Week 32 - Substitute

Substitute

Matthew Ryan Fischer

“Tell your Uncle thanks.”

“Thanks…” mumbled the boy. “Thank you,” answered the girl. They didn’t look happy, but they had to pretend to be. Their mother had raised them to do at least that. They were dutiful if nothing else. It made Andre smile. He could see the disappointment on their faces. Kids were always transparent, even when they thought they were fooling you or getting away with it. The girl had at least tried to feign interest and excitement. It was cute. It was endearing. The boy was always sullen and shy. It was harder with him. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t his fault, but it was always easier to love his niece. Andre tried to remember that as best he could.

“Why don’t you go play with your new toys,” suggested Camilla. “Let me talk to Uncle Andre.”

Emily and Daniel nodded. They took their “new” toys and went outside to play. They left the wrapping paper where it was, some on the kitchen table, some on the floor.

They were unhappy with the toys that Andre had brought. He knew it, they knew it, and their mother knew it. The toys were cheap. They were knockoffs. Being poor sucked. People could always tell when you were poor, but it always felt worse when you had to give poor-people presents. Poor-people presents were hardly presents at all. They were an obvious reminder that the gift giver was poor and couldn’t afford a real present. They were a shameful admittance of guilt. Everyone could see it and everyone had to pretend they didn’t. There were always sad and disappointed looks from the kids. And pity from the parents. That part was the worst. The kids made you feel shitty for a minute, but the parents wouldn’t let you forget it. You got mumbled thanks and insincere smiles or hugs. A lot of the time they would ask “what is it?” or simply say “oh... thanks…” and then you’d get blank faces as they tried to hide their real thoughts. The toys would end up sort of being like something they’d heard of, but not the real things. Toy cars that could turn into other things, but they definitely weren’t the right ones from that summer movie they just saw. There were blond dolls, but the name wasn’t right.  There were generic play sets and generic action figures. The building blocks weren’t from that theme park they wanted to visit. All the boxes had smiling kids on them, but only disappointed faces in real life when the wrapping paper was torn off.

The kids were poor. Andre was poor. Their toys were going to end up being poor-person toys. Too bad for them. Nothing Andre could do about it except feel bad with wishes and regrets which wouldn’t change a thing.

Andre crossed the kitchen and opened the refrigerator to grab a beer. He didn’t even think about asking. He had been in this house so many times and performed the same action. It was just so common. He hadn’t realized how much this house felt like his home.

There were crayon drawings hung up on the refrigerator door – budding artists the kids were not, but it didn’t matter. Andre loved it. It made it feel like a family lived there.

He took a pull on his beer and closed the refrigerator door. Camilla didn’t look happy. She seldom did anymore.

“So you make up your mind yet? You’re selling the house?”

“I have to,” she replied.

“Kids love it here. They got their own room. The back yard.”

It wasn’t much of a back yard. Just enough space for a tree and a barbeque grill and a few toys to spread out on the ground.

“Yeah well, what are you gonna do? They’ll get used to it.”

“You know where you’re going yet?”

“Some apartment somewhere.”

Andre took another drink of the beer. He didn’t have any real solutions to offer. He knew he didn’t. She knew it too. Still, it he wished he did. It made him sad that he didn’t.

“You okay for money? Other than the house, I mean. I could help you out a little, you know.”

“Yeah, right. What could you do?”

“I don’t know. I could do something.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t have to...”

“I got money. I’m working shifts back at that diner again. I got money.”

“I didn’t mean anything—”

“Andre!”

He shut up. He knew he should have shut up a minute earlier. It was stupid of him. He couldn’t make her problems go away. He knew that. He certainly didn’t have the money to fix what needed fixing. But he wanted to help. They were his family. He couldn’t do much, but he wanted to do something. He should have kept his mouth shut.

Andre walked over to the patio door and looked out at his niece and nephew.

“What are you doing?”

“Daydreaming, I guess.”

“Yeah, well, stop it. It doesn’t do me any good.”

“I know... Look at them out there. They’re just kids. They have no idea.”

“They know plenty. Too much already.”

“They shouldn’t have to. I feel... I feel...” He trailed off for a moment, lost in his loss. He took another drink of the beer.

“What if she was mine?”

“She’s not yours.”

“I know... but—”

“I’m telling you –”

 “What if she was?”

“Goddamn it. Don’t give me that shit. Those are your brother’s kids. Kids. As in one, two. Two. Not yours. Not yours.”

“Michael’s gone.”

“Fuck you, I know that.”

“He’s gone... And—”

“That doesn’t mean I suddenly get wet for you.”

“Don’t be a bitch. That’s my niece and nephew. I still care about them.”

“Why don’t you get a real goddamn toy next time?”

Andre stood there, silent, letting the bite wash away for a moment. He bit his lip and swallowed what he had to say. After a breath he drank the last of his beer and set the bottle on the countertop.

Andre leaned in and kissed Camilla on the cheek.

“I’m gonna go say goodbye to them.”

He turned to the door.

“Andre...”

She didn’t finish. She didn’t really know what to say.

“I got a shift. I got to go.”

“Maybe you could come by sometime soon. Without Michael here... They miss him, but they miss you too. They do.”

“Maybe I’ll stop by.”

“How about this weekend?”

“Maybe this weekend.”