PALE BLUE EYES & WHAT THEY HIDE

3

PALE BLUE EYES & WHAT THEY HIDE

When I was eight, I went to work with my dad on a Saturday.  Pretty common Saturday activity for us after one of my football games.  He worked downtown on O Street in this office building.  Across the street was the community college and they had a convenience store inside on the second floor.  My dad would hand me a couple bucks sometimes to go get him and myself a snack.  I’d walk out of his office, say hi to the receptionist, go downstairs and exit the building.  Then cross the street and go into the community college building, up the escalators and into the convenience store.

This particular Saturday the security guard was chatting with the store cashier.  They were the only two in the store.  They watched me as soon as I walked in and even with my back away from them I felt their gaze and it made me uncomfortable.  I remember the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.  I could hear them lower their conversation to a whisper and I couldn’t hear what they were saying.

I picked out a granola bar and a couple Little Debbie snacks for my dad and myself.  The fudge brownies with walnuts are our favorite.  I walked up to the cashier who didn’t say a word and put my selection on the counter.  I could see the security guard standing to my left out of the corner of my eye.  His eyes were on me and he didn’t look friendly.  The cashier rang them up, again without saying a word.  I saw the total come up on the register so I handed him the money my dad gave me.  He handed me back the change and a receipt.  I turned around and walked out of the store and before I got two steps out the security guard yelled.

“Boy!”

I stopped and turned my head to look him in the eye.

“Come back here.”

I was scared.  He had a badge on his chest and he wore a blue shirt with black slacks.  He wore glasses and had a short cropped haircut.  Military style but he was small.  Very thin and short but still the appearance of an authority figure so he was in charge.

I walked back into the store.  I was trying not to shake as I looked up at him.

“Empty your pockets.”

I was confused because I know he just saw me pay for the snacks.  I pulled the change, receipt and the pocketknife my dad gave me when I was six out of my pocket.

“Lay that on the counter.”

I placed the contents of my hands on the counter.  The store cashier leaned over the other side of the counter to take a look at the contents then he looked at me.

“Turn out your pockets.”

My hands shook as I turned out the pockets of my jeans and the lint fell to the floor.

“I know you stole something,” is all the security guard said.

“I didn’t steal anything, I paid.”

“You’re lying.  We saw you put something in your pocket,” he nodded to the cashier who had his arms folded and looked down at me.

“I didn’t,” I was scared and confused.  I’d never experienced an adult like him.  I knew I didn’t do anything wrong.  Nothing went in my pocket in the store that day other than the receipt and change.

“You can go,” he sighed.  “But I we know what you did.”

I grabbed my knife and my dad’s change from the counter and walked out of the convenience store.  I walked to the escalators and rode it down to the first floor.  I looked back and I could see the guard and the shop cashier watching me as I left.

I got out of the building and waited at the crosswalk.  I was breathing heavily and I was fighting the urge to cry as I stood there.  The light changed and I crossed.  If I kept moving I could suppress the tears.  I made it back into my dad’s building and up the stair to his office.  The receptionist said hello and I think I waved but all I remember was trying to not show her my face out of embarrassment.  I wasn’t crying but I knew my face was red with the effort to suppress the tears.

What bothered me so much was that someone I thought I should be able to trust would accuse me of something I didn’t do.  He was someone I had always assumed I could trust.  A safety net I had always assumed was there for me disappeared, or maybe it never existed at all and the latter is a thought that bothered me most.

I walked into my dad’s office and put all the snacks and the change on his desk, which faced the wall so I didn’t have to walk around.

“Thanks Robbie,” and he kept typing away.

I didn’t know what to do.  I was scared and in shock.  I just leaned into him, my shoulder into his as he sat there.

“What’s up bud?” he turned to look at me with his light blue eyes.

I couldn’t hold it in anymore and I started crying.  Fat tears dropped immediately on his white Van Heusen shirtsleeves.

“What’s wrong?  What happened?” he was alert.

I told him what happened through my tears and gasping of breath.  My dad as I knew him up to that point was very quiet spoken.  Kind hearted.  Easily the nicest person I’ve ever met and I had friends and teachers that said the same thing about him.  But after I told him what happened across the street I saw a side of him I would only ever see twice more after.  He stood and shut down his computer without saying a word.  I don’t think it was until that moment I realized how tall he was.  I knew he was tall.  Taller than most of my friend’s dads but man did he seem tall in that moment.

“Lets go,” is all he said as he took my hand and lead me out of his office.  He didn’t say anything to the receptionist as we left the building, crossed the street and into the community college.

I was scared.  I was scared of what my dad was going to do.  I have never seen him like this before.  He looked determined and ready to conquer.  He looked like Madmartigan from the movie Willow.  That might seem silly but I watched that movie nearly everyday growing up and loved to reenact the battles in the backyard with my toy swords with my brothers and sister, we’d argue over who got to be Madmartigan.  My uncle would join in occasionally as well.

We took the elevators rather than the escalators to the second floor.  We walked up to the store.  The security guard had his back turned to us, talking to the cashier as we walked up.  The cashier saw us coming and the security guard turned around as my dad let go of my hand.

I don’t remember all the details.  My dad never touched him but you could hear his voice boom throughout the entire building.  A voice I had never heard before, and never heard used towards my siblings or me.  This was something saved for particular occasions.  He didn’t let the guard get a single word in.  I didn’t realize how well spoken my dad could be under pressure until that moment.  He couldn’t be stopped and I remember being in awe at his ability to shut the guard down with words, loud words but in the end just words.

