*****
SATURDAY MORNING, MARKNeary stood inside his son's new workshop.Based on the angle of where he was standing, this workshop was quadruple the size of the one in his basement in Oregon.Along the walls were various projects in stages of completion.Today, he wanted to make a special chair for his new grandson although more than likely, would be nearly a year from now before he could fully use it.To Mark, it didn't matter.He had time and was spending it with his son.
Last night, he had watched the routine of husband and wife end their day.Helen sipped on tea as she read from her latest novel featuring serial killers as if it were some unwritten guide book on the depraved mind, using Jay as an oversized pillow.Jay, as he sat, looked through woodworking catalogs, searching for items for upcoming projects.Mark found it all to be...peaceful.
His wife, Ruth, God bless her soul, was never quiet and sitting still unless she'd reached a comatose level of sleep.From the moment her feet hit the floor on her side of the bed, she was moving.At times, he grew tired simply watching her scuttlebutt her way through a day.He admired Helen for getting ahead of Ruth, giving her a pointed task, a preset budget, and a head count.The head count and guest list he muddled over through the night, resulting in a fitful sleep.His mind focused on what Helen was not saying, which caused him to pause.Deep in his own thoughts, his son pulled him from the runaway train in his brain.
“Hey, Daddy,” Jay said, breaking his train of thought.“Do you know what kind of chair or what kind of wood you want to use?”
“I have some fabric leftovers from when Ruth had my chair reupholstered,” he said.“I want to do something with padding, like a mini wingback or a kiddie rocker, but that is a tough build that might be out of my skill range.”
“There are a few plans for kid chairs in that binder on the second shelf, the blue one,” Jay said, pointing.
Mark reached for the binder, flipping open the pages.He cleared his throat, “Speaking of kids...the boy with you in the photo?”
“Oscar,” Jay replied.
“Oscar, who is he?You two seem to be pretty close.Anything I need to know?”Mark asked, giving a sly grin.
“Nothing to add other than Helen rescued him that night when she freed those women; he was chained up in a dark closet by The Collector,” he said.“He's with Bad Apple now, and he asked me to be his dad.”
Mark stared at him as if he were listening to a hard-wrought confession of a burglar not stealing the watches he currently was holding in his hands.“For some reason, you've developed this habit of dropping a shit ton of information on me in one blow.I'm digesting most of that, but why did he ask you to be his...wait.What?What did you say?”
“I didn't,” Jay said.“He said if I changed my mind, I knew where to find him then he gave me his Christmas wish list.”
Mark's facial expression didn't change.“Are you considering it?”
“Not really, but kind of sorta,” Jay said.“Don't know how you feel about another non-blood related carrying your name.”
“Is that why you don't want any?You're worried about me being concerned about having kids that carry my name?”
“Not really, but kind of sorta,” he mumbled.“Taking in one wayward black kid makes you and Mama Ruth look saintly by giving the poor chap your name.Having me produce a bunch of other black kids and give them your name makes me feel some kind of way.”
“Jay, I never knew you felt like that,” Mark said.“Besides its dumb, considering your cousins are all biracial.”
“What cousins are biracial?”
“My brother Joe’s wife, Mary, her mother was the same shade of beautiful as your wife,” he explained.“A very lovely woman, but she cooked meat at every meal, which is why that house still smells like liniment and meat pies.”
“Aunt Mary is bi-racial?I didn’t know that!”
“Have you looked at Zeke’s hair?He took on a lot of his grandma’s hair texture and got all them waves, and Gabe’s skin tone isn’t from good tanning,” Mark said.“You’re being silly.My grandkids are beautiful, and your kids would be as well, and I would love them, although me and that Naomi are going to have to come to some form of agreement here pretty soon.Her and that little attitude of hers!”
Mustang heard everything his father was saying, but in the back of his mind were the moments of uncertainty.He often wondered, since he never saw any more of his biological grandmother’s kids, if there were others who carried the family name.
“Well, what if I wanted at one time to have kids, and maybe have them carry on my family name?For all I know, I may have been the last Greenson male, and the line ended with me,” he said, “but mainly, kids are germ carriers and needy.I don't want any.”
“Jay, I sat you and Michael down and said you needed to produce some Neary men.You carry my name because you're my son, and I love you.I would fight an arsonist loaded with a gas canister or mow down a field of hardwoods with a hacksaw if necessary to protect you.There is nothing I wouldn't do for you,” Mark said.“You have my blessing if you want to make that boy a Neary.Is he a nice kid?”
“He's cool, a little different, but a straight shooter,” Mustang answered, providing a smile.“I asked Oscar what makes him think I would make a good dad, and he said Helen.He looked me dead in my eyes and said that woman don't stand for no bullshit, so you can't be her man and be about some bullshit.”
Mark Neary burst into laughter.“She is something, I must say.How she found my soft spot was creepy.”
“Daddy, she's been around you for nearly a year, cooking beside Mom, watching you with Micheal and Naomi,” he said.“She sees how you love and what is important to you.”
“My family is important to me,” he replied.
“She's learned that and saved a spot on the wall for one of the photos she's just taken of us,” he said as the door closed softly behind her as she left.
