LIWB Chapter 4

Mel looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. The sun rose high and hot and filled the room with natural light and air that spilled warm like dishwater. Patches of fresh mold were sprinkled at the corners of the mirror while the rest of the glass wore layers of caked smoke. But he could still see get the gist of it. The old man could still make out his gruff, growling snarl.

A week had passed since his breakfast with Rosa. Mel still lived content with his decision. Indeed, he quickly grew to love the child named Happy. Happy filled a lifelong void for Mel Stotch. Never had he been responsible for the life of another human being. He never thought he'd see the day when it would appeal to him.

As Rosa would confirm, Mel never cared for another person in his life. He had never cared for children or siblings, certainly never for his wife. They co existed until it was clearly not helping either of them. Then they got divorced, which only happened upon Rosa's insisting. Mel didn't understand why you would pay a lawyer when you could just move out for free.

Mel Stotch walked alone. Life was easier to handle that way, less roadblocks when you walk alone. But he was old now. There are more roadblocks for young men than old. Mel felt he could afford to gain a few roadblocks back as long as he was in charge. This old man finished taking orders a long time ago.

The week had progressed slowly and smooth. No emergencies shook his spirit. No screaming split his mind. Happy was a quiet baby. He cried when he was wet or stinking. The old man couldn't blame him. The crying lessened when Mel started using old torn shirts for diapers instead of the newspaper. It was more laundry but it was worth the extra silence.

Mel could do this. He had no delusions of the child having a normal, what he would call "fancy", life. His advanced age could pose no threat to the Happy's growth. Mel would never miss his graduation because he would never go to school. He wouldn't miss his wedding because he wouldn't get married. Mel would do his best to make sure the boy didn't make the same mistakes he did.

Happy would know how to keep his mouth shut. Happy would know to spot a phony, in business and in life. Happy would know to always look out for number one, hide his secrets and lie to bartenders and cops. These are things Mel would teach him. This is what Happy needed to know to be a man. Mel was a father and a soldier, fighting the good fight.

Another week passed and the scars healed from Happy's umbilical cord and circumcision. After a couple checks from his customers Mel had stocked his cabinet with Gerber's baby food and soup broth. He found a mix and milk and coffee cream the boy seemed to really like. It was the same recipe he mixed for his cats.

A week after that and Mel bought a book on raising children. He learned not to shake them or play rough. He cursed the author for his wasted cash. A penny saved is a thimble of rum.

Months passed until Mel figured the boy had a birthday. Mel bought Happy a toy ball and ate cake with his rum. The book had said he could feed a child eggs at age one. Happy slopped scrambled eggs on his face and howled with excitement. The old man wished he owned a camera for the first time in his life. Mel had so much fun he overdrank and passed out before the baby.

He missed his first word that night but heard it the first thing the next morning, waking to the bouncing child on his chest, naked and stained with egg.
"Wat!", Happy yelled as he rammed his heels into the old man's collar bone. Mel nodded, wincing as the arthritis in his back screamed with his hangover. "That's right, Happy. Rat," the old drunk confirmed. It wasn't until hours later that he grasped the significance of the event.

Three years passed like a flood as the boy grew. Mel remembered a period after he left his twenties when an eternity of life began to accelerate, his age racing like a frightened wolf. The speed decreased with his vigor, his piss and vinegar, his muscle and strength. Years returned to crawling for the last two decades, pace of which the old man had grown very fond. But then he found the boy and waved a red flag and the race started again.

Mel thought about death more often as he felt his bones erode and his body shrink. Death used to be a cold lonely idea, one he avoided whenever possible. He had been nothing and would leave nothing. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. But now he had family. Now he had a son to leave behind. His deathly vision struck a spark of warmth. Loneliness vanished with a visitor for his grave. The old man liked having a family and grew proud to be a dad.

Now that Happy walked and talked Mel had little choice but to at least allow him in the junkyard. Happy learned that he was Mel's grandson. His daddy had ran away, scared of some woman. This is how customers came to understand it and it was very close to the truth, closer than most truths Mel told his customers. And those were closer to most truths Mel told his friends. Truth was only what you believed. Happy learned that too.

Mel had taught Happy a lot of important things early, all things he intended to teach. The most important lesson was that which brought them the closest together as father and son. This experience Mel passed down would bond the two infinitely and forever impact the toddler's life. It would steer Happy in his most dire moments and define him as a man and human being.

Two weeks after Happy's fourth birthday Mel taught him how to hunt for rats.