David Fleming - The Saturday Boy

It hurt to hear him say it even though I’d sorta known it was true for a while now. I still had a fuzzy memory of the first time we met—Budgie peeking from under his mom’s skirt, afraid to come out and play. It wasn’t fair how so much could change so fast.

“Why not?” I asked before realizing I might not like the answer.

Budgie shrugged. He was fiddling with his fingers in his lap again and when he finally picked his head up he didn’t look me in the eye. He looked somewhere over my shoulder instead. Then he kinda glanced at my face before looking down into his lap again.

“I don’t know.”

“Did I do something?”

“No.”

“So you’re mean to me for no reason?”

“No!”

“Then why?”

Budgie lifted his head and looked me in the eye. He took a deep breath and let it out through his nose.

“Because you’re… people say you’re, y’know… weird.”

“What? No way! I’m not—why? Why would they say that?”

There was plenty more I could’ve said—like just because somebody says something doesn’t make it true or that thing about opinions being like buttholes because everyone had one and most of them stunk. I couldn’t get the words to line up right in my head though. I just stared at Budgie with my mouth open for a second before I started to feel like a fish and closed it. Me ? Weird ?

“I don’t know, I—look around you. Model airplanes? All your superhero dolls?”

“They’re action figures!”

“Dinoboy, then. I mean, how old are you?”

“ You like Dinoboy!”

“I liked Dinoboy,” said Budgie. “In third grade! We’re gonna be in middle school next year. Middle school. That’s huge!”

“So?”

“So you can’t keep playing with that stuff.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not freakin’ kids anymore!”

Budgie’s words were a slap in the face. Whoever made up that line about “sticks and stones” must have been lying. Or deaf. This time it was my turn to look away.

“So?”

“So if I hang around you I’m afraid people will think I’m weird, too.”

“That’s stupid!” I blurted out. “Who cares what people think?”

“I do.”

When the conversation started I’d felt bad for me but now I kinda felt bad for Budgie. I hadn’t thought about it before but maybe he was the way he was because otherwise he’d be one of the ones to get picked on. After all, he was what my dad once jokingly called a “target-rich environment.”

We sat on the bed. I didn’t look at Budgie. Budgie didn’t look at me. If I had a tick-tock clock in here you totally could have heard it. I didn’t though. My clock was digital. I looked at my hands. Fiddled with my Zeroman watch. Made it beep.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a Zeroman watch,” I said. “Santa brought it.”

“Cool. Can I see it?”

Me and Budgie played in my room until we heard his mom calling from the bottom of the stairs. Budgie took off the Zeroman watch and handed it to me, rolling his eyes back so far I bet he could see his brain. Then he put on his coat, went and got his phone and stuck it in his pocket.

“Are you doing anything for vacation?” I asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“Me neither. Maybe if it snows some more we could go sledding. Y’know, if nobody else is around.”

Budgie’s mom called out again and I couldn’t help picturing a cartoon hippo on the landing, bellowing up the stairs. I closed my mouth tight so I wouldn’t laugh. It was hard though. The hippo had a polka dotted bow and lipstick and everything.

“I gotta go,” Budgie said, zipping up his coat. “She sounds real mad.”

He went to the door then stopped and turned around and put out his hand. It took three tries but we finally remembered all the parts to our complicated secret handshake. When we were done, me and Budgie stood there just kinda looking at each other.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Yeah. Me too.”

THE SUN SHONE BRIGHTLYand in the cemetery snow was melting. Mom wore sunglasses but I don’t think it was because of the glare. At the church she’d gotten up in front of everyone and told stories about Dad until she started to cry and had to stop. She hadn’t said anything since. Instead she held on to Dad’s wallet with both hands in her lap, sitting up as straight as I’d ever seen her sit. She appeared to be looking at the minister but I couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or closed. I wished I could close mine or look away or something but no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t seem to take them off the hole in the ground.

Mom, Aunt Josie, and I sat in folding chairs near the edge of the grave along with Nanny, Pappy, and Gammy Jess. Everyone else kinda stood behind us. Budgie and his mom and dad were among them as well as some of Dad’s cousins we hadn’t seen for a long time. I also recognized some of Mom’s friends and a couple of people she worked with at the hospital. Six of my dad’s army friends in their dress uniforms carried the casket, taking careful steps in the snow so they wouldn’t slip as they brought it over from the hearse.

Once the casket was in place the minister raised a hand above his head and whatever talking there had been came to a stop. Sunlight flashed off his glasses. Mom took my hand and held it tight. In her other hand she still held my dad’s wallet.

“In the midst of life we are in death…” the minister began.

Mom’s hand twitched. Her grip on my hand tightened. I wondered what she was thinking about—was she remembering Dad and the good times they’d had together or was she thinking about the new life she was now forced to begin without him? I didn’t want to think about either of them, personally. If I did I’d probably start to cry and I got the feeling Mom needed me to be strong right now—which would’ve been a lot easier if I couldn’t see my Dad’s coffin being lowered into the ground.

“…suffer us not, at our last hour, for any pains of death, to fall from thee.”

The minister picked up a handful of dirt and as he tossed it in the hole I finally found the strength to close my eyes.

“In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life…”

Darkness. The scrape of shovels.

“…we commend to Almighty God our brother Jason and we commit his body to the ground…”

Sobbing behind me. Mom’s grip tightening on my hand.

“…lift up his countenance upon him and give him peace…”

The minister paused. For some reason I held my breath. I don’t know why.

“… Amen .”

Me, Mom and Aunt Josie were the last ones to leave the cemetery because just about everyone stopped and said how sorry they were again and what a great guy they thought my dad was. Even though I liked hearing it I’d really had enough for one day. So had Mom. I could tell.

I looked through the back window of the car as Aunt Josie drove slowly through the gates to the main road and could see a mini loader chugging up the small hill toward my dad’s gravesite. There was only one reason for it to be heading that way and I didn’t want to think about it. I turned back around and faced the front. Neither Mom nor Aunt Josie were saying anything and I wasn’t saying anything either. It had been silent in the car for so long that when Aunt Josie finally cleared her throat it was like a gunshot.

“That was a nice service, wasn’t it?” she said.