WATCHING BRAD
Part 157
I awoke that Friday morning to very familiar knuckles rapping on my chest and a very familiar voice speaking into my right ear. "Daddy, wake up."
My eyes cracked open and a second very familiar voice spoke into my left ear. "We have to pee."
I tilted my head one way, then the other, smiled at my sons as I did so, then told them, "Well, go pee, then."
"We can't," said the voice from the right.
"You won't let us," added the voice from the left.
To demonstrate, Jeremy tried to wriggle out of the grasp of my left arm and failed. I was holding onto both of my sons so tightly that they couldn't escape.
"See?" Jeremy said.
"Sorry," I said. I gave them each a quick kiss on the forehead, then opened my arms and let them go. Justin slid off the bed and Jeremy climbed over me and followed his brother to the bathroom. I would have loved to have gone back to sleep, but I knew I couldn't. Sleeping time was over. It was time to be Daddy again. I forced myself to swing my legs out of bed and to sit there and to await the return of the twins.
There was the inevitable splash in the toilet bowl, then the flush, then the running faucet. Finally, two pairs of legs propelled my sons through the bathroom door, across the bedroom floor, and into my arms again.
"Can I go see Brad now?" Jeremy asked.
"We have to get our haircuts this morning," I reminded him. "Remember?"
Jeremy sagged in my arm and I could feel his disappointment.
"I'll tell you what, though," I said to him. "After breakfast, you can phone him and ask if you can go over for a visit this afternoon. Okay?"
His face lit up with the smile which spread across it. "Okay!"
I got them dressed in their shorts and Tees, then sent them off to the kitchen. I soon joined them following my morning ablutions and found Mom already preparing their breakfast. Dad was working on his second cup of tea whilst entertaining the twins and Lindsay until their food was ready. Warren sat at the table sipping a glass of orange juice and Bill was busy preparing their own breakfasts.
The kitchen was filled with the smell of ‘bangers' and eggs and toast and hash browns. Not quite a
Full English Breakfast, but close enough to being one. Typical of Mom, though. She always made sure her family was well-fed.
"Sit, Dear," Mom said to me. "I'll have your breakfast ready spit spot."
Of course, there was a mug of coffee waiting at the table for me when I sat down.
"Hi, Teddy," Warren said to me. He sounded remarkably cheerful. "How did you sleep?"
I believe I growled at him.
"That good, eh?" Warren smirked.
I was about to respond to him when Justin interrupted: "Daddy, why don't you and Brad cook bangers for us?"
"We cook sausages for you all the time," I told him.
"We don't like sausages," Jeremy said. "We like bangers."
"Jeremy," I replied, "bangers and sausages are. . ."
"Theodore," Dad said gently, bringing my response to an abrupt end, "how difficult would it be to cook bangers for my grandchildren instead of sausages? When they are older, they may once again enjoy eating sausages, but, in the meantime. . ."
Dad was right, of course, and he didn't even have to finish his sentence with words. His wink was enough. I smiled and winked back before turning to my sons.
"Okay," I told them. "From now on, we'll cook bangers."
Their eyes sprang open and their jaws dropped in identical, triumphant smiles as they looked from me, to each other, then back to me again. "Thanks, Daddy," they said in unison.
Warren sighed a happy sigh and smiled a happy smile as he looked at the twins from across the table. Dad's lip curled up ever-so-slightly on one side, and then he went back to sipping his morning tea. I began the task of emptying my coffee mug.
* * * * *
Somehow we managed to keep Jeremy preoccupied until after nine o'clock. Dad and Bill had left to go to their respective work. Terry had arrived and was happily chatting with Mom and Lindsay about the hairdressing appointments she would drive them to, and Warren sat with me and the twins in the livingroom. We talked quietly as the boys watched cartoons on television.
"I really think you should stay here and wait for us," I told my friend. He was insisting on accompanying us to the barbershop to watch us get our haircuts.
"And I think I should go with you," Warren replied emphatically. Before I could respond, he held up his hand, palm forward, and stopping my words before they could begin. "I know you're concerned about me, Teddy, but I've missed so much already and I came so close to missing everything else. I don't want to miss
anything from here on in. I know it's just a haircut for the twins to you, but to me, it's an adventure. It's an event, and I want to be there to see it. I promise. I'll take it easy and I'll even take a nap when we get back if you want me to. Just don't make me miss it."
"But it's going to be tough enough for me to watch the boys without having to watch out for you, too."
"You don't have to watch out for me, Teddy," Warren insisted. "I can watch out for myself."
"Okay," I told him, "what happens if I can't find a parking spot nearby and have to park a block or two away? What happens then?"
"Simple," Warren said. "You drop me off outside the barbershop and I walk inside and wait for you. Look, Teddy. Take my wheelchair if it will make you feel better, but please don't expect me to sit here all alone and miss out on everything."
"I just want you to be around for a long, long time, Warren."
"And you don't think I want that, too? Do you honestly believe I'd do anything to jeopardize it? Life is a lot more precious when you get a second chance at it, Teddy. You just have to believe me when I tell you that I know my limits and I promise that I won't go beyond them."
