me just a little and laughing again.
Todd had reached the end of the hall. “Where is it? Where’s the attic?”
“Right, here,” said Dad, stopping and opening a small door Todd had sped past while sprinting about.
“So guys,” he knelt down to us and whispered, “are you ready for this?”
Shaking off the last few minutes, I nodded as Todd jumped up and down eagerly saying, “Yep, yep, yep! over and over until I had to elbow him to quit.
“Alright then,” he said as he opened the door and started up the wooden steps that led to the grand finale.
Stepping from the hall and through the door to the narrow space of the stairway, I felt instantly claustrophobic. The expanse of the home below no longer seemed to exist. Not only did the walls feel too tight, but the air had a dry and dusty quality that instantly made my nose itch.
It was much darker than the hall we had just left. My hand reached out to trail along the rough wood that made up the passageway. Such a difference from one side of a door to another. It felt that we had slipped into a place separate and disjointed from where we had been just seconds before.
A chill crept up my spine. In those moments I considered that my father may actually have a true horror waiting for us at the top of those steps.
Turning my gaze upward, I could feel more than see the space that was opening around us. The air moved differently and the rap of our footsteps lost their sharp quality, deadening the higher we climbed.
Rising the last couple of steps to join Dad, I stopped next to him and tried to peer about, still feeling more than seeing. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the filtered moonlight that peeked through the papered windows they began to play tricks on me.
Every time I thought I could see a boundary to the space, a veil would lift and increase my range further. The room was magnificent in a way to which the lower part of the home could only aspire.
Massive in scope and wonderfully complex, the attic lay before us seemingly endless. The entire footprint of the house we had spent an hour combing through below lay before us in a bold, geometric landscape filled with murky light.
The collection of beams created a crosshatch pattern that made telling wood from mirage difficult. I felt a depth of appreciation for the house that would have been impossible had I only seen the finished surfaces downstairs.
“WHOAH!” Todd said, clearly finding the space as impressive as I.
“Yep, pretty cool.” Dad said. Then he slowly lifted his hand pointing out into the open space and stated, “And there it is. The scariest thing I have ever seen.”
This served to break our reverie and I asked, “What, where?” craning my neck to see what all the fuss had been about.
“Over there,” Dad said and I followed the direction of his hand to something surprisingly small lying about fifteen feet from us on the floor.
“A shoe box!?” Todd said with more than a hint of sarcasm.
He was right. There in the middle of the room was a brightly colored shoe box, very much out of place, and immediately suspicious.
“Not the box,” said Dad as he turned to us, “what’s in the box.” He put his hand on my back, gave me a gentle shove and said, “Go open it.”
“Huh uh,” I said, leaning back into his hand, making my body and the floor the perfect example of an obtuse angle.
“Go ahead, Todd,” he said making a second attempt. “I dare ya.”
“Uhhhhh…” Todd started out and finished by saying, “Is it really scary or just kinda scary?”
“Really scary,” Dad stated nodding his head for emphasis, “but I know you can do it.” Waiting a few seconds with no response, he laughed and said, “Come on guys, just go open it.”
Knowing that we would end up doing what he wanted, we both stepped towards the box. We shuffled along, taking a moment to look at each other just before we got to our little box of horrors.
Todd turned to me and asked, “You gonna open it?”
“Nope.” I said “Go ahead.”
A look of resignation settled in Todd’s eyes as he reached down to lift the lid off the box. Deep down he knew, of everyone there, he was least likely to hold sway over anyone. Youngest, shortest, lightest, and yet in the end, the bravest of us all.
He settled into a squat as I peeked over his shoulder and waited. In a swift movement the tips of his fingers flicked the lid away. Not stopping he allowed the momentum to carry his hand quickly away from the now exposed contents.
It was a turd. It stretched from one end of the box to the other and lay bent as if grinning up at us.
We both erupted with a loud, “Ewwwwwww!!!!” and backed a step away, never removing our eyes from the offending loaf.
Dad heaved with laughter behind us. He let out a “Whooo Hooooo!” that filled the large space. It got us to break away and turn to look at him.
“Did you poop in a box?” I asked him, floored by the logistics of the feat and impressed at the willingness to admit to the deed afterward.
Dad shook his head and doubled over with laughter, unable to speak. “Did you find it?” Todd wondered aloud, then started to laugh himself. That along with all of Dad’s snorting got me giggling too.
I imagined someone finding a turd in a box, then deciding to carry it around until it could be used in a practical joke. That, I thought, is commitment.
“No, no, no.” Dad finally broke through his fit. He managed to gasp out, “Tom had to take a dump and did that last night.” Knowing its creator made my stomach turn sideways, but Todd’s giggles had changed to genuine laughter, and after a moment I joined in.
We stood there laughing, while Dad reenacted the scene over and over again. “I thought you guys were gonna poop your own pants!” he snorted, then doubled over to slap his knee.
“Naw awww,” we both said, offended, yet equally tickled.
He then went on, “You guys opened it! You opened it!” He kept murmuring this to himself as we finally descended the steps, officially ending our night.
Despite being fooled, I felt good, even considering the hard time I had received earlier. We left the house the same way we had entered and walked down the lawn, through the bushes to the main road that led back to town.
We chatted about the house the whole time and breaking into fits of laughter over the “scary” surprise. All this made the walk back to Dad’s store very quick.
As we turned down the alley that led to the back entrance he stopped just shy of walking in the door and turned each of us towards him. Grabbing our opposite shoulders, one in each hand and twisting us around he knelt, looking at us each in turn.
He said, “I am going to try and get out to see you guys soon, okay?” It was more of a question than a statement.
“When?” Todd said, the eagerness in his voice transparent.
“I don’t know yet but I am going to try.” Dad said.
“It sucks out there,” I said, “and I hate Gabe. I don’t want to go back. Can we just stay with you?”
“No,” was all Dad offered and then added, “You be good to Todd.”
“Yeah, I will.”
“Remember what I asked you to do.”
“I will.”
“Okay,” was all he said, ending the conversation as he herded us through the door and up to the loft where a sea of mattresses lay strewn across the floor.
Instead of each picking our own, we all ended up on just one with a pile of blankets stacked high upon us. We huddled closely together, the night’s adventure done, knowing that for now, we were home safe and with our team.
