Less Than Perfect Circumstance Read Free

storytelling was very convincing , too. He had been the cause of many confrontations at Dale Day Prep. As skilled as he was at orchestrating these schemes, he was always able to squirm his way out, stand on the side leaning on the orange-colored lockers that ran down the center of the hall, with a sick smile signaling some satisfaction he got as the events unfurled. Artiswas a gossiper in high school, and although I could have given him the benefit of the doubt and assumed he had changed with age, I presumed
    Artis was, simply, too old to change.
    “But you are doing better, right?” Artis continued , avoiding obvious signs to end the extended conversation I wasn’t prepared to have.
    “Yes, I’m just trying to get things together. You know me.”
    The house phone rang and provided the escape I needed.
    “I better get that.”
    I thanked Artis for his visit and hurried for the phone.
    “Hey, I was expecting your voicemail. How are you?” Dane asked. Dane and I tried to connect at least once every day.
    “Hey bro!” I greeted, still not feeling in the mood for conversation, even if it were with my brother.
    “Sorry I haven’t had a chance to come check on you, man. I’ve just been really busy”.
    Auditions, callbacks, and school provided Dane the busy schedule he’d always wanted. He had promised that a degree with his name on it would hang on the wall alongside the others no matter how successful he was in the acting business. My father called it something to fall back on, but Dane had no plans of falling back.
    “I understand. I’m just trying to get better. Mom was here for a while, and you know how she gets,” I said.
    “Yeah, that’s mom for you,” Dane responded. “So, what’s next for you, bro? It can’t be any fun confined like that.”
    “Following doctors’ orders are never fun. Everything is still so fragmented. I’m still trying to put the little pieces together. Right now, I am more concerned about this ugly scar across my forehead and these headaches that come and go as they please.”
    “Look, Dexter. You know I’m here if you want to talk. Have you spoken to dad? Mom said he was upset,” Dane revealed.
    “So I’ve heard. I understand how he feels, I guess, but I can’t worry about him right now. As far as I’m concerned, he will never understand, so why waste time trying to make him?” I asked rhetorically. “I’m his flesh and blood and not even a phone call, a visit, nothing. It makes me wonder if I had died, would my own father even attend my funeral, if even to throw dirt on my coffin.”
    “Don’t say that, Dex. You know dad loves you,” Dane said persuasively.
    “Well maybe he needs practice in showing it.”
    Marvin and I had a few problems in our father-son relationship, though nothing I thought age and time couldn’t fix. There were times my father treated me like a stepchild than the son he helped to create. My accident hadn’t made it any easier. There was so much about me my father didn’t understand  not that he even tried . It puzzled my father that his sons who had shared their mother’s womb were so very different; something he said he noticed from my first cry. Actually, Dane and I were more alike than our father knew.
    Marvin never held his tongue for anyone, and since he and I, for the most part, were much alike, the simplest conversations, without warning, became arguments. Tension always existed between us, and Marvin’s constant attempt to dictate how I should live my life didn’t help in easing that tension. I refused to let my father run my life, and Marvin insisted on doing so. 
    “I’ll get around to calling him eventually. It’s not like he has called to see how I’m doing,” I said.
    “This is true. But you know how he is.”
    Dane sensed how uncomfortable I had become talking about our father. It’s not like Dane was making excuses for him. I did actually know how Marvin was. Whether Marvin was right or wrong, he thinks you