Finding Parker (9 page)

“What about mom and dad? Why did they have to leave here so soon?” I asked as I placed my books on the table.

“I suppose it was to bring us closer together,” she smiled, opening her arms to hug me.

Slowly and sadly, I walked to her and wrapped my arms around her waist. Her dresses always felt smooth against my skin. I pressed my face against her shoulder and took a slow deep breath.

“And grandpappy?” I asked as my eyes began to fill with tears.

“Again, to bring us even closer,” she responded as she pressed her hands against my back.

“Things happen in life, Parker. Things we may or may not understand, at least not at first. These events, these happenings, they provide us with opportunities. It’s God’s way of opening doors for us. He provides us with opportunities, and we must make choices. If we’re of sound mind and practicing being a good child of God, we’ll generally make good choices,” she placed her hands on my shoulders and slowly broke our embrace.

“Your parents leaving this earth gave your grandfather and me an opportunity to do what we believed to be right, to raise you no differently than we raised your father. We took that opportunity. And you, Parker, are the reward. You’re a fine boy. There’s none finer, if you ask me. Not now or ever,” she looked down into my eyes, her hands still on my shoulders.

“Life is easy. All we have to do to live it is breathe. Making all the right choices regarding life and living it takes some serious thought, though. Try asking yourself this before you make a decision regarding living your life, Parker,” she paused and widened her eyes.

“If I had to tell my grandmother about this, would I still do it? If the answer is yes, it’s probably a good decision. If the answer is no, I wouldn’t suggest doing it,” she smiled and turned toward the kitchen counter.

She removed a platter of cookies from the counter and placed them on the table beside my books.

“Now, let’s sit and have a cookie. Tell me why life is so difficult today,” she smiled as she removed a cookie from the platter and bit it in two.

I pulled the chair away from the table and sat down. As I reached for a cookie, I began to explain my frustration.

“It’s Jessica. She has a boyfriend,” I sighed.

“The little blonde girl in your class?” she asked.

I nodded, still angry about my discovery of Jessica having a boyfriend.

“And how does this change your day from good to bad?” she tilted her head to the side and waited for my response.

“I liked her,” I said sadly.

“Did you ever express your fondness to her?” she asked as she reached for another cookie.

I shook my head.

“So, you liked this little girl, but you never told her so?” she asked as dabbed the crumbs from the corner of her mouth.

“No ma’am,” I looked down at my feet as I responded, knowing one of life’s lessons was headed my way.

“Well, let me see,” she wiped her mouth again and smiled.

“When something in life happens that we take exception to, something we don’t like or wish would have gone differently, we need to take a step backward,” she paused and reached across the table lifting my chin with her index finger.

“And ask ourselves if we had an opportunity to do it all over again, if there is something we would have done differently. So, Parker, knowing now what you know about your feelings for this girl, and your frustrations about her having a boyfriend, would you have done anything differently?” she looked down into my eyes and waited for me to respond.

Embarrassed, I shrugged my shoulders.

“Parker..?” she said slowly, dragging my name along for a good five seconds.

“I suppose I would have told her how I felt,” I responded.

“The good lord gave you an opportunity, Parker. You chose not to take it. And now? Well now he is teaching you a lesson. Learn it. And move on through life a wiser soul. The next time Parker, the next time do things differently.” 

“Yes ma’am,” I responded.

My grandmother may not have always been right, but the advice she provided me always made sense at the time she offered it. From the time I was in kindergarten, she spoke to me as if I were an adult. My speech patterns, vocabulary, and manner of expressing myself vocally were either a result of her teachings or my constant absorption of literary works from her library. At an early age she challenged me to read and read often. After a few years, the challenge was unnecessary – I could never read enough to satisfy my desire.

I suspect reading was an avenue of escape for me as a child – a means of becoming a character in the book for a short period of time. If a story was well written, I would often read it multiple times, inevitably enjoying the latter readings fractionally more than the first. I found myself more drawn to fact based fiction and less to the world of fantasy. Fantasy was difficult for me to digest; primarily because I was certain it could or would never happen.

The year before I graduated from high school Jessica and I became intimate. Proudly, we announced our relationship to everyone who cared to listen. I walked the hallways of the school hand in hand with her, pleased to call her my girlfriend. One thing led to another, and not unlike any other seventeen year old high school kids in a relationship, we considered having sex.

I didn’t express my sexual desires to my grandmother, but I didn’t have to. One evening, while eating dinner, she began a conversation about life. Initially, I wasn’t uncomfortable, but as always with my grandmother, where the conversation began and where it ended were two totally different subjects. She had a very effective manner of introducing a topic she wished to discuss.

“If you were able to turn back the clock and change one thing about your life, any
one
thing, what do you think you’d chose, Parker?” she asked as she pierced another piece of pot roast with her fork.

As she began to chew her food and wait for my response, I thought about her question. The first thing that came to mind was to live a life with my mother and father. Reluctant to blurt out my initial thought, I considered my answer, making certain there was nothing else I wanted to say.

“I would want to have my mother and father in my life,” I responded.

“I imagined that’d be your response. And why do you imagine you chose
that
for your answer?” she asked between bites.

I scrunched my brow. Her reasoning behind asking such a question wasn’t quite clear to me. As always with my grandmother, she formulated her questions to elicit thought. I lowered my fork to my plate and considered what life would be like with my parents in it. After a long moment, I responded.

“So we could be together – a family; mother, father, and son. I like it here, and you’re like a mother to me, but,” I paused, trying to thoughtfully decide what it was I wanted to say.

