Crash Test Dummy

Chapter 4

I retreated to my room. Changing my mind, I headed down the stairs to start on the cleaning job in the shed. Other than the pictures, a few T-shirts, some oldies records, and some sports trading cards there hadn't been much in the attic. I had kept the shirts. They were too big, but I would grow into them. I wondered why Dad hadn't taken them with him when he left. I asked Mom. She said they were shirts that they had bought matching ones of at events they went to together. Dad had left them, saying if she wanted him out of her life, he didn't want any nostalgic reminders.

As I went towards the back door, I heard Seth's voice. "Give him some time, Patsy. He'll come around. Right now he's hurt and confused."

"Confused!" my mind fumed. I felt like puking. "Now he's playing shrink with Mom," I thought.

Seth was the only one who called Mom Patsy. I guess it was his pet name for her. I would have thought she would hate it. I had heard her correct someone who called her Patsy once, saying the name was Patty. But she seemed to like it coming from him. He met her when he had a patient on the psyc floor where she worked. He was a psychiatrist. That's why he could come to the house at 4PM every day. He could set his own hours since he worked for himself.

When I got to the shed and flipped the switch, nothing happened. A little moonlight came in the skylight and large windows in the back, but they were pretty dirty. I don't think anyone had been in the shed since Dad left. In the murky light, I could make out an object with a tarp thrown over it, a table near the window had a saw mounted on it, and a bunch of tools hanging on a pegboard on a wall. There were also plenty of cobwebs. I considered going to get a light bulb, but the lights were long florescent bulbs. We didn't have bulbs like that in the house, so I would have to come out here when it was light outside and could figure out what kind of bulbs I needed.

I headed back to the house. I noticed that Seth's car was gone. That made me uneasy. I hadn't been alone with Mom much over the last few weeks except when we were asleep. When I entered the house, there were no lights on downstairs.

"Good," I thought. "Maybe Mom went to bed."

I considered watching some TV but wasn't much interested. Instead, I headed upstairs, trying to move quietly so as not to alert Mom to my presence before I got to my room and could lock her out.

I needn't have bothered. When I got to my room, Mom was sitting on the bed with the photo album in her lap. Tears were running down her face.

"Hey," I shouted. "Don't be dripping on my book." I pulled it from her hands. "What are you crying about anyway? You threw him out."

"Oh, Wayne." She sounded worn out, vulnerable. "It's way more complicated than that."

"Look," I took the bull by the horns.. "I'm not a baby or even a little kid any more. I can understand complexity. Try me."

"Okay, I'll try." She took a deep breath and stood. "But I need to get something that might help."

She came back with a plastic box, the kind she stores her winter clothes in during the summer. She took out a scrapbook. She sat down on the bench under my window and patted the spot beside her.

Reluctantly, I perched on the edge of the bench as far from her as the small space allowed. She sighed.

"Come over here, Wayne. You need to be close enough to hold one side of this book."

When I didn't move, she looked at me with pleading eyes. Then she added, "This is full of pictures of your Dad. I need it to help you understand our story."

I slid over, but I remained on the edge of the bench. She moved to the edge of her side and opened the album, placing the front in my lap. An 8X10 glossy was on the first page. Dad was sitting on a Harley, grinning. In the background were a bunch of teenage girls in uniforms, hugging schoolbooks. The school building was behind them.