Gold

Gold

I sat alone in the kitchen, since my older brother Sean was in his room. I opened the cupboard and grabbed a bag of English muffins. Since Dad was taking us to a football game tonight, my mom was going out “with a friend” and told us to make ourselves something to eat. When my brother came down, he looked groggy (which was weird at 5 p.m.) and smelled like burnt leaves.
“What up, dipshit,” he said. “Hurry up with the toaster, I wanna make some eggos.”
After my English muffins sprang up, I sat at the table and snatched the comics. I started with reading Hagar the Horrible, since it’s about a Viking, which was the mascot of the team we were going to see. If I had Hagar’s Viking helmet, I’d never take it off, not even in the shower. Sean plopped into his chair with his Eggos and looked at my muffins.
“The only thing edible the English ever gave us was a dank-ass muffin.”
I laughed, since if I didn’t, he’d make fun of me instead. I learned long ago that if I laughed at what he said about other people, Sean might not make fun of me. It didn't always work.
“Where the hell’s the sports section?” He asked, before looking in front of him. We ate in silence, like usual. Mom came downstairs.
“You boys ready to go?”
“Yes, Mom,” my brother and I answered. Mom and Dad have been divorced since I was in Kindergarten, so like five years. I once asked Mom why they weren't together anymore, and she told me that sometimes people think they're in love when they really aren’t. I asked Dad and he said to look at Mom’s license to see what grade she got for sex. I did and it said “F”.
“You boys almost ready?” Mom asked as she looked around for something.
The door bell rang and I ran to get it, pretending to dodge a defender as my mom opened the door and Sean got up.
“Jack,” Mom said, putting ear rings in her ear (which was dumb).
“Hello, Sharon, are my children ready?”
“Yeah Dad!” I yelled.
“Good! Let’s get a move on then,” he said. I ran out but he stopped at looked at Mom. “Ear rings, lipstick, and a desperate dress? Are you going out?”
Mom clicked one of the rings in. “Yes, Jack, it’s a rare treat that you play dad on a Saturday night, so of course I’m going out.”
Mom leaned in to kiss Sean and I goodbye. As she kissed Sean, her nose wrinkled and Sean looked down at his shoes.
“Don't worry, I won't sell them,” Dad said. “You'll see ‘em again.”
Mom frowned. “Don’t forget to pick up Justin’s friend on the way there. And drive carefully, it’s foggy out.”
“Oh is it?” Dad looked around. “Thanks for the heads up.”
Mom turned red. “You boys be good tonight, even if your father isn't.”
“We’ll be back right after the game, I hope we don’t beat you back,” Dad said before from closed the door. We walked to Dad’s green Ford Explorer. I liked ridding in it because of how high up I felt in it. I told Sean once, and he agreed that feeling high was cool. It blew away Mom’s Volvo, even if Dad’s car had some dents in it, which he said were from other people being “careless.”
We all buckled up and Dad turned to me. “Where does your friend live, Justin?”
“Up the street, it’s the green house on the left with the steep driveway.”
Seconds later, I was knocking on my best friend’s door. “You ready?” I asked Winston when he opened it. He was wearing a yellow Oregon Ducks coat.
“That’s the wrong college,” I told him as we walked to the car.
He looked down. “I don't have any Viking stuff. Sorry.”
“It’s ok, I don’t either.” But I would if I could just get my hand’s on Hagar’s helmet...
Winston got in on my dad’s side while I sat behind my brother.
“I’m Justin’s dad. Nice to meet you.”
“I’m Winston Allen.”
“Winston? That’s an interesting name. Like the cigarette and the NASCAR race?” Dad asked as he turned on the engine. I frowned. Winston wasn’t supposed to know he smoked.
“I think I was named after the English guy during World War Two.”
“Don’t get your hopes up, kid,” he said as we backed out.
Dad often said he wished he was named after some guy named Jack London, but told us grandpa did a bang up job hammering into Dad that he was named after the whiskey.
“That’s my brother, Sean. He’s in high school,” I bragged.
Winston’s eyes went huge.
We left Winston’s house and headed to the game. Dad turned on the radio to a sports station, and we drove in silence listening to some football game. Dad kept looking at Sean, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t remember. I’m glad he didn’t, because he always embarrassed me in front of my friends.
Twenty minutes later, we pulled into a Pay to Park lot. Dad rustled around to pay the man at the entrance. The dark man tried to say “Thank you” as Dad drove off to park. Dad said that our last name probably meant “blow job” in the dark man’s country. Winston and I looked at each other. I didn't know what that meant, but judging by the way Mom reacted when I asked her what doggy style was (it’s not just a swimming move), I decided to forget it.
Sean liked the joke, though. Whenever Dad made Sean or me laugh, he had this twinkle in his eye, like he saw an unopened pack of gummy worms with nobody around to take them.
