Parental Confusion
Dean was being chased.
There were, perhaps, five boys running after him in the grassy and vacant lot in hot pursuit. Dean allowed a bit of a cocky grin to appear on his face “ they wouldn’t be able to catch him. He began to run a zigzagging pattern, being careful all the while to keep the football in front of him. Glancing up, Dean saw the outline of the pale and skinny boy who was guarding the goal. Without slowing down, Dean lined up his shot, and gave the ball a vicious kick.
The boy playing goalie didn’t stand a chance. The football flew past his shoulder so fast that he didn’t even have time to react. Dean pumped his fist in victory “ that had been his fifth goal today. If he scored two more times, he would break the record that he had set just two months previously.
As everyone paused to catch their breath, Dean wandered over to where the other boys were standing. They were all gathered around something, but Dean couldn’t tell what it was.
“Oy, Dean!” One of the boys who had been chasing him called out.
“Yeah?”
There was a pause before the boy finally admitted, “It’s six-thirty, Dean.” The boy said the phrase almost reluctantly and with the air of breaking awful news.
“Not again!” Dean exclaimed. He let out a tortured breath and clapped a hand to his forehead. The boys all nodded rather sheepishly.
One of the younger boys whom Dean had never really paid attention to piped up nervously. “Stella said if you were late, you could use her window again.”
“How do you know?” Dean asked rather suspiciously.
“I saw her yesterday,” the boy said the words to the grass of the vacant lot rather than to Dean.
Nodding, Dean said, “Sorry mates, I have to go.” They all nodded and watched as he turned and sprinted off down the street.
Just before Dean rounded the corner, he heard a voice call, “I hope your dad don’t catch you!”
Legs pumping madly, Dean fervently hoped that himself.
--
Dean only lived three blocks from the lot where he played football with his friends. He had actually spent most of his summer at the vacant lot, honing his football skills. Dean hoped that by the time school started in another month, he would be talented enough to be on his school team.
Living three blocks away was also handy when Dean was late. His father was a real stickler for curfew. Especially Dean’s curfew. For some reason that Dean couldn’t figure out, his sister Stella, who was a year younger, had never gotten in trouble for being late. And his brother, Jay, who was two years younger, seemed to be his father’s favorite. Dean couldn’t even remember the last time that Jay had gotten in trouble for anything.
Dean slowed down as he reached his house. It was a modest house, with rather tired gray paint and a brick chimney. From across the street, Dean could see that his family was sitting around the dinner table, eating. Dean cursed “ he was even later than usual.
Walking in through the front door wasn’t an option “ his father would demand an explanation for why he was late. If Dean snuck in through Stella’s window, he could pretend that he had been asleep and had missed the call for dinner.
Mentally patting himself on the back for his excellent plan, Dean hurried across the street to his house. When he reached the yard, he lay down on his front and began to slither, commando-style, across the lawn. Hopefully, no one would see him if he snuck around that way.
When he reached the side of the house, Dean stood up and brushed the dirt off of his blue shirt. Looking up to the second story, he saw that Stella had very kindly left her window open for him. Although it was on the second floor, there was lattice work beneath it on which Dean’s mother grew her flowering vines.
Dean quickly walked over to the white structure, while carefully avoiding the mud puddle that a faulty sprinkler must have made in the grass. He quickly found two handholds in the lattice work and hoisted himself up. The wooden structure groaned with the addition of his weight, but Dean ignored it and began to climb.
Hand, hand.
Foot, foot.
Hand, hand.
Foot, foot.
Hand, hand.
Foot, foot.
It was strenuous work, hauling himself up. In fact, Dean didn’t even realize that he was tired until he had to stop half-way up to catch his breath.
Gasping for air, Dean held on to the creaking wood. Once he was able to breathe again, Dean resumed his climbing.
Hand, hand.
Foot, foot.
Hand, hand.
Foot “ CRACK!
Dean had never felt the sensation of falling before. It was a curious feeling “ like he was both weightless and extraordinarily heavy at the same time. Time seemed to have stopped and the feeling was endless. Dean was falling, falling, falling…
And then he wasn’t. Dean hadn’t realized that his eyes were closed until he opened them. He was lying in something soft and the sky was a dazzling blue. For a moment, Dean was convinced that he had died and gone to Heaven. He shut his eyes again quickly “ if he was truly dead, he didn’t want to see himself.
Then the ground shook. Feeling confused, Dean cracked an eye partially open. He could see a pair of polished black loafers rushing towards him.
“DEAN!” bellowed the owner of the dark and shiny shoes, “What in the world are you doing?”
The shoes stopped several feet away from Dean’s face and he was able to see that another pair of shoes, a pair of blue sandals, were running towards him as well.
