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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Family
- Published: 11/29/2021
Father-Son Bonding
Born 1944, F, from Melbourne, FL, United States.jpeg)
Father-Son Bonding
by
Valerie Allen
“Hello? Hello? Mr. Benson?” Zelda called out and jabbed the button on the doorbell three more times. She heard the chimes echoing inside the house and pressed her right eye against the peep-hole in the front door but didn't see any movement. She set her bucket of cleaning supplies on the porch and leaned her sponge mop against the door jam. She pulled open the screen door and pounded her fist on the wooden door, which made the stained-glass insert rattle. She leaned her ear against the door but heard nothing. She waited and then side-stepped off the porch into a small, weed-filled garden area in front of a set of double windows. She cupped her hands over her eyes and peeked between the blinds. She saw a man slumped on a couch, head lolled to one side, hands folded across his thin frame. She banged on the window glass several times and watched as he began to stir. “Mr. Benson?” she shouted. “Mr. Benson!”
His eyes sprung open and his head jerked up. He looked from side to side and then edged forward on the couch. He rubbed his fists into his eyes and then rapidly shook his head several times.
Zelda tapped gently on the windowpane and waved. “It's me, Mr. Benson. It's Zelda. I'm here to do the house cleaning.”
He frowned and squinted his eyes. Deep furrows formed across his forehead. He eased himself up and shuffled toward the front door. “I'm coming! I'm coming. Just hold your horses.” He reached the door, slipped the small chain lock, unbolted the deadbolt, and opened the door a few inches. He looked unknowingly at the figure who stood before him. “Who're you?” he asked.
Zelda smiled patiently. “Who am I? I'm Zelda. How could you forget me so soon?”
“I don't know anyone named Zelda.” He pushed the door forward and narrowed the gap between them.
“Yes, you do know me. We met yesterday while you were out on your walk. Remember?”
He jerked his chin up. “No, I don't remember any such thing. What's your name again?”
She raised her voice and moved her face slightly closer to the door frame. “I'm Zelda, Mr. Benson, and I'm here to clean your house.”
He rested his hand on the door and slowly began to push it closed. “Go away. Leave me alone! I don't need my house cleaned. It's fine just the way it is.”
Zelda drew back and crossed her arms high on her chest. “Okay, Mr. Benson, I'll leave if that's what you want, but you're not getting your money back. You paid in advance to have me clean your house and it's not my fault you changed your mind.” She lifted her chin and sniffed. “I can't afford to give any refunds.”
He open the door a bit, saw her cleaning supplies, and tilted his head to one side. “I paid you already?”
“Yes, in cash! I don't come out to someone's house to clean unless it's pre-paid, for this very reason.” She moved closer to him and raised her eyebrows. “You know, 'cause some folks forget about paying me.” She made quote marks in the air.
“I don't remember giving you any money to clean my house, but if I did you better pay me back 'cause I don't need my house cleaned and I don't want you here.”
She waited quietly, then took a deep breath, and lowered her voice. “You know, Mr. Benson, I've got kids to feed. I had to put gas in my car to come here. I gave up a good-paying job with one of your neighbors this morning to come here and clean your house. I'm sorry you don't want me here but I need this job.”
He drew back and straightened his shoulders. “You say your name is Zelda?” He stared into her eyes. “You know, I think I do remember meeting you yesterday. I think it was when I was out for my walk.”
Her eyes widened. “Listen, I'm already here to clean your house and you've already paid me to do it, so why don't you just let me in so I can get to work? I won't ever come back if you don't want me to.”
He rubbed his fingers across his lips and circled them around onto his chin. “Well, I guess this one time will be okay but after this don't you ever take my money again.”
She glared at him. “I didn't take your money! You gave it to me. If I wanted to steal your money, would I bother to show up here today? I would have taken your money and ran off with it.”
He worked his lips from side to side and tugged at the tip of his nose with his thumb and index finger. “Hmm, you have a point there.” He eased open the door and stepped back into the living room. “I'll tell you one thing,” he shook his finger in the air. “I'm not taking my eyes off of you for one minute! You're not going to roam around my house looking for things to steal. I know your tricks! I'm sticking to you like glue.”