We got out and I followed Dad and Sean as they headed to the stadium. Winston stayed beside me and zipped up his coat while we walked.
“So, Sean,” Dad said. “I noticed in the car that you have a very distinct smell.”
“Whatever,” Sean said as he tried to walk faster, but Dad kept up.
“Listen, I don't care if you smoke Lucifer’s Lettuce. Just as long as you grow up liking chicks and eating meat, you can do whatever you want and I’ll be proud. That goes for all of you.” Dad turned to us. “Winston, I'm not your father but I'm sure he feels the same way.”
“My father says that if I don’t go to college, he’ll disown me,” Winston replied.
“He doesn’t mean that,” Dad said. “For all he knows, you could grow up to be a basketball superstar and skip college completely.”
Winston frowned and I laughed, since during gym, he always got pegged with dodgeballs thrown by Jill Shollander. Sure, Jill was stronger than most of the boys in our grade, but it’s still embarrassing to go to the nurse’s office just because a girl nailed him in the nose with a foam ball. Winston won all our class’s spelling bees, but everyone knew that didn’t make up for it.
We crossed the street to the stadium. A man was on the sidewalk handing out flyers and yelling, “Stop Social Security! Stop seniors from taking our future with them to the grave!” As we passed him, Winston grabbed one and stuffed it into his coat. He was always reading boring grown up things.
Dad laughed and looked at Sean. “Man, what us Baby Boomers are doing to your generation is highway robbery. But I’ll make it up to you. When I die, I’ll leave you all my pain meds and we can call it even.” I think my dad was joking, but Sean asked if he could get that in writing. Dad laughed and shook his head.
We got to the stadium gates and Dad passed out our tickets. “Hold them like this, with the barcode facing up,” he said.
We did so because we didn’t have any reason not to. I passed through the metal gate and a man with a ray-gun zapped my ticket. Once inside, my dad looked at his ticket, and said, “Gate ten, let’s go.” We walked down the huge cement hall that wrapped around the stadium.
“Wow, this hall is big enough to fit two of your Aunt Betsy’s,” Dad said. He glanced at Sean, but Sean’s face looked like it did whenever I asked if I could hang out with him and his friends.
Dad changed directions to a food and drink stand. There were some people in front of us, so Dad asked, “Do you guys want anything? Candy, popcorn, soda...?”
“Sprite!” I answered.
“Dr. Pepper,” Sean said, staring at his phone.
Dad turned around. “What about you, Winston, what do you want?”
“I'm not supposed to drink pop,” he said, looking at his shoes.
“He can have a hot chocolate,” I answered.
Winston nodded, and I knew it was so he wouldn't have to talk anymore, like he often did when we decided what to do when we hung out.
Dad told the man our orders. I didn’t care, because across the hall at a booth selling Viking gear, there was a perfect gold helmet with two thick white horns coming out the top. I don’t know what God looks like, but I bet he has like three hundred of those helmets, and wears them whenever he watches football or goes to a fancy dinner.
Sean smacked me on the arm. “Hey, dumb ass, we’re leaving.” I followed Sean and Dad to our seats, Winston beside me and clutching his hot chocolate, as if wondering if he’d be forced to drink it.
We walked to Gate Ten, and entered the actual stadium, which had rows of seats surrounding the field. It was a really big place, and the only stadium I’ve ever been to. We climbed down the concrete steps towards our seats. When we got to our row, Dad was the first to go into it, followed by Sean, then me, and Winston on the aisle.
We sat down, and Dad gave me my bottle of Sprite and took a deep drink of his beer. I looked at the scoreboard and saw we were playing “IDAHO STATE”. I’d never seen them before, but I was excited to hear what my dad would yell at them.
I asked Dad what time it was. He was in the middle of drinking his beer and lowered it in his left hand so that he wouldn’t have to put the cup down. While he was doing this, two things happened at the same time. As my father said “Ten till seven,” a man crossing to his seat knocked into Dad from behind. My dad’s beer spilled out and onto his shirt and pants.
Even though Mom sometimes says that Dad doesn’t care about anything but himself, I think she forgets about beer. Winston gasped as my dad let out a flow of words that’d earn three or four mouth washings at school, and turned around to share his feelings with the man.
Well, Dad tried, and had to step back and tilt his neck to make eye contact with a man who could’ve been one of the football players. Dad turned his frown upside down. The monster man grunted and moved down the row away from us.
My father sighed and said, “Well, if you can’t laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at?”
“We can laugh at you for being such a pussy,” Sean whispered. Dad ignored him, and pulled out his flask.
I liked his flask. It was silver with cursive words stamped into it. "You win some, you lose some." I once asked him if I could take it to class for show-and-tell sometime. He told me that I shouldn't bring a flask to school until at least Junior High. I'm not sure if they'll have show-and-tell in Junior High, but I hope they do.