“Dean, DEAN! Are you alright? What happened?” His mother did not stop, but instead rushed to his side, bent down, and peered into her son’s face.
Dean looked into his mother’s face “ it was full of worry and concern for the well-being of her oldest son.
“I’m alright, Mum,” Dean managed to say. He tried to sit up, but his head felt woozy and his back was wet.
Dean could feel his mother supporting him with one hand and gently patting him with her other, checking for broken bones. His back still felt horribly wet and sticky.
Looking back at his mother, Dean saw that some of the worry had left her eyes. “You seem alright, dear. How do you feel?”
Dean actually felt rather well, considering that he’d just fallen two stories. His back, though, was worrying. It would have taken an enormous injury for it to bleed as much as it was currently.
“Mum?” Dean asked. “How’s my back?”
“It’s fine, don’t worry,” she said soothingly.
Dean figured she must have been lying to save him from the horror of the injury. “Mum,” he replied, “I can take it.”
“I know you can, dear. It’s just a little bit of mud. It will wash out. There’s nothing to worry about.” She patted Dean on the head and turned to her husband.
Mud?
Then Dean realized what she had said - he’d fallen into the mud puddle! Somehow, he’d been lucky enough to avoid the falling wood and the hard ground. He’d landed in the mud. The faulty sprinkler had saved him from injury!
Suddenly, Dean felt two large hands on his shoulders. “Alright, young man, I think it’s high time we went inside.”
Abruptly, Dean was picked up and set on his feet. Shaking his head to clear it from the dizziness of changing position, Dean saw that his father was wearing a stony expression. Silently, his father put a hand on his shoulder and they walked across the yard and into the house.
--
The silence of the house was broken by Dean’s mother shutting the door quietly as she followed Dean and his father in. As Dean and his father passed the kitchen, Dean could see Stella and Jay looking at him with curious expressions.
They did not stop to talk with his brother and sister, but instead continued down the hall until they reached the stairs. Dean’s father dropped his hand from its previous resting place on Dean’s shoulder and indicated that Dean should walk upstairs.
Feeling rather apprehensive, Dean wondered why his father wasn’t talking to him. When he reached the top of the stairs, Dean turned right, walked past Stella’s room, and pushed open the door to his own bedroom.
There were posters of his favorite football teams adorning the walls and the small bookcase in the corner was filled with all sorts of books about sports. His desk beneath the widow was cluttered with doodles and drawings that he had made and his small bed in the corner had a red coverlet on top. The bed looked awfully inviting and Dean sat down on it. It took Dean several moments to realize that his father was still standing in the doorway. They looked at each other for a long moment before his father broke the silence.
“You stay here. Your mother will bring you dinner.”
With that brief declaration, his father shut the door and left Dean to wonder about what might happen.
Dean felt the comfort of his bead beckoning him to lie down. He did so and it was a relatively short time until Dean was fast asleep.
--
He awoke an hour later to someone knocking on his door.
“Unngh?” He grunted sleepily.
“Mum said you would want dinner.” A girl with pigtails secured by two yellow ribbons poked her head around the door.
“Oh, sure. Thanks, Stella.” Dean sat up and rubbed his eyes. His head wasn’t pounding as badly and he wasn’t quite as dizzy as he had been an hour ago.
Stella entered the room and handed Dean a plate with a thick sandwich. Watching Dean take an enormous bite out of the meal, she said quietly, “Daddy’s not very happy with you.”
“Oh yeah? What else is new?” Dean said after swallowing.
“No, really Dean. He made Jay and I go to our rooms and he was talking in the kitchen with Mum. I heard him say that destroying the yard was the last straw and he doesn’t know why he puts up with you.”
“I didn’t destroy the yard!” Dean exclaimed. “I just knocked the lattice stuff off of the wall. And of course he has to ‘put up with me’ “ I’m his son!”
“I know. And then he said stuff about how you’re always late and never follow the rules that he puts down.” Stella looked rather uncomfortable. “But that’s what I heard, anyways.”
“Thanks, Stella.” Dean felt a rush of compassion for his ten year-old sister. She had always been so kind to him, no matter what happened.
Stella smiled shyly at him and turned to leave. “Good night, Dean,” she whispered while shutting the door.
“ ‘Night, Stella.” Dean sat back and munched on his sandwich thoughtfully. Why on earth would his father merely ‘put up with him’ while he seemed to absolutely love his other children?
It was a mystery that Dean’s tired brain couldn’t solve. Finishing his meal, Dean rolled over and went back to sleep.
--
Breakfast the next morning was a tense affair.
Dean was on the receiving end of many glares that his father shot towards him over the newspaper. Every time it happened, Dean’s mother would look reproachfully at her husband, but he merely shifted the paper.
