The ruins to the right of me

"Here," the Elder Boy said, giving me a not so toothy smile and handing me a shucked baby tooth (his third.)

"Wow," I said walking into the kitchen and grabbing a sandwich bag. "You're losing them fast now." I sequestered the tooth into the bag and dropped it on our messy bar.

"Mom missed it...again," I said. "She's O for three with you losing your teeth."

"Yeah," he said.

"You can call her if you want."

"Really?" he said.

"Sure," I said. "Let me call her for you and you can tell her all about it."

Later that evening we (Me, E, and The Little Warrior, who was pissed he hasn't lost a tooth yet) were hunkered down on the sofa watching The Simpsons for Boy(s) night. Boy(s) night is what we call it when My Lovely Bride is away at a PTA meeting, (D)runco (read: Bunco,) Booze Club (read: Book Club), or the The Neighborhood (read: Gay Divorcee) Supper Club. This is where she happened to be this fine Sunday night, the third Sunday of the month which is when they have this supper club since the divorced Mom's don't have their kids (because of their custody arrangements.)

At some point in the evening the Elder Boy went to the bar and retrieved his bag o' tooth which ended up on the end table next to the sofa. After our second Simpsons episode it was time to call it a night (for the Boy(s)) and in the ensuing struggle to make that happen, we forgot about the tooth.

I'm pretty sure I would have remembered to place the Boy's tooth under his pillow before I went to bed, if I had not got sucked into Ghost Town.

This movie is billed as a comedy, which is what I expected. Instead I got a surprisingly wry commentary on loss that turns into a heartfelt lesson about the grief-stricken. Which is what got me in the end. I couldn't begin to think about the tooth fairy when I was thinking about my own ghosts, which we learn in this movie are still around because of what we are led to believe is their unfinished business. It isn't until the end that we learn it is their loved ones who have the unfinished business. The dead are dead. Or so it says. The living are the ones who have to deal with the aftermath. Things unsaid. Regret.

I'd normally say this plot was trite, if I just read what I wrote, but on this night, by myself, it was poignant. Especially one scene where the main character returns a stuffed animal to a small kid who had associated it with his dead Dad.

"He cries himself to sleep every night because he thinks the animal is lost...but it's really just under the car seat," is what the Ghost Dad tells the main character who at that point isn't listening. Or helping the ghosts who are wanting his help. After he has his awakening, realizing that a life not lived for others is not worth living, he returns the toy and realizes that the child's Mom (and the guy's widow) is his chatty and perky dental patient who had annoyed him at great lengths at the beginning of the movie. Clearly bereft, her previous demeanor was nothing but a facade. The scene in which they share this moment of realization is the one that got me. Actually it kicked me in the nuts. Hard. So much so, that after it was done, so was I.

Left wallowing in my own sad memories and unfinished business, I finally drug my ass to bed, and didn't think about the Boy's tooth until the next morning when he shouted, "We forgot my tooth!!!"

Fuck me, I thought, trying to think up a good story for my failure sans the first cup of coffee of the day.

"We forgot my tooth," he repeated.

"Yeah, a...a...a...," I stammered. "We did, didn't we?"

A question with a question. Father. Of. The. Year.

"We forgot my tooth," he repeated again.

"I want to lose a tooth." Wy chimed in, quite huffily.

"Yeah, a...a...a...," I stammered.

"We forgot my tooth."

"I haven't lost a tooth," Wy whined.

"We forgot my tooth."

"It's OK," I said to Ethan. "It doesn't matter when you put it under the pillow, just as long as you do. We'll put it under your pillow tonight when you go to bed."

As if.

That very night, My Lovely Bride was out of the house for a PTA meeting which made it another Boy(s) night. At some point the Elder Boy gave me the bag o' tooth which I again dropped on the messy bar. At some point, in my quest to de-clutter our pad, I grabbed the bag thinking it empty and stuck it back into the drawer where we keep the kitchen bags, aluminum foil, and cling wrap.

Out of sight, out of mind. I forget the damn tooth as I fought the usual, it is 8pm, and time to get ready for and go to bed battle with the Boy(s). After I had won said battle, and was settling down to watch How I Met Your Mother on DVR the Elder Boy screamed from his room, "DAD!!!"

I jumped out of my Throne of Impotence, running toward his room as he ran out of his room toward me.

We met in the hall.

"What!?!?!" I asked. "Are you alright?"

"We forgot my tooth," he said.

"Oh," I said.

"Where is it?" he asked.

"It's on the..." I said walking over to the de-cluttered bar.

"Where...!" he said in a panic since he could clearly see there was no bag o' tooth on the bar.

"Fuck me," I'm afraid to say, I said.

"Where's my tooth," he asked again with tears welling in his eyes. "Is it lost?"

"No," I said. "It can't be lost. Slow down and be quiet so I can think."