Zelda rolled her eyes, grabbed the mop, and snatched her bucket of cleaning supplies from the porch. “You know, if I wasn't such a nice person, I'd be insulted by your remarks.” She pushed past him and headed toward the kitchen.
He trotted after her and watched her every move.
She surveyed the area. “Whew, I can see why you needed me to clean this place.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pair of thin rubber cleaning gloves. She looked at the food encrusted dishes stacked in the double sink. Pots half full with scum-like liquid sat on each of the four burners on the stove. Greasy patches crossed the countertops every few inches. Smudges from handprints circled the knobs on each of the cabinets. Dishcloths, reeking of mildew, were wadded up on the tabletop. Soiled towels hung on the backs of kitchen chairs. “It smells like something died in here—a long time ago!” Zelda said.
“It does?” he asked. His eyes grew wide. “I live alone except for my cat but I haven't seen him in a while.” He looked around the kitchen and the color drained from his face. “You don't think something happened to him do you?” His voice was shaky.
Zelda sighed and spoke gently. “Oh, I don't think so. Likely that kitty is out exploring somewhere.”
“Exploring? I love that little guy. Why would he want to go out exploring?” the man asked bewildered.
Zelda's shoes made crackling sounds as she walked across the sticky tile floor toward the refrigerator. Inside, she found Styrofoam containers with green mold covering the contents. “Have you eaten today, Mr. Benson?”
“Today? I don't think so. I'm waiting for those nice folks who show up once in a while and bring me eggs and toast. They have hot coffee, too.” He smiled, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply.
“Are they your neighbors?”
“Not sure who they are but I think they're with some church group. They look around my place and say things like, 'Oh, my God,' and 'Lord help us all,' and things like that.” He rubbed his hand across his sunken belly. “Sometimes they leave a sandwich and tell me it's for tomorrow, but it looks so good I eat it right then.” He laughed. “Who knows if I'll still be here tomorrow? I don't want a good sandwich to go to waste.”
Zelda smiled. “Oh, we wouldn't want that to happen.” She turned to him. “Don't you have family to help you out?”
He frowned, a furrow forming across his brow. “I told you I don't need any help!”
Her eyes widened and she glanced around the room. “Hmm, I'm thinking you do need some help. Look at this place. It's way beyond a mess in here; it's a safety hazard. You sure you don't have anyone to give you a hand?”
He lifted his chin. “I have a son. He's always coming here causing me some kinda trouble or another.”
She placed both hands on her broom and leaned toward him. “What kind of trouble?”
“He tried to steal my car. He said I shouldn't be driving. He hid my car keys but I found them and when he came back I hid them from him. After he left my car wouldn't start.” He squinted his eyes and slowly nodded his head. “I think he messed with it somehow.”
“Well, that's not good. Maybe he was worried you'd get into an accident or something.”
“Oh sure, that's what he says but I know better. He wants to sell my car and keep the money. He's always asking me about going to the doctor. He hopes I'll get sick and kick-off so he can have my house, my car, and my money.”
She shook her head. “Sad your son would treat you like that.”
His eyes glistened. “He was always such a good kid. I taught him how to play chess when he was just a little guy. He was so good he won a trophy in high school.” He drew his fingers along his jawline. “We used to go to baseball games together, even when he grew up we'd take a weekend and travel to the regional playoffs.” His face clouded over and he stared out the kitchen window before looking back at her. “I'm not sure why he's turned against me.”
She spoke in a gentle voice. “I'm not so sure he's turned against you, Mr. Benson.”
He jerked his head up. “Well, I'm sure! I called the cops the last time he showed up and I'll do it again if he ever comes back.”
Zelda started the laundry and after three hours cleaning the kitchen, she vacuumed the rooms that had carpeting. She put on a face mask, turned on the fan, and opened the window while she cleaned the bathroom. “You know Mr. Benson, you need to do a better job and watch your aim in here.”
He looked puzzled. “I do the best I can. I need new eyeglasses, that's the whole problem.”
“Really?” Zelda asked. “You think new eyeglasses will fix this?” she pointed to the toilet.
“I sure do,” he said.
She stepped out into the hallway. “Speaking of your eyeglasses, where are they?” she asked.