“You don’t need to say any more, Parker. I understand. Every parentless child wants to have what so many take for granted; to have a conventional family. It’s quite natural. Now, let me ask you another question,” she placed her fork onto the edge of her plate and cupped her hands together.

“Have you and Jessica discussed having sex?” she raised both eyebrows slightly and inhaled a shallow breath.

If I had food in my mouth at the time, I am quite sure I would have spit it out. The question, even from my outspoken grandmother, shocked me. Uneasy and somewhat uncomfortable answering, I began to shift my weight in the seat of my chair.

I crossed my legs.

I crossed my arms.

But I knew I had no other choice other than responding truthfully. My grandmother had one rule regarding responding to her questions;
always respond truthfully
. She advised me from a very early age to always tell the truth. If I told her a lie, there would be hell to pay. If I told her the truth, regardless of what it may be, we could always figure out a way to get through it. Considering all things, I kept my response truthful and quite brief.

“Yes.”

“Well,” she paused and glanced toward the china cabinet.

“I want you to consider a few things. Regardless of the birth control used, none are one hundred percent effective. So, there’s always a chance of pregnancy being the result of a sexual encounter. Considering the chance exists, ask yourself this, Parker. For a little bit of pleasure, are you willing to take the risk of Jessica becoming pregnant? Because if you’re not able to spend the remaining days of your life with Jessica raising your child, there will be another son or daughter in this world feeling the way you feel right now about your parents. Alone and without,” she looked down and into my eyes as she spoke.

I continued to squirm in my chair uncomfortably and listen to what she had to say. At that particular moment it wasn’t what I was hoping to hear, so sitting still and listening intently wasn’t high on my list of current priorities.

“So, if you’re not ready to become a parent – if you’re not certain that she’s
the one
, my recommendation would be to wait – because there’s always that one chance. And after it happens, undoing it isn’t really an option. So Parker,” she paused in mid-sentence as I fidgeted in my chair.

As she sat and waited for me to make eye contact with her, I stopped squirming.

“My recommendation is to only have sex with a woman if you’re comfortable she’s the woman you’ll be with forever. If you truly believe in your heart of hearts you can happily be with her forever, and you’re comfortable she feels the same about you, go right ahead. If not, think about that child growing up without a family. That’s the only advice I have about sex, Parker. Now eat your roast before it gets cold,” she said as she picked her fork from her plate.

Jessica and I didn’t last much longer. The thought of her becoming pregnant and my becoming an irresponsible and incapable teen father filled me. Ultimately, I knew I was in charge of my sexual advancements, but nonetheless, the thought of screaming infants and irresponsible parents became common. My relationship with Jessica was short lived, and to date remains my only relationship with any female with a love interest. I lived in constant fear of a child being brought up in a single parent home – the product of two irresponsible teens.

As I grew older, the same types of thoughts prevented me from being in any form of meaningful relationship with a woman. I had countless
friendships
with women, but sooner or later they always wanted more. For me,
more
meant a screaming infant and a failed relationship – a risk I wasn’t willing to take.

As an adult, we stand as an extension of the beliefs, principles, and moral fiber of those who played an active participant in our upbringing. I’ll be forever grateful for my grandmother being who she was, and believing in what she believed in with such vigor. Her beliefs, over time, became mine.

I miss her more than she’ll ever know.

PARKER.
“Mr. Ward is out for the morning. How is your day, Mr. Bale?” Downes asked as I walked toward the steps.

I paused in mid-stride, frustrated at the fact that Kenton was gone. I hadn’t slept much the previous night, and was already quite frustrated. Kenton’s absence wasn’t helping matters much. I really felt a desire to talk to someone.

Downes stood on the edge of the steps in black linen pants and a short sleeved linen shirt. The shirt was a silvery-blue color, and although it fit loosely, it didn’t come close to disguising his rather muscular physique. I stood, wondering if he intended for people to be intimidated by him.

“So far, great. Thank you,” I fibbed.

“So, if I may, is your first or last name Downes?” I asked as I slowly approached the base of the steps.

“Let’s walk to the back deck, Mr. Bale. We can talk over a glass of tea. Please,” he motioned toward the front door as he spoke.

I followed up the steps, down the corridor of the home, and through the French doors onto the deck. Downes, as always, walked quietly, and methodically. He seemed to be the type of person that spoke only if necessary, and probably never for the sake of speaking alone. As he sat at the table where Katelyn and Kenton and I sat only a few nights before, I realized a pitcher of tea and two glasses were already positioned on the table.

“It’s raspberry, and I must say it rivals the peach. Oh, and for what it’s worth, your eyebrows are repairing nicely. The other night it appeared you had four of them,” he hesitated as he held the pitcher suspended over the table.

I nodded my head and smiled as I brushed my index fingers along my brow. As he poured me a glass of tea, he grinned. His teeth were perfectly shaped and defined the color white.
Probably veneers.
No one has teeth quite that perfect.

“Sometimes I get carried away plucking them. I’m surprised you noticed,” I sighed as I lowered my hands nervously to my lap.

“I notice everything. It’s my job,” he grinned and inhaled a short breath.

“My mother’s maiden name was Downes. She chose to name me Downes, using her maiden name for my first name. So, Downes Tallert was born,” he said, continuing to smile the entire time.

“I see. It’s an unusual first name, I like it. And your last name. It’s unusual as well, but it sounds familiar, I just can’t seem to place it,” I said as I raised the tea glass to my lips.