Mom lives in a state of perpetual worry, and even herfunis marred by it.
But I get it.She spent the first half of her adulthood in a terrible marriage to my father, Dale Greene, before courageously ousting the smoker, drinker, and bully from our lives.On top of that, she had me, an asthmatic, chronically ill child who could literally drop dead without his inhaler, and Venus, the wild girl next door, who routinely tested Mom’s boundaries.It’s no wonder that Mom still lives in a worst-case-scenario mindset.
All the what-ifs overwhelm me too, sometimes.
Even so, watching Olly trying to respectfully enjoy his new toy, though clearly not having any fun, solidifies what I already know—I don’t want this for him.He’s too young to worry about first-aid kits and sanitizing his hands every five seconds.I want him to be brave and confident, a kid who’ll jump into puddles and climb trees, despite the messes and scratches that might come with it.I want him to have a fun, memorable childhood, filled with adventures and cool stories to tell, just like I had because of Venus.
“I know you thinkI’mbrave, Henry, but… ”she said one afternoon after I randomly shared that King Henry VIII had a suit of armor made for his dog, and joked that he could be called Sir Barks-A-Lot.“Amusing me is a monumental feat, and you do it with ease.I believe that you’re exceptionally capable.”
Those words stayed with me, like she branded them to my soul—I’m exceptionally capable.Without those words on mental replay, I doubt I would’ve had the confidence to be a father.
Mom doted on me, inadvertently making me feel weak.
My father belittled me, reinforcing my insecurities.
Venus busted through my preconceived limitations and made me believe I could do anything.Andshewas right.
“Hey, Olly, why don’t you grab my gardening tools from the flower bed?”Fred says, with his charming Southern drawl.“Rough Bun-Bun up a bit, ’til he needs medical care.I got ketchup packets in the junk drawer, if you wanna make it realistic.”
Olly perks up and races off.
“Don’t run with gardening shears, Olly,” I say, hating myself a little for it.
“So, when’s the big camping trip?”Fred asks, tilting his beer in my direction.
“Soon.I haven’t set a date yet.With everything at the museum and us getting into our new summer routines, I didn’t want to overdo it.”
“It’ll be good for Olly to get his hands dirty and have fun outdoors.”
“Good for us both,” I say.“Um, are you interested in coming along?”
He chuckles good-naturedly.“I may look feral, but I’m more of an indoor cat, Henry.”
It’s a remarkably apt analogy—Fredisthe human version of an alley cat.His old-school mullet hairstyle and beard look scruffy, but somehow work for him.His darkly tanned skin displays colorful tattoos that have faded with age and sun exposure, and his hands and fingernails seem perpetually covered in oil stains and grease, no matter how much he cleans them—the curse of being an auto-mechanic, he says.
He’s also one of the nicest, most generous men I’ve ever met, which hurts his street-cat claim.The day Mom’s car broke down outside Fred’s Garage on the way to an urgent doctor’s appointment for my unyielding cough was serendipitous—Mom’s timing belt went out at the right time.Fred dropped everything to take us to my appointment, and has been there for us ever since.
Though I expected he’d turn me down, having another adult for our first camping trip might’ve tempered my anxiety over it.The camping trip wasmyidea,myplan to make some outdoorsy memories with Olly while teaching him not to be afraid.
ButI’mafraid, and it makes little sense considering all the play groups, sports, day trips, and unusual classes we’ve done together.Pickleball and medieval cosplay with wooden swords are two recent examples.Olly and I don’t shy away from trying new things.
Camping is different, though.I haven’t camped since I was a kid, and then, I had Venus.She not only knew every plant, insect, and animal, but she existed fearlessly among them as if in her natural habitat, too.Nothing stopped or slowed her down, except for me.I promised Olly I’d take him on an adventure like the ones in my stories about Vee.
But the supplies sit in a corner of our apartment, tags still on.
I just keep thinking,what if.What if he gets stung, bitten, or exposed to something harmful?What if he’s scared?What if I have an asthma attack?What if I can’t find my inhaler and Olly is left alone, unable to get help?What if I’m weak and frail, just like Dale always claimed?
“Just be Henry.You’re brave, kind, and capable, just as you are.”Venus’s voice slips through my thoughts like raindrops over leaves.
“You’ve bought all the supplies.You’re going to a well-populated public park.You’ll be fine, Henry,” Fred says, breaking me from my memories.
“Fine about what?”Mom asks, slipping through the sliding glass door with a pitcher of lemonade and cups.
“Campin’,” Fred answers.
She rolls her eyes.“As if you don’t have enough to worry about.You should put it off until the fall, when it’s not as humid, and there are fewer allergens to trigger your asthma.Olly!Lemonade!”
Olly pops up from his spot on the ground, where he’s nearly dissected Bun-Bun’s left leg and doused the wound in ketchup.He wipes his hands on his shorts, leaving red trails behind.