The guard was red in the face and he cowered as my dad leaned over him, getting hit over and over by the words.  Then my dad turned onto the cashier.

When it was over, dad turned around and took my shoulder and led me to the escalators.  We walked down the escalators, never stopping.

“Your son is a liar!  He is lying to you!” the guard yelled after us.

We got back into the sunlight outside and my dad turned me to face him.  I was still in shock but I wasn’t crying anymore.

“There are idiots in the world that will abuse what little power they have and he is one of them.  I know you didn’t take anything.  I love you and I trust you,” he gave me a hug.  Then we made our way back across the street.  “Still want to hang with me in the office?”

We went back up to the office.  I read a comic book and ate my Little Debbie fudge brownie with the walnuts while my dad went back to work on his computer and he ate his.

I only had to sit there for about 45 minutes before my mom walked through the door.  She didn’t seem upset or worried.  She just walked towards me before being intercepted by Tubby 1.  I couldn’t hear what he was telling her but a few times he would motion back at me with his right hand but his eyes were always on her.  She would glance over at me but she didn’t seem fazed.

They walked over after a couple minutes.  I stood up.  Tubby 1 uncuffed me.

“You’re free to go.”

I walked out of the station with mom and she handed me the keys to her purple minivan.  We got in and headed for the house.

“Are you alright?” she asked me.

“I’m fine mom.”

“Dad’s on his way home.  We’ll talk about it there but no one is pressing charges.”

We sat in silence as I drove.  I knew because the whole thing was self-defense they wouldn’t say too much on the matter, my parents that is.  Honestly they stopped saying anything really after I turned 16.  They were there if I wanted help but they let me make my own decisions after that.  I didn’t even have a curfew, even on school nights.  They just wanted to be informed of my plans.

“Are you sure you’re alright?  You don’t want to go to the hospital or anything?”

I looked at my mom and smiled, which hurt with the bruises on my face.  “Promise, I’m fine.”

When we got home I pulled into the driveway behind my dad’s car.  My sister Leah’s car was on the lawn.  Just the screen door was closed with the heavy white door stopped open with a brick covered in a padded sleeve my mom sewed over it as a doorstop.  We walked inside, dad was making dinner in the kitchen.  Leah was doing math homework on the table in the dining area.  My brothers and uncle were watching Wheel of Fortune on TV.  All the windows were open.  Even though it was already humid and in the 80s, dad didn’t turn the air on until mid July.  Once he waited until August.

Tall bookshelves lined all the walls stuffed with thousands of books.  All the shelves were organized by author.  A couple of shelves on one wall were devoted to nonfiction including several translations of the bible.  One short bookshelf was full of vinyl records and on top sat the record player and stereo.  Next to it was my dad’s piano and on top still sat all the Christmas cards and even a small Christmas tree still decorated and luminated with colored lights.  A hymn book sat open on the piano’s music desk.

Mom walked into the kitchen and I followed.

Dad was stirring spaghetti sauce over the stove.  He turned around and looked at me with those pale blue eyes.  “Do you want an icepack for that?”

“I’ll be okay.”

“So what happened?”

I told them what happened.  They knew Nate, I had him over for dinner a few times and they had an understanding of his circumstances.  I did leave out the bit of coach Knoll hitting me.  I decided to keep that in my back pocket for now.

“The police officer said no one was pressing charges as long as we didn’t press charges,” said my mom after I had finished.

“How’s Nathan?” asked my dad.

“He got beat pretty good but he was biking home when I left.”

“What about graduation?”

“They expelled me, but I still have all my credits to graduate.  So I don’t know what that means.  I suppose I just won’t be allowed to go to the ceremony I guess.”

“You should go talk to the district office on Monday and find out.”

“Alright.”

“I’m glad you’re okay.  I wish you could have gotten an adult, but it sounds like you did the right thing.”

I didn’t say anything, I just watched the sauce my dad was stirring.

“Dinner’s almost ready, help your sister set the table.”

“Alright.”

After my dad finished with his work in the office that day when I was eight, we walked to the Atrium building downtown so my dad could drop something off with FedEx.

Most of the buildings were still connected downtown by skywalks.  Enclosed bridges that allowed you to go from building to building and stay out of the elements.  They were built back when each of these building had a department store.  The last couple of these stores closed when I was pretty young.  You could do all your Christmas shopping in the middle of a blizzard, go building to building staying warm and never getting your feet wet.  We crossed a few of these old skywalks to get to the FedEx drop box.

After dropping his package in the drop box we walked across the Atrium building.

“Hey you, over here!”

I turned to look and saw the same security guard, this time sitting behind a desk in the middle of the Atrium with his feet up on the desk.

“Don’t look at him, we’re leaving.”

I looked back once and he was standing motioning us to come to the desk.  He was smiling for whatever reason.  Then I was outside in the sunshine and the door closed and the tinted glass obscured my view of that small man.  Throughout the years as I got older and would go downtown occasionally, I would see that man but he never looked twice at me.  I guess he didn’t remember me.  It would anger me to see him but as I got older and bigger, he seemed older and smaller.

That was the day I learned words were a stronger weapon if you knew how to wield them.  I also learned to choose my battles.