Winston nudged me. “What’s your dad doing, Justin?”
I felt my cheeks go red. “Oh, uh, nothing,” I lied. “Hey, how many people do you think this place can hold?” I asked. Winston wrinkled his face as he started looking around.
The game started, with the Vikings in black and Idaho State in white. Each side would get the ball, hand it to someone who’d get hammered by the defenders, and then kick the ball to the other team so they could do the same. On the few times the Vikings threw the ball, it’d usually go through a defender’s hands.
After one play, my dad stood up and yelled, “GET OFF YOUR KNEES REF, YOU’RE BLOWING THE GAME!”
Sean laughed, but I didn’t get it. Was the ref whistling on his knees or something?
“Cry me a river, Dad,” Sean said. “The Vikings suck this year, like they do every year.”
Dad took another drink from his flask.
I never got that phrase, “cry me a river.” It doesn’t make sense. In class, our teacher told us that oceans are salt water, but rivers aren’t. Tears are salty, so a river of tears is impossible. I tried to watch the game, but I kept imaging how it’d be different if the Vikings had horns coming out of their helmets. I heard a whistle, and the half was over.
Dad sighed and sat down. “Well, both teams have found each other’s weakness: talent.”
I was going to ask Dad why the Vikings weren’t playing better, but didn’t, since he might say something embarrassing. Once, while he was in one of his “moods”, I asked him where babies come from. Beer in one hand and TV control in the other, he looked down at me and said, “Hell.”
I didn’t know storks could fly through hell.
I started thinking about my fort at home. Winston and I were building it in the creek so I could hide my fireworks there.
“Hey Winston, wanna work on our fort tomorrow?”
Winston squinted. “I don’t know, Justin, my mom got mad at me for how muddy I was last time.”
That might’ve been my fault. Last time, we had to build a dam with rocks and stuff. Winston’s boots are bigger than mine, so I told him to go to the deep end of the creek to get a big rock from there. I guess I should’ve known better.
The game started again, and was still boring so Winston and I talked about our fort until the Vikings returned one of the punts halfway across the field. There was only a minute left in the game.
“I wonder how the Vikings are going to screw this one up,” Sean said. I could see Dad frown but nod.
The Vikings handed the ball off again.
“Jesus,” I heard my dad say, “Those gutless bastards are playing for overtime.”
“Will that make us late getting home?” Winston asked.
Dad looked at his watch and took another sip from his flask.
The Vikings snapped the ball and handed it off it, but this time the running back tossed the ball behind him to the quarterback, who caught the ball and threw it.
“Holy shit!” Dad yelled and Winston gasped again.
  I saw the Viking receiver catch the ball all alone in the endzone.
The crowd roared and my dad started whooping and clapping, giving us all big high-fives. Except Winston. Winston got a small high-five.
The kicker kicked the extra point, and the Vikings led seven to zero. They kicked the ball off to Idaho State, and after a string of nice moves the Idaho State returner was finally tackled at the Viking's forty yard line, just as time expired.
“Well, time to go guys,” Dad said as he looked at me.
Getting up, Winston knocked over his cup of hot chocolate, which might’ve been the first time he touched it all game. Winston looked like he was about to cry.
“Should’ve bought you a beer,” Dad joked.
Winston coughed and tried to smile. Once out of the row, Winston took a few steps into the aisle to wait for me. I let my dad and brother lead, while Winston and I followed. We passed a man selling snow-cones, shouting “BEAT THE HEAT WITH AN ICY TREAT!”
Dad said on how dumb of an idea it was to get a job that depended on the weather. I thought it was brave.
On the way back to the car, Dad and Sean talked about which team sucked worse, while I just hoped they wouldn’t swear. But they did, and when I didn’t hear a gasp, I looked over to see if Winston was still with us.
His eyes were glued to the ground (not actually).
“I’m sorry for spilling the hot chocolate,” Winston said.
“It’s ok,” I said as we got close to our car. “As long as it’s not beer or in his car, my dad doesn’t care.”
Winston smiled as we got into the car.
Getting out of the parking lot was hard since all the cars were trying to leave at the same time. Dad turned on the radio and he and Sean listened to the football news.
I stopped thinking about popcorn chicken when my Dad asked, “You boys have fun?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“What about you, Winston?”
“Yes,” Winston lied, as we finally got onto the highway.
“That’s good. Man, Sean, it’s a lot easier driving without that freakin fog everywhere.”
I thought the trees along the highway were moving faster than usual, but it was hard to tell in the dark.
“Watch your speed, Dad,” Sean said.
“Huh? Oh, it’s ok.”
Lights started flashing and a siren was going off behind us.
“Shit,” Dad said as Winston gasped.
This couldn’t be happening. If we got pulled over, and Winston’s parents found out, they’d never let us play together again!