Justin and Jeremy began to squeal in delight at the antics of some cartoon robot and Warren looked at them as they knelt on the carpet in front of us, leaning against the coffee table, and smiled at them. It wasn't difficult to see how much the twins meant to him.
At that exact moment, the cartoon was interrupted by one of the countless commercials on that station and Jeremy jumped to his feet, spun around to face me, planted himself between my legs with his tiny armpits resting on my thighs, and asked excitedly, "Can I phone Brad now?"
I glanced quickly at my watch. It was almost nine o'clock. "Okay. Grab my cell phone for me, please?"
My phone was on the coffee table and Justin snatched it up in his hand and gave it to Jeremy, who then scrambled into place on my right leg and handed it to me. Justin joined him on my lap, sitting on my other leg. I flipped open the telephone, pressed Brad's number on Speed Dial, then gave the phone back to Jeremy.
He anxiously placed the receiver to his ear and waited. When he didn't speak, I grabbed the base of the phone and tilted it away from his ear so I could listen. It was still ringing. I let it ring a few more times, then said to Jeremy, "Maybe he can't hear it. Let's call Grandma's number, okay?"
Jeremy nodded, then released the phone and waited for me to dial. This time, when I returned the phone to Jeremy's ear, he grabbed it again, but I held onto it and tilted it again so I could hear as well. In the midst of the third ring, Bernice answered it.
"Hello."
"Hi, Grandma," my son said. "I'm Jeremy de Villiers. Can Brad play with me?"
"Hi, Jeremy. Brad's in the shower right now, but I'll have him phone you as soon as he gets out, okay?"
"Okay. Bye."
Jeremy pushed the telephone toward me. I held it to my ear. Thankfully, Bernice hadn't hung up yet.
"Bernice?"
"Ted?"
"Yes. Look. Have Brad call my cell. Jeremy will answer it."
"He missed you all so much last night, Ted. He sat here all night moping and sulking around like a little child."
"We missed him, too."
"Well, one more day and you won't have to miss each other again anymore."
I smiled to myself. "That's true. Make sure Brad calls back, though. Jeremy's rather anxious to talk to him."
"He'll call, Ted," Bernice concluded. "Don't worry."
We said our ‘goodbyes' and hung up. I handed the phone back to Jeremy. "When it rings," I explained, "you push this button here and then you talk, okay?"
Jeremy pointed at the button. "This one?"
"That's the one," I told him.
Jeremy sat there in my lap, my phone in his tiny hand and his eyes glued to the button he would have to push when it rang. Over the next few minutes of waiting, Jeremy didn't move. I doubt he would have heard a firecracker going off behind his ear. I knew Jeremy cared a lot for Brad, but it wasn't until that moment that I realized just how much he cared and how important Brad was to him. I could have and possibly should have been jealous of Brad, but I wasn't. As the dominant twin, Justin always had first choice of everything and took what he wanted. Jeremy either did without or took what was left over. Probably for the first time in his life, Jeremy had something that Justin wasn't interested in, and that was Brad. I would never do anything to deprive him of that.
"Daddy," Justin said suddenly, "do I have to go play with Brad, too?"
"Not if you don't want to."
Justin shook his head ‘no'. "I want to stay here."
"Okay," I said to him, smiling, "you can stay here with me and Uncle Warren."
The happy smile I got back from Justin never failed to melt my heart. It was second only to Lindsay's happy smile. We turned our attention back to Jeremy's intent and intense waiting. He hadn't budged a millimetre.
"Mon Dieu!" Warren exclaimed in a whispery voice. "I bet a bomb could go off behind him and he wouldn't hear it."
I chuckled. "Well, I was thinking more along the lines of a firecracker."
"You don't think big enough, Teddy. You need to think big!"
"Yeah, I guess so." I looked back at Jeremy. "I suppose the only way he'd notice would be if the bomb went off and part of the ceiling fell on the phone and smashed it."
It was at that very moment that the phone began to chirp. Jeremy jumped so high that he actually achieved lift-off and he screamed and anxiously shoved the telephone toward me. "Daddy! Daddy! Help me!" he cried.
As Warren broke into uproarious laughter, I told my son, "Just push the button I showed you."
"I forget!" Jeremy said, his voice and face filled with panic.
I reached to connect the call for my son, but Justin beat me to it. "I ‘member, Jeremy," he said. Jeremy eagerly turned to his brother and held out the phone to him. Justin pointed with his index finger. "Push that one."
Jeremy did, then held the phone to his ear. There was still a look of fear and panic in his young face, but it soon relaxed and a relieved grin crossed it. "Brad?" he asked hesitantly. He looked up at me and grinned widely, his eyes now overflowing with happiness. "Daddy," he said eagerly, "it's Brad!"
"Go ahead and talk to him," I urged.
Jeremy's attention returned to the phone call. "Can you play with me?" he asked hopefully. His conversation with Brad was quite short, but he didn't lose his smile. In fact, it got bigger and wider with each passing moment and his eyes began to twinkle with delightful anticipation. "Really?" he said and he began to giggle. A few giggles later and Jeremy said, "Okay," and then he looked at me and held out the phone and said, "Brad wants to talk to you."
