Read Online Eureka Man: A Novel by Patrick Middleton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Patrick Middleton
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looked vaguely familiar
standing there smiling awkwardly at him. With him were two children
and a woman who were also staring and smiling as if they all knew
something he didn't. And they did.
Surprised you, didn't we? That's what the
woman said. As if it were something pleasant. Good to see you, son,
the man said. Meet your new family. This is my wife Isabella. This
is your brother, Dickie. Dickie's twelve. And this is Lottie. She's
thirteen. Fourteen, Dad! I'm fourteen, the nubile girl told
him.
Speechless, Oliver shook hands with each of
them and did his best to smile. He took a seat beside Ernie Boy the
First, whose nervous apprehension showed each time he blinked and
forced a smile.
While they took turns describing their
hour-long trip from Youngstown to Pittsburgh, Oliver studied Ernie
Boy's face until he found the lie he was looking for. It had been
sixteen years since this man had skipped town on his family like a
fugitive. Oliver was only five years old and Skip was six the day
they had stood on the side of 301 Highway waving to their father as
he drove away in his new red Ford. See you boys soon. Those had
been his last words. Every day for six weeks, Oliver had looked out
the front window of their apartment hoping to see Ernie Boy's car
pull up into the parking lot. Each time he saw a new red Ford
Fairlane coming up the highway, he thought it was his father. Six
week went by and when his father still hadn't returned, his mother
told him to forget about him. “He's gone, Oliver, and he's not
coming back. Just forget about him.” Every night before they went
to bed, he and Skip knelt at the windowsill and watched the
tractor-trailers scream through the intersection of 301 Highway and
Hawthorne Drive. One night they saw a sixteen-wheeler slice a new
red Ford Fairlane in half in the middle of the intersection. The
boys put on their sneakers and ran to the scene in their pajamas.
Skip stopped at the edge of the highway while Oliver darted around
the debris and the men who had come from Mr. Mack's Texaco station
to help. He had never seen so much blood. The dead man was lying in
front of the car and he was wearing burgundy wingtip shoes. The
same kind their father had been wearing when they last saw him.
Oliver maneuvered close enough to see that the man's eyes were wide
open and were as blue as his father's eyes; his hair was parted on
the left side, too, just the way their father parted his, and there
was a diamond ring on his left pinkie.
What if it was him? What if God had worked
that traffic light to send their father to hell for playing such a
bad joke on them? Oliver started to cry. He yelled for Skip. That
ain't him, Oliver. But the car's red and he's wearing the same
shoes and the diamond ring and… That ain't him, now come on. Oliver
wanted to go back and look at the man one more time, but Skip said
no. Tears streamed down his face as he watched the ambulance driver
pull the white sheet over the man's face. It's him! I know it's
him! It is not, Oliver. But this was one time Oliver refused to
believe his brother and he was glad his father was gone and he
didn't have to wonder about him anymore.
Now he searched the harsh lines on both sides
of Ernie Boy's lying mouth-smile lines, but frown lines too and
crow's feet at the corner of his lying baby blue eyes. His hair,
totally gray, was thick and curly, and he had the great Priddy
teeth. He wore a tan suit and a white shirt, with an ice blue tie
and high-shine brown Oxfords. Oliver was no more glad to see him
than Ernie Boy was to be there. But they talked. They talked and
the family went on as if they had just seen Oliver last week and
the week before. The kids were beautiful and gracious. Lottie told
him at the Coca-Cola machine how she had waited all these years to
meet her big brother and how handsome he was. Dickie didn't say
much. When it was time for them to leave, they promised to return
soon and often.
Oliver went to bed that night using
standing there smiling awkwardly at him. With him were two children
and a woman who were also staring and smiling as if they all knew
something he didn't. And they did.
Surprised you, didn't we? That's what the
woman said. As if it were something pleasant. Good to see you, son,
the man said. Meet your new family. This is my wife Isabella. This
is your brother, Dickie. Dickie's twelve. And this is Lottie. She's
thirteen. Fourteen, Dad! I'm fourteen, the nubile girl told
him.
Speechless, Oliver shook hands with each of
them and did his best to smile. He took a seat beside Ernie Boy the
First, whose nervous apprehension showed each time he blinked and
forced a smile.
While they took turns describing their
hour-long trip from Youngstown to Pittsburgh, Oliver studied Ernie
Boy's face until he found the lie he was looking for. It had been
sixteen years since this man had skipped town on his family like a
fugitive. Oliver was only five years old and Skip was six the day
they had stood on the side of 301 Highway waving to their father as
he drove away in his new red Ford. See you boys soon. Those had
been his last words. Every day for six weeks, Oliver had looked out
the front window of their apartment hoping to see Ernie Boy's car
pull up into the parking lot. Each time he saw a new red Ford
Fairlane coming up the highway, he thought it was his father. Six
week went by and when his father still hadn't returned, his mother
told him to forget about him. “He's gone, Oliver, and he's not
coming back. Just forget about him.” Every night before they went
to bed, he and Skip knelt at the windowsill and watched the
tractor-trailers scream through the intersection of 301 Highway and
Hawthorne Drive. One night they saw a sixteen-wheeler slice a new
red Ford Fairlane in half in the middle of the intersection. The
boys put on their sneakers and ran to the scene in their pajamas.
Skip stopped at the edge of the highway while Oliver darted around
the debris and the men who had come from Mr. Mack's Texaco station
to help. He had never seen so much blood. The dead man was lying in
front of the car and he was wearing burgundy wingtip shoes. The
same kind their father had been wearing when they last saw him.
Oliver maneuvered close enough to see that the man's eyes were wide
open and were as blue as his father's eyes; his hair was parted on
the left side, too, just the way their father parted his, and there
was a diamond ring on his left pinkie.
What if it was him? What if God had worked
that traffic light to send their father to hell for playing such a
bad joke on them? Oliver started to cry. He yelled for Skip. That
ain't him, Oliver. But the car's red and he's wearing the same
shoes and the diamond ring and… That ain't him, now come on. Oliver
wanted to go back and look at the man one more time, but Skip said
no. Tears streamed down his face as he watched the ambulance driver
pull the white sheet over the man's face. It's him! I know it's
him! It is not, Oliver. But this was one time Oliver refused to
believe his brother and he was glad his father was gone and he
didn't have to wonder about him anymore.
Now he searched the harsh lines on both sides
of Ernie Boy's lying mouth-smile lines, but frown lines too and
crow's feet at the corner of his lying baby blue eyes. His hair,
totally gray, was thick and curly, and he had the great Priddy
teeth. He wore a tan suit and a white shirt, with an ice blue tie
and high-shine brown Oxfords. Oliver was no more glad to see him
than Ernie Boy was to be there. But they talked. They talked and
the family went on as if they had just seen Oliver last week and
the week before. The kids were beautiful and gracious. Lottie told
him at the Coca-Cola machine how she had waited all these years to
meet her big brother and how handsome he was. Dickie didn't say
much. When it was time for them to leave, they promised to return
soon and often.
Oliver went to bed that night using
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