Dad pulled to the side of the highway, and the police car did too. Dad turned off the car and told us all to stay still and silent.
“Are we going to jail?” Winston whimpered to me.
“I hope not,” I said. If we did, then Winston’s parents would move, and I’d never ever see him again. I looked the other way, because I didn’t want him to see me cry.
The officer came over, and Dad rolled down his window.
“License and registration?”
“Sure thing,” Dad started as he squinted at the officer’s uniform, “lieutenant.”
Winston leaned against me and whispered, “That's Officer Christensen! He goes to my church!”
That made things a bazillion times worse. If the police officer saw Winston...
I slowly took off my jacket and tried to cover Winston’s head with it. The officer noticed, and shined his flashlight back at us. Winston pushed my jacket off and looked confused.
“What’s going on back-, oh, hi Winston,” the officer said. “Just relax, this is totally routine,” he explained before sniffing the car. My dad handed him some papers and a card. “Sir, have you been drinking tonight?”
“Well, I tried to have a beer at the game, but some jerk spilled it on me before I could get far.”
I heard Sean slap his forehead.
Officer Christensen nodded. “I want you to step out of the vehicle, please.”
Dad sighed, got out, and followed the officer to the front of the police car. I never get car sick, but I was about to vomit.
After a minute of twisting our necks and watching, Sean spoke up. “Hope Dad isn’t being his dumb ass self out there.”
I almost puked. “What happens if Dad gets arrested? Will we go to jail too?”
  “No, one of the pig’s friends will take us home. If that happens, Dad’ll want to stay in jail instead of facing Mom.”
This made sense to me. A minute later, Winston gasped. “He's writing down our names!”
“Relax,” Sean said as I almost feinted. “Dad’s probably just getting another speeding ticket. I mean, he was going like seventy-fuckin-five.”
Winston sighed with relief.
The officer handed the ticket to Dad, who frowned. The officer’s face reminded me of how Jill Shollander looks when she pegs a boy in the face. Winston waved goodbye to the officer as Dad sat down and buckled in. Sean and I looked everywhere except at Dad.
As he turned on the car, Dad said to Sean, “Well, I guess this is why your mom wants to be the one to teach you to drive. Guess I can't blame her.”
Winston was looking down at his Sketchers, as I wondered who’d finish my fort with me when his parents found out. Sean always said Dad was a “screwup,” but I never understood why.
Dad spoke up. “If you ever get a ticket for, uh, anything, talk to me and not your mom, ok boys?”
Sean and I nodded. We dropped Winston off at his house and he thanked us for inviting him, even though I wished we hadn’t.
“No problem,” my dad said through the window. “My company gave me four tickets, thinking I’m still married, and I sure wasn’t going to invite...never mind. If there’s one thing I can teach you boys, it’s never take a woman to a sports game. It totally defeats the purpose.”
Winston looked at my dad, the way I look at my teacher when she goes over algebra. He waved bye to me, as I waved back and tried not to cry, since his parents would probably make him switch schools now.
“Odd kid,” Dad said as we pulled out of the driveway. “Doesn't say much, which’ll make some girl very happy one day.” My brother and I laughed, for the first time in forever. If me being with a girl was weird, the idea of Winston with a girl was bonkers. But I didn’t think Winston’s personality was why Sean was laughing.
A minute later, we were standing on our doorstep. Dad hugged us, but we didn’t hug him back.
“Remember, I love you both so much. And Justin,” he said as he shifted from side to side, then looked at me. “I’ll call Winston’s parents and tell them what happened, and that they should still let him hang out with you.”
I jumped and hugged him.
“Also, boys, no matter what happens, no matter how bad things seem, you should never ever tell Mom anything I say.”
Right then Mom swung open the door and looked at Dad, sniffing the air. “Jesus Jack, I see you haven’t changed your cologne.”
“Relax, some prick spilled my beer on me at the start of the game. And I didn’t even buy another one to replace it!”
“So you remembered your flask, then?” Mom asked as she folded her arms.
“Yeah. Thank God I didn't spill that, too. I would’ve really been in trouble.”
Mom went red. “You’re the most delinquent father in the world. You're below dirt, Jack.”
A sparkle appeared in Dad’s eyes. “You know what else is below dirt? Gold, Sharon. Gold.” Sean laughed. I hadn't seen Mom’s face this red since the time she asked Dad if her pants made her look fat and Dad asked her to step back so he could take her all in.
Mom yanked Sean and I inside, and slammed the door on Dad.
“Go upstairs and change,” she ordered us.
As we raced up the stairs, Sean said, “Guess Mom and Dad are staying divorced.” All I could think about were two Christmases and maybe getting two of the horned Viking helmets. I’d give one to Winston, to show his parents I’m not bad. But I’d make him give it back.