We Walk in Footprints by Ellyn Weaver

Author:Ellyn Weaver
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gatekeeper Press
Published: 2019-01-16T16:00:00+00:00

That Friday Austin came home with blood in his eye: tough week, rough flight, traffic from the airport a quagmire. Piling on, in the mail an envelope from Joe. Danny’s soccer ball lay at his feet. He kicked it down the hallway. Annoyed, he growled. “Damn it, Danny!”

His face a kid’s confusion, Danny came to the door of his room.

Pointing to the ball, Austin ordered sternly, “Keep your toys in your room. Someone could fall on this and break their neck.”

Scooping up the ball, Danny disappeared inside his room.

Continuing into their bedroom where Jenny was putting laundry into drawers, bushed, he sputtered. “Do they have to tear up all the streets at once?”

“Everyone’s complaining,” she responded. “You must be hungry.”

Hunger was the last thing on his mind. “Don’t hold dinner for me. I had a late lunch.”

A compliant look, she left the room.

Native stoicism, he thought, guilts seeping in around sharp edges. He couldn’t face the envelope from Joe, or disappointed looks from his wife and son. Pouring a shot of bourbon from the flask he carried in his briefcase, he downed it, poured another. Stripped to his underwear, he sprawled on the bed. The lights went out.

In the morning, empty stomach growling, he took a shower and dressed before he walked into the kitchen. “Hey, any leftovers?” he asked, pouring a cup of coffee from the pot. No one looked him in the eye.

“Good morning.” Jenny gave him a cautious sideways glance.

The look on Danny’s face said: Which dad turned up this morning?

Not big on apologies, Austin figured it was up to him to clear the air. A boy has no idea the crap a man deals with. “Hey Danny,” he began, shifting footing. “I yelled at you last night because someone could fall and get hurt.”

Eyes fixed on the table, Danny listened without protest.

“Can you give me your assurance you’ll put your toys away?”

Danny looked up. “Does that mean I have to promise?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes I forget.”

“Don’t let it happen again. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“We’ll shake on it, son.” Firmly Austin took Danny’s hand. The boy went to his room, chagrined.

Austin took down a box of cereal, poured flakes into a bowl, opened the fridge, gazed inside. “Milk?”

“On the door,” Jenny directed.

He retrieved the carton, took his breakfast to the table. “Soooo,” he began. “You think I was too hard on him.”

She shook her head. “No. You were right.” Bringing the coffee pot to the table, she continued. “Boys need to understand consequences.”

“You do think I was too hard on him.”

“If I did, I’d say so.”

He dropped the subject, finished his cereal. After that, he took the calculator and the games he’d bought into Danny’s room. Until lunch was ready, they played math games. Danny seemed intrigued and Austin had reason to believe a game had gotten into Danny’s head.

Lunch over and in need of fresh air, she took Danny to the playground. Alone in the apartment, Austin spread out the contents of the envelope from Joe: Boy Scouts, YMCA, Bureau of Indian Affairs, Iroquois Nations; paid staff and volunteers involved in planning and activities.

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