LIW&B Chapter 8

By his tenth birthday Happy had grown very large for his age. He inherited the bulky frame of the man who left him in Mel's truck a decade ago. His hair was barely bristles, shaven clean by the old man every couple weeks. This habit was much easier than trying to trim or treat it. And it was cheaper than a barber shop too.

Happy was tall, bald, and heavy. He hovered just below Mel who stood five and half feet. He weighed over a hundred pounds but Mel didn't have a scale to be precise. Strength came with the weight. Happy grew very comfortable hauling wheel barrows full of anything from dirt to bricks. The baloney and pancakes had served him well.

The last ten years hadn't been as friendly to Mel. Then again, the old man never tried to live easy. Drinking and smoking takes a toll, especially with a poor diet. The abuse burst vessels in his arms and face, leaving spots of stained blood. As his cheeks sank to become jowls, they tanned with these spots. And Mel understood why most old people look like they live in Florida. "Half of 'em live there and the other half are drunks like me," he used to joke.

Beyond his appearance, he hurt more. Various aches, spasms, and burns increased with his age, but there was something new. The old man couldn't describe it, but it was his insides, his organs and blood. Sometimes it would be a pinch like swallowed a toenail clipper. Other times it was a hacksaw dissolving slowly in his intestines, iron cracking and rippings him apart as it crumpled through his liver. The pain had never been so bad as to make scream out loud. But that pain was coming. Mel was sure of it.

Mel never had a trust of doctors. With Happy, he kept himself as secretive as the boy. It simply became habit to avoid anything possible. Except for the tavern. That was the one place he still went for mere recreation. It was also a place he could go knowing his pain would cease. The tavern was an important part of his life. That's why he agreed to take Happy and reveal his biggest secret.

The boy was elated upon hearing the news. Mel hadn't been certain he would do it until that day. Mel never liked to set plans very far ahead. It only increased his chances of failure.

Mel had bought some other presents, mostly cat toys. Happy never gained much interest in toys except those for his cats. He never asked for specific gifts. Mel had told him to ask for present on his birthday, but there was never a party or a true celebration. This trip to the tavern would be the most fuss Mel had ever made. It meant the world to Happy. He was setting sail into the deep blue yonder.

As Mel's truck rolled into the parking lot of the shuddered tavern, Happy leaned out the window to capture it all. The neon glow beamed behind tattered shades. Only a Budweiser sign was visible on the circular window of the front door. Three cars sat in the parking lot and Mel knew them all. Happy was bouncing in his seat, scared and free. Mel put his hand on his son's shoulder to get his attention. He was very serious when he explained what he wanted.

"Listen Happy, at some point tonight, I may tell you to pull out your bill fold."
"I don't have a bill fold," Happy interrupted.
"Listen!" Mel jumped back in, "I know you ain't got one. That's not the point! If I ask you to pull out your bill fold, just tell me you left it at home. You got that?"
Happy thought it over and agreed. "I can do that, sure. But why?"
"It doesn't matter why," Mel said, "I hope I don't need to do it at all. But if I do I need you to tell me you left it at home."
Mel raised his eyebrows asking for another confirmation the boy understood. Happy didn't appreciate his father's doubts.
"I've got it, Dad! I left my bill fold at home. Geez!" Happy exclaimed.
"Hey," Mel pointed a finger at him, "I need all the attitude out of you."

Any demanding tone was pure bluff. The birthday meant more to the old man than the boy. There had been no first birthday party. Mel just turned on cartoons all day, hoping the infant could enjoy any of it. Mel had smoked a few cigars and put him to bed. There had been no first day of school, no first day of little league, no good report cards or bad. Happy had not celebrated the milestones within which parents normally rejoice.

The tenth birthday was different. A decade was an unquestionably substantial chunk of time. The tears Mel shed were as much in astonishment for his own life as the boy's. Mel couldn't believe how things had changed. Happy represented all possibilities, all miracles and magic. Mel loved for being so much more than his son.

"Come on, Dad, let's go!" Happy begged.
Mel caught himself drifting. A jagged blade dug its claws into his kidneys and Mel hopped to get a drink.
"You're right, son!" Mel agreed, swinging open the truck door. "It's time to start your birthday party!"
Happy cheered and they went inside.

Mel didn't meet as much resistance as he thought. When he introduced Happy as his son, the three geezers at the bar only nodded and smiled, barely sober enough to make a sentence much less notice the age difference. Only the bartender called for a correction, well aware the boy couldn't be the old man's son.

"Your son?" Billy the bartender shouted with a smile, "What do you mean your son? Who are you, Tony Quinn?"

Billy was in his fifties and therefore the kid of the group. He loved to ride the old bastards and bust their humps, but it was all meant in fun. Mel and the geezers laughed. Happy laughed to fit in. The boy was in Heaven.