I took the phone from him. "Hi, Brad."
"Hi, Ted. Miss you."
"Me, too."
"Look, how are we going to work this?"
"Well," I replied, " we're going to get our haircuts this morning. I've got appointments set for eleven, then we might stop for lunch somewhere. What time would you be available?"
"I'll be done by lunchtime."
"Okay. Why don't we call when we get back and your Mom can come pick him up?"
"Sounds good."
"Anything you want us to send over with him?"
"No. I think we've got everything we need here. We'll be fine."
And so it was decided.
* * * * *
We lucked out, finding a parking space only a few doors away from the hair stylists. There was no need for Warren to use his wheelchair and he walked inside with us. We were a bit early for our appointments, but Phil and Tony were waiting for us and directed us to our chairs as Warren took a seat in one of the cushy chairs in front of the large plate glass windows and pulled out his and my cameras. He wanted to record the entire process for posterity.
Tony, an older gentleman who had been cutting hair for more than thirty-five years, lifted the boys one at a time and set them into their own chairs and wrapped a teal-coloured bib around each of them. Tony had the patience of Job and he had a way with kids that made him perfect for the task. I'd often watched him as he trimmed my sons' hair and I was always amazed at how his entire body moved to keep up with the occasional twisting and bobbing of little boys' heads when they couldn't seem to sit still anymore.
When he first began cutting their hair, he did them one at a time but, if space allowed, he began sitting them side-by-side and cutting their hair at the same time so he could keep their cuts more even and symmetrical. The boys liked him, especially when Tony would give them a mock shave whenever Phil shaved me.
Phil, the younger of the partners by almost two decades, was the stylist of the group and was able to do the fancier cuts. Tony was good and could duplicate a cut from a photograph, but Phil had the knack of being able to cut a style merely from a description given to him by a customer. You had only to tell him what you wanted done and he would do it. That day, though, I told him to do what he thought would look best for a groom with extremely curly hair.
As I sat there, I watched Warren in the mirror. His eyes flicked toward me occasionally but, for the most part, they were locked on the twins. I saw the enjoyment in his eyes and the tiny curls of the corners of his lips told me that he was having the time of his life as he snapped photo after photo of his nephews.
Warren had changed. Not on the outside, mind you, but on the inside. His near-death experience during his surgery had changed him. Life mattered to him now. I had really noticed it for the first time since he had arrived at my place on Thursday night following the rehearsal. It didn't matter how small or insignificant an event seemed to be, it mattered to Warren. When we ate, Warren would watch everyone else and I would see him smile ever-so-slightly at some little thing which nobody else noticed. I caught him staring at one of the walls in the livingroom one time earlier that morning and his eyes moved slowly downward from the ceiling. Finally, he stood up, walked over the to the wall and held his hand against it. When he finally coaxed a wayward ant to crawl onto his hand, he walked to the front door, stepped outside, and released it into the grass. The old Warren would have smashed it with a rolled-up newspaper. He had definitely changed.
Now, as I sat there watching my dear friend as he watched my sons getting their haircuts and snapping photos, I realized how important such a simple little thing was to him. I had thought: "It's just a haircut"; now I realize that, to Warren, it was an adventure, and it was an adventure he wouldn't have missed for the world.
Later, when we were finished at the barbershop, Warren insisted on taking us out for lunch and he insisted that Justin and Jeremy decide where we should go. They opted finally for Burger King and Warren sat there, munching his salad, as he watched the twins trying to wrap their mouths around their burgers.
"It's hard to believe we were their age, isn't it, Teddy?" he asked solemnly.
"I don't think we were
ever their age, Warren."
The twins looked over at me from across the table where they knelt on their seats. Jeremy smiled as he chewed on a mouthful of cheeseburger and Justin was busy stuffing an extra long French fry into his own mouth. Looking at them sitting there like that and smiling at me the way they were smiling made it worth being so old.
* * * * *
True to his word, Warren went into my bedroom to have a nap when we arrived back home, but only after Bernice had come over to fetch Jeremy and to take him to be with Brad for the afternoon. Justin latched onto me after that, and wouldn't let go of me. By the time Warren left for his rest, Justin was asleep in my arms where I sat on the sofa.
I rose to my feet and walked into the twins' bedroom, laying Justin on his left side in his bed. Out of habit, Justin wriggled in his sleep and reached for his brother, but Justin wasn't there. His eyes popped open and Justin rolled onto his elbow, looking around frantically for Jeremy. When his eyes finally fell on me as I stood beside his bed, he scrambled to his knees and into my arms. His eyes were suddenly filled with fear and tears and he whimpered, "Daddy, don't leave me."
Justin locked his legs around my waist and his arms around my torso and clung to me with all his might. I rubbed his back as I soothed him, promising him that I wouldn't go anywhere without him. I sat on the bed and settled on my back. By the time my head hit the pillow, Justin had relaxed and was resting his cheek against my chest.
Soon, his quiet breathing told me that he was asleep. Moments later, so was I.
To Be Continued
