Hello Dad was first published in Witness, Volume 35, Issue No. 1 in the Spring of 2022.
The first time Jojo ever met his father, it was at age five in the hospital. It had started out like most other summer days. Blurry eyed sitting at the breakfast table as his harried mother shoved platefuls of eggs in front of her brood before rushing off to her clerk job down at the mill, prying last minute promises from Jojo’s middle sister, Janel, that she would make sure all of the younger ones finished their breakfasts and that the dishes got cleaned. Then she was gone out the door, her faded slacks pumping towards the car, rushing in panic that she might be late.
The demeanour changed the moment the door slammed shut. There were six of them all together; Joshua, Julie, Janel, Jacob, James, and Jojo at the bottom of the heap. Joshua and Julie both headed upstairs to get ready for their own jobs, summer employment at the bowling alley and ice cream shop respectively. Jojo much preferred the rare times visiting his sister at her place of work than his brother. Though the clatter of ball and pins was entertaining, it didn’t involve free samples.
Janel worked as well, selling concessions at the movie theater, but not until the evening after their mother got home. Her task was to be the watcher, a role in which she was an abject failure. The moment the bald tires of the car spit gravel propelling their mother away, Janel stalked upstairs to use the phone next to their mother’s bed, undoubtedly to call some spindly armed middle school boy or one of her girlfriends with tongues sharper than a wasp’s stinger. She would soon be gone, not returning even for lunch, and it was always a gamble on whether or not she would have time to do the dishes before their mother’s return.
Jacob and James went into the living room to mindlessly gaze at the poor wonder that was weekday morning television. Within minutes they were wrestling on the floor, pummeling at each other with wild abandon. Jacob usually won these bouts now. They had once been evenly matched, but Jacob was getting bigger. The changing dynamic had been bad for Jojo, who was often sought out by James looking to reclaim the taste of his occasional former victories.
Jojo did not wait around for the contest to be decided. He carried his plate away from its companions still at the table, over to the counter where he scraped the half-cooked eggs, portions of the whites flowing like syrup, into the garbage. He placed a wadded up paper towel down on top, hiding his sin from view. Putting his plate back on the table with its fellows, he fled out the screen door into the wide world of morning sunshine and chirping birds.
Jojo was supposed to stay in the yard, but given the lack of a fence and the poor state of the yard, the boundary was hard to define. The house, with its peeling paint, stood far back from the main road, connected by a slim strip of gravel which became a maze of puddles every time it rained. Jojo walked behind the house, past a patio chair broken by Jacob just the other day, and slipped in amongst the birch, holly, and hornbeam. It did not take long of moving into the depths for the ruckus of the house to fade away. It was cooler in the shade, but the air hung more heavy, Jojo’s breaths feeling more akin to gulping mouthfuls of dusty water.
Jojo felt the first pangs when he moved into the surrounding trees. A sharp stab in his abdomen, and for a moment he was afraid, but then it faded and was gone. He shook his head to clear it and then continued on his way. About a mile from the house was the old junk pile. A museum of rotting appliances, a rusted hulk of an old car, and various hunks of metal of various sizes, all overgrown by knotweed, foxtail, and ivy of both the poison and more innocuous varieties. Jojo rarely went into this land of forgotten waste anymore, though he still explored from time to time. His goal was just to the edge of it, beneath a ramshackle shelter of half rotted boards and sheet metal propped against a tangled grove of alder.
On hands and knees he crawled in through a gap, and for a moment he felt the sharp pain again, but then it faded. The floor was dirt and yellowed grass. Dust floated in the thin beams of sun poking their way through the interlocking layers of the barrier. Above were vague shadows punctuated by the pointy forms of rusty nails. In the corner sat Jojo’s treasure chest, an old backpack containing faded comic books pilfered from his brothers, well worn matchbox cars, and assorted rocks of interesting colors all contained in a garbage bag meant to protect them from the rain.