"Is it lost," he said again, tears now fully flowing down his cheeks.

Praise be to the Tooth Fairy, I guess, because at that instant, in a flash, I remembered what I had done.

"Here it is," I said triumphantly yanking it out of the drawer.

Nothing. The Boy just smiled a sad smile, as I walked him back to his room. I stuck the bag o' tooth under his pillow, kissed him good-night, ignored Ruby the Dog's penetrating stare, and marched back to my Throne of Impotence. I was about to push play to resume watching How I Met Your Mother when I realized I needed to remember to replace the bag o' tooth with money under the pillow before I went to bed.

Hopping out of my Throne of Impotence, I opened my wallet and was struck hard with a sense of déjà Stu. I had one one dollar bill in my wallet.

Fuck me.

Now, even though I'm quite often a dumbass in real time, I can learn from past mistakes, which is why I wrote my Lovely Bride a note explaining the situation so she would be able to cough up some Tooth Fairy $cratch when she returned from the PTA meeting. I left the note on the bar along with my one one dollar bill and settled back into my Throne of Impotence happy and unabashedly proud of myself.

I was about to push play on the DVR when I heard what sounded like sobbing coming from E's room. Only faint. Like he had his face in a pillow so I wouldn't hear him.

Confused, I again climbed out of my Throne of Impotence and walked down the hall to the Boy's room to investigate. When I opened the door I saw that my initial appraisal was correct. He was crying. Quite hard. With his face in the pillow which is why at first he didn't know I had walked into the room. It took Ruby the Dog jumping off the bed (she thought she was going to get another night time treat) for him to realize I was standing over him.

When he saw me, he started crying even harder.

"What's wrong son," I asked. "Why are you crying?"

But as soon as I asked, I knew.

I have a nearly eidetic memory for most everything, and this is especially true for emotional memories from my childhood.

Which is why when he sobbed, "I don't want to grow up," I didn't so much hear him as see myself at his age, sitting on my Mom's lap, looking at an old photo album and feeling a profound sense of sadness. Of loss. So much so that I wanted to cry. Only I didn't. My Mom even asked me what was wrong, and even though I wanted to tell her what Ethan had just told me, I didn't.

"I don't want to grow up," Ethan repeated.

"I know," I said, patting him on his back which made him cry harder.

"I don't want to grow up," he sobbed. "And...and...and...not..."

"be with me and Mommy," I said.

"Yeah."

"I know," I said. "Believe me, I know."

We sat in silence for a long time after that. I rubbed E's back and had a stare-off with Ruby the Dog who was trying to use mind control on me so I'd go and get her another Pup-Peroni treat from E's closet. That shit is like crack to her.

"You want to know a secret," I said.

"What," Ethan said pushing himself into a sitting position to better listen to what I was going to reveal.

"I remember being your age and feeling the same way."

"Really," he asked. "You didn't want to grow up?"

"Not exactly." I said. "I wanted to grow up, because the older you get the more stuff you can do, cool stuff."

"But there were times, when I'd see something, or something would happen, like losing a tooth, and I would get sad about growing up and not being with my Mom and Dad. With Granny and Pops."

"Yeah," he agreed.

"But the thing is, when you get older, how you feel about all that will change, you'll feel differently about it." I said.

"Really," he asked.

"Really," I said. "I promise."

The Boy smiled at that. A big sad yet sweet smile that pulled my heart strings, hard.

"Give me a hug son," I said. "I love you."

"I love you Daddy," he said as we hugged.

"Try not to think so hard," I said as we parted and I stood to leave the room.

"You ok," I asked.

"Yeah," he said.

"Ruby are you ok," I asked. She was still attempting mind control to get me to get her a Pup-Peroni treat.

"She wants another treat," Ethan said.

"Yeah," I said. "I know. She's trying to use mind control on me. Look at her eyes. She's thinking, You will walk to the closet and get me a Pup-Peroni."

"Yeah," Ethan laughed.

"What the hell," I said walking over to the closet and doing just that.

Ruby went ape shit.

"Might as well let her think it worked," I said.

"Good night son. I love you."

"Good night," he said turning over to go to sleep as Ruby the Dog danced around his feet, wagging her tail with a Pup-Peroni treat sticking out of her mouth.

I was once asked why I do this here BLOG. I mean, beyond the overarching principal of it being a chronicle for the Boy(s) in the Buck Rogers future. I think what the person really meant was this: why do I get so personal in this open of a forum.

I've been thinking of my answer a lot lately. Pretty much ever since that night in E's room, where I was faced with what I used to be. What I often still am. I've come to the conclusion that my answer was shit which needs to be revised.

I write what I write because it fulfills a need.

And that need is my ongoing battle of letting go.

Until I BLOG again...Will soon have lost sight of me.