Tilting the snow globe ever so slightly for the golf ball to land on it’s tee and stay. He seems to have it at the perfect level, speed, and the ball is making it’s way up the tee. Then, as it’s about to land, the speed of leveling off the snow globe is too fast causing it to fall off. This task, it what holds his attention during these required hours that he’s forced to sit here.
He enjoys the feeling of his feet against the shag rag. While doing this, he sits on the edge of the couch, which is arched up on the one side, it’s meant for him to lay down and face her while she sits at or desk or at her chair. It’s a nice view, he can look out the window, but that’s not why he’s here. So he sits up right, to avoid engaging and plays with the snow globe each week to get the ball on the tee, it holds his attention. Every so often, after constantly failing he’ll look up at her book shelves to mix it up.
“Chase.” He looks over to her sitting in her chair, legs cross and hands relax on her arms rest as he leans back. “How did this week go?”
Chase turns back to the ball, trying to get it on the tee. Same questions he thinks, there is not real mix to this woman is there? “How did it go?” He says under his breathe but he knows she can still hear him. He continues to play with the tee and fails yet again. He puts it down on the coffee table in front of him, then stands and makes his way across the room to look at her book shelves.
She then turns her chair to be directed at him and watches as he exams her shelves for the up-tenth time. The pen in her hand she starts tapping in the air then chews on the tip slightly. She quickly stops, her habit of chewing on pen caps irks Chase and will lead him into these tangent of questions that she cannot stand. Thankfully she stopped before he turned to look at her.
“What’s this book?” He pulls a book off the shelf that has a red cover with an arrow pointing up then one pointing down.
“It’s called Crazy Love, it’s written by Francis Chan. Do you know him?” She says in a calm voice. Her eyes are holding his and he realizes she’s waiting for him to answer.
Chase puts the book back to where he pulled it from, “I may have heard of him from one of my kids talking about him. Yeah, that’s probably it. Why do you have it?”
“A close friend gave it to me to read and I did, then I read it again. Each time I’ve read it, I’ve been at a different point in my life and each time it has gotten me through that time. I’ve learned a little something new about myself.” Chase is now looking at her and realizing there is not a lie or something in that statement to get him to say something. He doesn’t like it.
Chase moves back to the couch and lays down. He stares at the ceiling with his one arm pulled back to be behind is head and his forearm rest under his head. “How much time is left?”
She checks her watch, “Ten minutes.”
“Well, today didn’t drag on.” He gives a slight smirk and looks at her then back at the ceiling. “Have I told you about my family.”
“A small amount. You’ve shared how you care about them dearly and you couldn’t image being without them. Oh and that you don’t want to lose them.” She continues to look at him while she says all this.
Chase shifts a little while she speaks these words. The words hit him harder than he was thinking, the thought of losing his family. Of all the things she could have said she choose to phrase it with ‘lose them.’ He lets the silence fill the room, time elapsing more so that he can have the final word.
She watches as his face changes, clearly deep in thought. From previous sessions she knows not to say anything, too many questions rattle him and that can set him off. Today he seems calm, like he’s having a good day.
“I wasn’t talking about them.” His words linger in the air, the emotion behind Chase’s words weren’t anger or sadness. He wasn’t even matter-of-fact about his statement. It wasn’t his wife or children that he was talking about. His family that he grew up with. This sinks in to her and now she’s not sure where he’s going with this.
“No Chase, I guess you weren’t. I’m sorry for assuming.” She begins to write and Chase watches her for a while. Her face never changes. She’s always so calm. This let’s him relax. Chase notices the only change is her hair slowly moving in front of her face. Chase watches her move it slowly behind her ear. He sits up and goes back to playing with the golf ball.
“My Dad was a hard ass. No not even a hard ass, he didn’t know how to work. He was a sure piece of work. Do you know what it’s like sleeping under a bridge?” He calmly speaks and plays with the golf ball, still failing to get it on the tee. “Yeah, it’s not a lot of fun. Sometimes Dad decided to not pay taxes, work, or do anything that an adult should do.” Chase pauses and says softly, “It’s not what a Father’s should do.” He almost gets the golf ball on the tee. Chase’s whole body moves slowly, even his legs helping him tilt. The ball falls off the edge. “Yeah, my Mom would be a wreck. When I became a teenager it became easier to leave. The few friends I could reach, they would let me stay over for a night, but when they ran out, that was the only place to turn. Not exactly fun when it’s cold out.”
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