The morning sun climbed higher into the sky. It was hot in the shelter and Jojo soon began sweating profusely. The ache in his stomach was also gradually growing, its insistence gaining power with every turn of the thin colorful pages in his hands. Finally he could take it no longer, and crawling back out into the sunshine, he began the walk back home. James was in the yard when he arrived, hitting old cans from the trash with a stick. When he saw Jojo emerging from the trees he ran toward him, bringing him down with a solid tackle. Jojo started puking the moment he hit the ground, and James scampered away squealing with disgust. Jojo lay by himself amongst the patchy grass, willing his body to bring itself back under control.
Jojo eventually rose and made his way into the house. Joshua and James were making cheese and mayonnaise sandwiches, accentuating them with handfuls of store brand chips. Under temporary truce for lunch, they went into the living room to watch TV while they ate. Jojo drank some water and tried to eat some chips, but it did little to improve the pain in his gut. He went upstairs and tried to use the bathroom, but it did little to help either. He fought off the need to puke again, instead crawling into bed where he fell into a frightening dream world of piranhas trying to eat him from the inside out.
When he awoke his abdomen hurt so bad that he started to cry. James came upstairs to see what all the commotion was about, and jumped on top of Jojo to pummel him a bit, but retreated quickly when Jojo began to gag, getting out of the way just in time as burning bile hit the floor. James scurried downstairs and after a little bit Joshua came up to take his place. Joshua gazed at his brother crying and covered in sweat, Jojo’s head half hanging off the bottom bunk. He left without a word.
Jojo was uncertain how long afterwards it was that he heard the sound of the car pulling back in front of the house. He knew it was his mother’s car, he recognized the telltale squeak of the shocks when it came to a halt. He felt a sharp pang of guilt. It was too early in the day. His mother had left work early. She was always mad when she had to leave work early. He could hear her talking to James and Joshua downstairs. He was filled with dread as he heard her heavy footsteps rushing up the stairs.
Her face looked worried in the doorway. She felt his brow with soothing hands and asked him questions, the answers of which led the hands down to his abdomen. She asked him more questions, every answer scrinching the lines between her eyebrows tighter. She went into her bedroom and halfway closed the door. Jojo could see her on the telephone, her slacks stretched tightly across her ample rump. She called one number after another, searching her way through known friends and haunts of her middle daughter. When she finally guessed right she raised her voice to the volume and tone she used when no argument was allowed. When she hung up she came back into the bedroom Jojo shared with his brothers and told him they were going into town. Jojo was in no condition to disagree.
The car bounced down the gravel road at a higher speed than normal, every jarring squeak of the shocks accompanied by a sharp stab of pain in Jojo’s belly. In the clinic waiting room he sat holding his mother’s hand, leaning against her comforting bulk. It seemed to take forever for it to be their turn. Jojo was shivering when they were finally led through the door to the rooms beyond.
The physician was young, and Jojo could see the concern in his mother’s eyes at the young man’s appearance, the crows feet around her eyes tightening, but she voiced none of her misgivings, instead answering questions which were then asked again, this time directed at Jojo who answered with simplistic phrasing common to those of his age who are sick. The doctor had Jojo take off his shirt and then plied him with cold hands and instruments. He started talking to Jojo’s mother, saying words that Jojo didn’t really understand, but the creases on her face got deeper as he spoke.
The nurse led them back out to the waiting room. Jojo’s mother got out her cell phone and made a call, utilizing her no nonsense voice once again. She held Jojo close to her as she spoke. After that they went out and waited in the car with the windows down to let in a light breeze. Jojo wasn’t sure how long they waited, but after awhile Joshua came riding up on his little rattling motorbike. Jojo stayed in the car while his mother talked to his older brother. Joshua pressed a wad of money into her hands. She asked him a question and he nodded with the air of an eldest child. The worry lines were growing deeper. Jojo’s mother hugged her oldest son. Jojo couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Joshua allow himself to be hugged. Joshua peered in the car at Jojo and then got back onto his motorbike and rode away. Jojo’s mother got back into the car and began driving without a word.
