Finally Les was able to get back to drafting the specifications for Kip’s memorial. A stone bench and headstone with a sonnet by Shakespeare surrounded by a white picket fence was what he had in mind. He was looking forward to finding the mournful lines he’d recite to friends and strangers who would then ask what it meant and he would be able to tell them about his son and be the center of attention again.
He had been interrupted by, Phil, the neighbor on the corner. He had stopped by to return the borrowed spirit level and for some reason he lingered as if he wanted to ask for another tool, but didn’t want to impose and didn’t ask. When he was finally on his way he did bring up that he was thinking of building a barbecue with a granite counter top. Les reminded him about daylight savings time coming up and the difference between oval wire and panel pin nails. He didn’t bother to give Phil advice about building a barbecue. He thought it was a task over his neighbor’s head and he would probably end up consulting a professional anyway.
Les never liked Phil. He always referred to him as “eight-months-pregnant-by-beer” and he hated how his house looked shabby and unkempt, the perfect haunted house at Halloween that ruined neighborhood house values. Joyce always defended Phil by saying that he was that way because he was a bachelor and he was the most slender of the mechanics at the Bowdre Ford Dealership.
They had never been close to Phil, but after Kip died Joyce had decided that she wanted to help spruce up his place. She started with the shutters and it made such a difference she continued. It gave her something to do besides her part-time job at Elegant Gifts for Discerning Patrons. She told Les that Phil was a typical man motivated by food so on the weekends after the two of them finished their shopping at the home garden center they would get something to eat to reward their home improvement efforts. It made no difference to Les since Joyce would be home in the evenings and prepared his meals as usual.
It’s only been six months since Kip died and Les still thinks about him every day. Yesterday he restacked a cord of wood, one of Kip’s last chores left in his son's usual haphazard way, and finished it as tight as a Chinese box. When he stood back admiring his handy work he said out loud, “This is how to do it son.”
He still blames himself for Kip’s death even though he wasn’t there. It happened at the secret spring. Les had found it during his college days walking alone in the state park in an area that wasn’t very popular. A slim opening between tall rocks opened up to an inviting pool of warm water the size of a sedan. You could sit on the sides and put your feet into knee-deep water. Two steps into the pool and it would drop down to what seemed like a deep infinity. He had taken Joyce there and proposed marriage. He liked going there by himself and didn’t tell Kip about it until he was making his plans for college. When he did take Kip he told him to keep it a secret, a family secret.
He explained as clearly as he could to his disinterested son that the rocks were slippery with moss and if he waded in the pool to make sure that the water line was high enough to be able to float to the top to get out. He had learned this the hard way when he decided to swim when the water had receded. His outstretched arms were barely able to reach the top edge of the pool and he used all of his might to pull himself out. The force he felt pulling him back down into the water was stronger than a magnet.
To his dismay Kip had told his high school friends and after he had gotten over the initial shock of finding his son and others at his secret spot, and feeling like an insignificant old man, he made the best of it by discussing the origins of the well and its high temperature to his son’s friends. Slowly his small audience feigned boredom and concentrated on each other and soon he was talking alone to no one. He instantly loathed the spring and never went back.
He blames himself for not telling Kip not to jump headfirst from the rocks. A boy was walking back with the beers and saw Kip tumble casually into the pool. He didn’t do a “look at me” stance or an “I dare you to do this, too” declaration. He did something he didn’t think would be dangerous. Others had done it during the day, but they somehow always missed the mossy outcropping, the hard rock that Kip hit that he could have easily missed. Kip must have been under for at least two minutes when they even wondered where he was.
He was floating faced down and they jumped in. Kip’s forehead was bleeding and his eyes were closed, his body was lifeless.
And Les blamed Joyce, too. She always let Kip run wild. He did everything he could to teach his son all that he knew and instill a sense of structure so he could get ahead in life, but she always let him do whatever he wanted and look what happened.
Les could hear Joyce’s car drive into the carport expecting the front tires to heave over the rail tie, kiss the bumper to the wall and settle back down again, but this time, amazingly, she parked correctly and heard only her heels click on the pavement towards the back porch.
Les continued to concentrate on his sketch and didn’t look up when Joyce walked in and said, “Les, I can’t live with you anymore. I’m going to be with Phil. I don’t want your money, I’m just going to leave.”
Les looked up and pushed out a whispered puff of air, “What?”
“Les, you never gave our son a chance. You always corrected every little thing he did. Whatever he did you had to show him “a better way” and when you did that you were actually telling him he would always do it wrong and that he would never get it right. He never had a chance. You killed his spirit and he hated you for it. When he was a little boy he wanted to please you, but whatever he did you were never satisfied so he gave up. You killed his initiative and drive. And you do this with everyone and I can’t live like this any more. I love Phil and I’m sorry,” said Joyce.
Les couldn’t speak. He didn’t know what to say and he couldn’t form words with his mouth. It felt like water was rushing around him and he was a spinning top trying to stay afloat.
“I’ll take my things tomorrow and if you want anything back I’ll freely give it to you. I’m sorry, Lester.” Joyce averts her eyes and walks away.
The next day at the plant he showed the new guy an easy step to make his job quicker. The young man had been polite but soon Les noticed that he was able to develop a faster procedure and the new hire avoided Les whenever he saw him and stopped talking whenever he came near.
On his way home, driving by Phil’s house, he thought that he heard laughter, but he wasn’t certain.