The general awkward feeling that had descended upon the breakfast table was punctuated by eight year-old Jay’s chatter about his plans for the day.
“…and then I’m gonna make a mud castle! Right, Mum?”
His mother gave him a small smile and said rather distractedly, “We’ll see, dear.”
The toast that Dean was eating was dry and tasteless, despite the orange marmalade that was slathered on top. He wasn’t hungry and asked to be excused from the table. His mother gave him permission and his father rustled the newspaper.
Dean shook his head, walked out of the kitchen, and back upstairs to his bedroom. Perhaps ten minutes later, he was joined by a wide-eyed and frightened looking Stella.
“What’s wrong, Stella?” There was urgency in his voice “ his sister was level headed and rarely got upset.
Tears were making her eyes shine and she sniffed before answering, “They’re fighting!”
Dean was confused. “Who?”
In a tear-choked voice, Stella said almost incredulously, “Mum and Daddy!”
“What?” In all of Dean’s memories, his parents had never fought. There had been occasional irritation between the two, but never an actual fight.
Disbelievingly, he walked out into the hallway, only to hear his mother’s voice from behind the closed kitchen door. “I don’t understand, Jack. It was an accident! Dean didn’t mean to break it and I for one am glad that he’s in one piece. Why are you reacting this way?”
“I told you. He is blatantly defying my authority!” His father’s voice rose dramatically at the end of his assertion.
“Don’t yell, Jack!” His mother sounded exasperated. “Just because he’s come home late doesn’t mean he’s defying your authority. He’s young! You have to forgive your son’s mistakes.”
There was a pause before Dean’s father responded in a voice so low that Dean had to strain to hear him. “He’s no son of mine.” The voice was bitter and scathing “ one that Dean had never heard before. It sent chills up Dean’s spine.
Dean’s mother gasped in outrage. “Of course he is your son! And I don’t see why you won’t forgive him for a small mistake.”
“I’m not his father, damn it! And I know that he’s displaying whatever tendencies that his pathetic father had, because my children certainly don’t behave like he does.”
“When I married you,” Dean’s mother’s voice was low and angry, “You adopted Dean. You are his legal father. And I expect you to act that way.”
There was silence and Dean could imagine his parents staring at each other, waiting for the other to back down first. Then he heard his father “ could he still be considered his father? “ speak. His voice was no longer angry. In fact, it sounded quite calm and composed.
“Does Dean have any reason to suspect that I am not his father?”
His mother sounded scandalized, “You know I wouldn’t have told him that!”
“Then let’s keep it that way.” His father had an air of finality in his voice and Dean scurried back to his room when he heard his father walking towards the kitchen door.
As he shut his door quietly, what he had just heard began to sink in. The man who had always been in the role of a father to Dean wasn’t his father.
But who was?
The question hung around Dean’s head. Who could his father be to abandon him and his mother? What kind of a person did that?
Then a wave of anger washed over Dean “ why wouldn’t his mother tell him? He had every right to know who his father was!
Maybe his real father was a horrible man and his mother was ashamed of him. That would explain the reaction she had, Dean thought sullenly.
Dean’s inner voice screamed, but I still want to know who he was!
“Dean? May I come in, dear?” His mother’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Oh, um, sure, Mum.” Dean was rather flustered but turned and looked at her anyways.
His mother looked more tired than she usually did and there was an unfamiliar glint - could it be determination? - in her eyes. She was also carrying a large and yellowish envelope in her hands.
“Dean,” she began without preamble, “I’m sure you heard our conversation downstairs.” She paused while Dean nodded in affirmation. “When your father left, he gave me this with the instructions that I could not open it without your express permission and that you would receive it during the summer that you turned eleven.”
Dean looked at the envelope again. It was rather old looking and shabby “ as if it had been stuffed into the back of a drawer and recently pulled out.
She held the battered envelope out to him, “Here you are, dear.”
Once he had taken it, she slowly walked out of the room and left Dean alone with his envelope.
Dean stared at it in awe. His father had written something to him! Within a period of an hour, Dean had learned of this person and now, whoever he was, Dean had tangible proof that he existed.
Euphoria bubbled up within him as he stared at the neat script on the front. It was addressed merely to ‘Dean’ and the ink was beginning to fade along the ‘D’.
It was from his father!
Eagerly, Dean ripped open the stiff yellow paper in order to find the sole connection that he had with this mysterious new father of his.
My Father's World by Indigoenigma
Chapter Notes: Many thanks to my beta, Fenn (FenrirG)! She did a fantastic job, don't you think?
And, as always, I am not JK Rowling.
Also, reviews are highly appreciated!
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