They drove for a little over two hours, Jojo sleeping in fits through most of it, waking up occasionally to the world gradually growing darker and his mother constantly fiddling with the knobs of the radio, jumping from station to station. The lights of the city began flashing by the car, and eventually they pulled up to a large building where Jojo had never been before, at least as far as he could remember. His mother carried him in through sliding glass doors. After that things became rather fuzzy.
At some point he ended up in a wheeled bed in a little room, his clothes taken and replaced by a gown with no back. Soon after he was taken to another room, where a smiling woman rubbed gel on him and then rubbed his belly with what she called her magic wand. Then it was back to the little room. A doctor came in to speak to Jojo’s mother, an older woman this time, and as she spoke Jojo could see the color draining from his mother’s face, her hands involuntarily pushing their way upward through the gray hairs sprouting from her temples. Then she was just outside in the hallway on her cellphone, talking to someone in a hushed voice, at first with her no nonsense tone, then with a strange desperate pleading. Jojo could see tears in his mother’s eyes and she turned away when she saw him looking. Soon after a nurse came in and jabbed him with a needle, after which things seemed to melt together into a single blur. Jojo felt as though he should feel scared, but he didn’t feel much of anything. The pain in his gut eased and disappeared. They wheeled him from the little room again, his mother following, but they left her in another waiting room. He was surrounded by bright lights and people in masks. Someone put a mask over his face and asked him to help count down from ten. He got to three before the world slipped away.
It was morning when Jojo woke back up in the little room. His mother was sitting in a chair. A man was sitting in the chair next to her, softly holding her hand. Her head had been on the man’s shoulder, her eyes half closed, but she sprang to life the moment she saw Jojo was awake. She rushed over to hug and coddle him. The man stayed in his chair. The world still seemed only half focused, but Jojo did his best to study the figure before him. He was a big man, but soft and round, wearing rumpled dockers without a crease and an unironed button down shirt with the top two buttons undone. Jojo had never seen the man before, not even in a picture, but he knew who the man was. His face looked like a doughier version of Jacob’s face, and he had Janel’s ears and James’ eyes. The man glanced at Jojo, but kept his gaze mostly fixed sheepishly on his own pudgy hands with their strangely clever looking fingers.
The man got up and left the room, and for a bit Jojo wondered if he would come back, but eventually he did with two steaming cups of coffee for himself and Jojo’s mother. A thousand questions pinged their way through Jojo’s mind, but he seemed to lack the energy to ask any of them. His stomach hurt, but nowhere near as badly as it had before. A nurse came in and fussed over him for a little while, and for the first time he noticed the three small sealed up incisions across his belly. The nurse gave him a pill which he dutifully swallowed, and the pain was pushed away again by a wave of complete contentment.
The man stayed in the room with Jojo and his mother for the rest of the day. Sometimes a nurse would come in and quietly ask a question, to which Jojo’s mother would shake her head. Jojo had a feeling that they wanted something from him, though he wasn’t entirely sure what. They brought him a little breakfast to eat, and after that his mother kept asking him if he had to pee. For his part the man mostly kept to himself in his chair, though one time when he caught Jojo staring he did flash a winning smile and raise his eyebrows before self-consciously looking away.
It was a strange and awkward day in the little room. The man left a few more times, once bringing back things from a vending machine, but mostly returning empty handed, reeking of cigarettes. Jojo’s mother mostly ignored the man, her focus entirely on her youngest son, her fussing broken only by furtive glances at the clock on the wall which were always followed by her asking him whether or not he had to pee. Jojo kept falling asleep and coming awake again. Once he woke to the sounds of his mother talking sharply to the man, but another time she was trying to stifle a laugh brought forth by something the man had said. The strangest moment was the time Jojo came awake to find the man alone in the room, standing over the bed and staring down at him, an uncertain look upon his face. Lunch came and went and then dinner, and it wasn’t until it had been dark outside for awhile that Jojo finally had to pee.
