Changing Faces

His mind was still racing after he had hung up on Victoria. Their chance to have a child all of their own, and he ruined it in less than a second. After a few swings of whiskey, he started to calm down. The smoke, dancing up towards the sky helped his mind peer into futures he had never seen before. A future with a jaunty juvenile, with his bulbous adam’s apple and gastly nose and her crinkled hair; another future came to light mixing his sparkled freckles and her long luxurious curls. This spectre morphing from one combination to the next until his head spun and gaze into different dimensions opening up in his living room.

He saw him and his little angel playing in Victoria and Angela’s backyard on the weekends, switching between adventures in the jungle to the little tot sitting in a make-shift throne with him as a loyal jester. As the child grew, he knew how smart they would become as their fascination with the world around them exponentially overpowered his wanting to take a nap in the afternoons. Often the explorer would be staring at the trunk of the tree and wondering how it could ever once have been a seedling or following a daddy-long-leg home to see if their lives were any different from that of a human.

Years pass in this illusion and his heir or heiress is getting married, finding a home of their own, and adopting a puppy. A golden retriever who, despite its adorably dopey method of walking, still makes him roll his eyes at their name for it: Guster.

Soon his offspring became a parent of their own and he imagined Victoria, Angela, and him comforting them through the entire ten months. Ensuring that despite the anguish and emotional toll, there is no drug, prescription or otherwise, that could give them the high they will feel from holding their child in their arms. Having the responsibility for the squishy little bean was daunting yet they will put their own creativity to the part and that grandchild will be all the better for it.

He couldn’t help gazing into his last days on earth with his little one and smiled as, despite his old age, they still insisted on played “Retirement Railroad”. Racing down the halls of the retirement home at full tilt, hoping on the back of his wheelchair, with their child chasing after them squealing at everytime they almost barrel into a nurse or another resident. All three generations bellow out with laughter and earn more glares for their scoreboard. So far, he is winning with his grandchild in place for second.

Through all this time, all he could picture was love. Love in the giggles, in the family dinners, and even in the countless dirty knapsacks crowding his lion’s den. What a fool he should be if he would let such a dream pass him by. He is finally being brought into the light of the stage and pushed to the front; beginning the greatest act of his life. And just as he could feel the heat beaming down from the stage lights, regret seeped over him and his reality was rearing it ugly head. He had already burnt down the stage when he yelled at Victoria; she had been the one person wanting this from him and he shoved her away like rotten cabbage.

His drunken fingers dialed as fast as they could but the numbers seemed to be shifting from key to key. Perhaps the universe was giving him a sign to forget the idea of Fatherhood. He wasn’t ready to be in another’s life; he was barely an active player in his own.

Paris poured into his mind.He looked around and saw all the different names: Antoit; Sophia Lopez; Zaharia and Alice Lobel. He thought of their faces: whether or not they were beautiful or ugly; which one had blue, brown, or a mixed array of colors in their eyes; how many freckles they had even. It struck him strange that he had found that place off of a website for tourists bored on a Sunday afternoon. These once living people with families, lovers, and even the stray cat they would feed from time to time were reduced to just names and imaginatively placed stones. He thought of his name etched in stone and shuddered. Had he not promised Victoria to lay beside her for all eternity? Such a promise he regrets as he looks at these petrified people. In turn, it was Victoria who had stood up, brushed off the dust, and climbed free before the casket closed, leaving him trapped under the dry wood and cold earth. He wondered if the Zobels had both gladly signed up to be an attraction or if one had to pull the other in like a spirit being dragged to hell. He wouldn't want his name in stone; such a name should never be written down with having nothing to mean behind it. The Zobels had probably dedicated their lives to helping the living and to giving back to their precious world; only those such people deserve headstones and he certainly knew he wasn't one of them. No, he thought he should be burnt up on logs and left to scatter in the wind. His physical departure from this world must be the same as he had lived within: grandiose and heated yet,at the end, nothing to point at and say it was his own.

Who had buried all of these souls? He furrowed his brow with no answer but their children and grandchildren punched him in the stomach for the final blow. A fist he deserved for the anguish he caused Victoria. In all their time together, she had been his support when his eyes would go blank, sometimes for hours on end; needing her to balance his body up the stairs, down the hall, and to their bed. How lonely she must have felt. Her husband was alright half-dead when he was right beside her in their happy world. Could she have left and found peace sooner? Have I robbed her of that? His tongue tasted tears.