“Well, that’s just great,” said Dave, gazing at his shoe---more precisely, at the dairy by-product passing for ice cream now covering his shoe.
Not that he hated ice cream: as a boy, it was probably his favorite dessert. Every Sunday, his grandfather took him to the corner dairy for a treat slathered in as many toppings as he could fit into a bowl, and Dave still smiled fondly at the memory of ordering two full banana splits once, when his parents raised his allowance. And he’d have finished the second one if he hadn’t vomited all over Penneman’s Store. It took two years before Old Man Penneman let Dave back into the place, and the shopkeeper had viewed the young troublemaker with suspicion ever since.
“I’m so sorry!” exclaimed a pretty young blonde running toward Dave.
“That’s all right,” Dave lied. “I never liked those shoes anyway.”
“I don’t know why that place heaps such big scoops onto such small cones,” the young mother said, leading her crying young son inside, hoping to assuage his grief with more ice cream.
“I know perfectly well why they do that,” muttered Dave, trying to clean his shoe.
From the bench outside the ice cream parlor, Dave had a great view of the parking lot. As usual he’d rather have this rendezvous someplace else: the library, perhaps. Maybe the park. The benches at the park were just as uncomfortable, but the trees and river were prettier to look at than the concrete and traffic signs visible from the strip mall.
Looking up, past the branches of the shedding trees, Dave saw gray clouds gathering overhead. Recently most of his days were gray, even those he got to spend with his son. If the weather reports were right, the whole weekend would see nothing but rain. Not the way he wanted it, but then the weather had ruined his last two visits. Today he’d wanted to take the boy on a drive to see the dinosaur exhibit at the Zoo. A drive through the rain wasn’t exactly his idea of an adventure, though; and the boy would probably rather stay home to watch cartoons, anyway.
“Daddy!”
Dave looked to see the beaming face of his son running toward him. Leaping, Charlie flung himself onto his father’s lap, nearly knocking the wind out of Dave. The two were soon tussling and wrestling.
“Hello, David.”
Dave began tickling his son, smiling as the boy laughed and wiggled.
“Hello, Sarah. You’re late.”
“I’m sorry,” replied Sarah, her eyes melting at the sight of the father and son wrestling on the bench. “We had a flat on the way here, and Frank had a few problems with the lug nuts. We ended up having to call a tow truck.”
It figured, Dave smiled bitterly. Frank was great at being bossed around and saying “Yes, dear” to any woman within groveling distance. But the fool was useless when it came to doing anything productive. Even as an architect, the idiot seemed determined to prove himself a waste of Y chromosomes, preferring to work on art museums and government buildings rather than something useful, like a sports stadium.
“So where is he? I don’t suppose you left him by the side of the road.”
Stepping under the awning of the ice cream shop, Sarah took the seat beside her ex-husband. The misting rain had grown to a drizzle, and the darkening clouds promised more of the same.
“You make him nervous,” Sarah said gently. “You always insult him, so he’s in a foul mood for the rest of the day. He decided to wait in the car, so you couldn’t make fun of him again.”
Dave smiled bitterly: it was nice to know that he wasn’t a failure at everything. He tickled his son again, laughing as the boy screamed with delight.
“You really shouldn’t get him so wound up,” said Sarah. “He’s wound up enough already.”
“We’re having fun.”
“And I was thinking,” Sarah continued, looking down at the sidewalk. “You’ve had bad luck this month, as far as doing anything with Charles was concerned. Why don’t you take him on the next nice weekend we have? We can always readjust our schedule to even things out later.”
“My, aren’t you being noble, now.”
“David…”
“We’ll manage,” Dave said sharply.
“Well…think about it.”
“We’ll manage just fine.”
“Give Mommy a hug?” Sarah sighed, and rose to go. Charlie threw himself into his mother’s arms and squeezed as hard as he could. Sarah closed her eyes, and kissed the boy on the forehead.
“You have fun with Daddy,” she smiled. “I’ll see you Monday, right after school.”
Watching Sarah dodge the puddles on the way back to her car, Dave took a deep breath. The autumn rain was falling steadily, looking to be with them for the next few days. Tussling the mop of hair on his son’s head, Dave thought that in many way, he was the spitting image of his mother, with the same soft eyes and sweet smile.
“Okay, Squirt---what do you want?”
“Ice cream!”
“I think it’s time for lunch. Let’s get some bunny food over at the Supermart---and have some nice carrots for dessert.”
“No! A hot dog, just like always!”
“I heard they were only going to serve cold dogs from now on, so they wouldn’t need a stove.”
“Daddy!”
“Let’s go check.”
Opening the door to the ice cream shop, Dave let his son race ahead of him. The hot dogs were actually good here. Too bad the ice cream was so pitiful. But it was Charlie’s favorite. And it was the place Sarah and he had always stopped for lunch every Saturday, after taking the boy for a walk in the park.
Besides, Dave thought, he’d only gotten ice cream on one shoe today. The way his life was going, he’d need a matched set before the day was over.