“Not sure. They're around here someplace.” He went to a table in the living room and sifted through two piles of unopened mail and moved a stack of papers to one side.
Zelda shook her head. “You know, there could be some important documents in all that stuff. Maybe you need to take a look through it just in case.”
“Can't do that without my eyeglasses. I told you if I had my eyeglasses things would be a lot better around here.”
She looked at him. “Yes, you did indeed tell me that and I think you're right. Eyeglasses would help, so how are you going to solve the 'missing eyeglasses' problem?” she asked.
He became alert and a look of clarity crossed his face. “Now that is what I call a 'circular problem'.” He looked her in the eyes. “I need my eyeglasses to find my eyeglasses.”
* * *
“Hello, Mr. Benson? This is Zelda.”
“Yes, hello Zelda. Were you able to make any progress with my dad?”
“Absolutely. I spent the entire day with him.”
“The whole day?”
“Indeed I did.”
“That's amazing. I can't even get him to answer his phone. When I go to see him he won't open the door and I'm his son! He threatens to call the police.”
She let out a deep breath. “He can be stubborn, that's for sure, but I think he's confused.”
“I can't thank you enough for helping me out. My dad's a good guy, but it's so hard to help him with anything. We were always close and now I worry every day the phone will ring with some bad news. How is he doing?”
“He's holding up, but he definitely needs more support than he's getting.”
He cleared his throat. “Just tell me what he needs and I'll get right on it. I love my dad and I don't want anything to happen to him. He's always been my hero.”
“I suggest you start with new eyeglasses. I also think he may be depressed. He likely needs to have a checkup with his doctor.”
“What makes you think he's depressed?”
“I think it has something to do with the kitty litter. It hasn't been used in a very long time.”
“It was my mom's cat and since she died, the cat has become Dad's connection with her. That cat means the world to him.”
“Well, not to be pessimistic, but if you can't find his cat, you may have to get him another one.”
“No problem, I can get him another cat.”
“Not just any cat, Mr. Benson. You need to get him a cat that looks exactly like the one he had,” Zelda said.
“Hmm, I understand.,” he said. “What else can I do to help him?”
“Just keep being a good son. Keep being the loving boy whom he remembers.” Zelda said quietly.
“I still can't figure out how in the world you were able to go into his house and spend all that time with him.”
“Well, Mr. Benson, I've been a social worker for a long time. I've got a few tricks up my sleeve.”
# # #
Thank you for taking the time to read
Father-Son Bonding
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About the Author
Valerie Allen, psychologist and author, writes fiction, nonfiction, short stories, and children's books. Her articles about mental health and parenting have been published nationwide. She has taught students in elementary school through those in post-graduate studies at various colleges and universities.
She lives in warm and sunny Florida where she enjoys fun with family and friends. She's all about good health and fitness activities. Also to her credit, she has learned many things about life and love while raising her six children!
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Father-Son Bonding
by
Valerie Allen
Copyright by Valerie Allen 2021
All rights reserved
For More Information, please contact:
Valerie Allen
[email protected]
ValerieAllenWriter.com
Amazon.com/author/valerieallen
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events, is entirely coincidental.
Printed in the United States of America. All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author.
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Short Stories
by
Valerie Allen
A Good Thing on a Bad Day
A License to Practice
A Marriage of Convenience
A Mother's Love
A Tooth for a Tooth
A True Miracle
Ad Hoc Committee
Best Wishes
Brotherly Love
Conditional Love
Doggie Tales
Father's Day
Father-Son Bonding
Fire Engine Red
Fireworks on the 4th
First Love
Fit for Life
Future Plans
Holiday Traditions
Home for the Holidays
I Remember Momma
Just Be Cos
Ladies in Waiting
Leisureville
Love is in the Air
Match-maker
Mother Knows Best
Potty Talk
Puppy Love
No Goin' Home
Queen for a Day
Second Chance
Small Steps
Split Second Timing
Thank You! Mr. Jackson
The Garden of Love
The Lonely Life of Amanda Miller
The Penalty Box
Valentine's Day
Visiting Day
Words of Wisdom
~ ~ ~
Amazon.com/author/valerieallen
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