After that things moved in a rush. Jojo was given back his clothes and his mother signed a bunch of forms. The man talked quietly to Jojo’s mother for a bit. She seemed uncertain, but eventually nodded her head. The man then borrowed her phone and went out into the hallway and made a call. Jojo was taken out to the parking lot in a wheelchair, and then the man scooped Jojo up in his arms and carried him effortlessly to the old car. The man didn’t get in the car with them. Jojo’s mother didn’t say a word. She just got in and started driving.
Jojo did not know what to say. He felt as though he should say something, at least feel something, but his head was still swimming in the medicinal fog. He felt tired. His mother looked tired too. Had he dreamed the whole thing? Had the man never actually been there? The man had been there. Jojo’s mother did not drive out of the city. Instead she drove to a motel where the man was waiting. It was late, too late to drive home. Jojo’s mother muttered some thanks. The man took them up some stairs and opened up a door. Jojo had never been in a motel before. He tried to study his surroundings, but he was too tired and his stomach was beginning to hurt again. His mother gave him a pill and put him into one of the beds. She laid down next to him. The man went into the bathroom and changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. When he came out he turned off the lights and Jojo could hear the creaking of the springs as he climbed into the other bed. Jojo fell right to sleep.
Jojo awoke in the middle of the night. The comforting form of his mother was gone. The other bed was rhythmically squeaking. The man was making sounds. The same kinds of sounds Joshua made when he was doing pushups. His mother was making sounds too. Words were pouring out of her mouth as she gasped for air. It reminded Jojo of when she lost her temper at him or one of his siblings, but the worlds were a strange and horrifying litany that made no sense to him strung together as they were. She was pleading with the man, her tone the same as when she had spoken on the phone when they had first arrived at the hospital. She was trying to stay quiet, but her volume was rising in sync with her growing desperation for something that Jojo could not understand. It did not last for long. With a sudden groan from the man it all came to an end, and then there was nothing but the sounds of two people out of breath. The strange fog in Jojo’s brain condensed again, and he fell back into the land of nod.
The next morning Jojo’s mother suggested the man join them for breakfast. The man looked as though he would rather not, but he agreed to it all the same. The man seemed even more uncertain when Jojo’s mother suggested that Jojo ride to breakfast in the man’s car, but again he agreed. The man led Jojo to a big car, polished to a high sheen, though still an older model. The interior did not match the outside. The blue vinyl, which must have once been bright and new, was scuffed and cracked. The man cleared a pile of chip bags and fast food wrappers off of the passenger seat and threw them into the back where many of their fellows already resided. The car smelled like the interior of an old beer can.
The man said nothing as they drove. At first Jojo worried that his mother had given him away, but when he leaned forward he could see her car in side mirror. The man parked in front of a Denny’s and Jojo’s mother’s car pulled up in the spot next to it. They went inside together. Jojo and his mother had waffles, the man had just a cup of coffee. He fingered his cup and kept his eyes on the table, only occasionally looking furtively up at the two people across from him in the booth. When the meal was finished the check sat for a bit on the table, but the man eventually took it to the front and paid the bill. Jojo’s stomach was hurting again, so his mother gave him another pill. The man went to the bathroom and Jojo and his mother went to wait outside.
When the man came out of the Denny’s he seemed somewhat disappointed to see Jojo and his mother waiting by his car. He looked down at his feet and let out an exasperated sigh. Jojo’s mother stepped forward and said something quietly to him. The man nodded and mumbled something back. Jojo’s mother whispered something else. The man answered with a harsher than intended whisper that made her step back with a cranky look on her face. She stared at the man, her arms tightly crossed in front of her. The man stood quiet for a moment, looking annoyed and sheepish, but then let loose another exasperated sigh. With a sucked in breath he walked up to Jojo and held out a hand. Jojo obediently held out his own hand. The man gave it a few perfunctory shakes and then let go.
The two stood looking at each other, neither really sure what to do. Jojo was feeling tired again. He wished he could just curl up in the seat of the car and go to sleep. The man chewed the bottom of his lip for a second, then turned and got into his own car. He started the engine and put it in reverse. The car grumbled and rattled as it pulled out of the parking lot. Jojo’s mother came up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders, and together they watched the car disappear from view.