"He's my boy. I raise him," Mel stated calmly but firm. "It's his birthday and he wanted to go out. This is the only place I know to go."
"Ain't that the truth?" Billy grinned devilishly, exposing his gold molar on his top row of teeth. He bent over the bar and reached out a hand to the tall, nervous boy. "Billy Bartender," he introduced, "Happy Birthday, uh, what's your name?"
"Happy," the boy burst.
"Happy?" Billy questioned and looked at Mel. "Is that his name? Happy?"
Mel nodded, "Damn right it is."
"Well then, Happy Birthday Happy!" Billy shook Happy's hand.

Happy was star struck. Mel walked him to the end of the bar and they sat on stools. Mel ordered a beer and Happy a soda. There they sat for a long time, Mel talked to some of the drunks. Happy wandered around the small bar, only finding a gumball machine of any true interest. They rest of the time Happy just absorbed the atmosphere, like a writer looking for inspiration.

For one beer, Mel walked Happy behind the bar. Billy allowed the boy to pour from the tap. Then he used a bar gun to pour his own soda and all his dreams were met.

The evening was without event and pleasant. Mel felt better and better about the risk he chose to take. He was grateful to shed a secret from his chest. Happy couldn't have been more satisfied. The old man was overwhelmed.

Roger Dudmore owned the tavern, formally known as "River's Bar" to those that remember the sign. Roger came in for the last couple of hours every night to shut things down. Roger was an all right fella by most counts, but he worried a lot. The more time he spent in the bar the more worried he would get. Billy preferred the least amount of time. Billy liked the last owner better.

But Roger was always kind and robust with his customers. He was a business owner that truly appreciated his patrons. There were frequent last rounds on the house since Roger began closing each night for those two or three patrons still clinging.

Roger entered his bar that night on Happy's birthday. In his serious, worried manner he immediately spotted the under age patron and the unorthodox companion. He knew Mel as one of his best customers. But he never heard of a child in his life. Roger's brain was in high gear before he even said "Hello".

"Hello everybody and good evening." It was his nightly salutation. He normally entered behind the bar on the end close to the front door. Instead, he made a beeline for the end of the bar, where Mel and Happy sat.

"Hello, Mel," Roger called as he neared, "It looks like you have a guest this evening."
Mel tense and cleared his throat. This is why he had planned.
"How ya doin' tonight, Rog," Mel waved. "This here's my boy. His name's Happy. It's his birthday."

Roger wore a smile that Mel considered fake.
"Happy, my gosh, I never heard of you." Roger extended the boy his hand, but he looked at Mel. "Happy birthday, whoever you are."
Happy shook his hand oblivious to the innuendo.
Mel cut to the chase. "Is something wrong?" Mel asked. The old man was drunk and ready for a fight.
Roger laughed, "No problem, Mel, it's just not every day I see a minor in my bar. Especially not as young as," Roger turned to Happy and asked, "How old are ya, son?"
"10!" Happy yelped.
"10 years old," Roger looked back to Mel. "I do have to worry about a liquor license. There's all sorts of folks who could bent out of shape."

Mel was easy. Roger was being easier than he thought.
"Don't worry. The kid's my son. All he's drinking is soda. He ain't gonna be in here every night."
"Your son!" Roger snapped. "You gotta be kiddin' me!"

Happy's beam dimmed and he frowned. "What?" Happy asked.
Mel jumped, protecting his cub, "I raise this boy! You got a problem with me bein' his father?"
Roger backed down, genuinely sorry for his attack. "No sir!" He backed off. "No problem at all!"

Roger stepped past them and behind the bar.
"I'm sorry, son, uh, Happy. I didn't mean to upset ya on your birthday."
Happy had already shrugged it off. "OK."
Mel had his arm around the boy, standing beside his stool.

Roger stopped once he was behind a barrier. His work wasn't done.
"Look, Mel, if that's your boy, that's great. I'm glad to meet him. If anybody asks, that'll make sense that an old man was watching his boy." Then Roger shifted and Mel smelled a rat.
"Why don't ya just let me see his ID, make sure I did what I have to do by law, and then we're totally cool."

Roger was young, younger than Billy by four years, barely out of his forties. The old guys didn't respect him. Mel thought tight behavior like this was why. But Roger was predictable. Mel knew this and had prepared his son.

Mel looked at his son. "Pull out your bill fold," he asked.
Happy only looked at him. He was confused. It took a moment to click. After an awkward second, he swallowed and played along.
"I don't have my bill fold," he quoted. "I left it at home."
Mel smiled and looked back to his foe. "I guess he didn't think he'd get carded."
Billy couldn't stifle his laugh. Roger glared at him down the bar.

"Look, it's not funny!" Roger stormed. The bar silenced against his volume. Even Roger quieted down, surprised at himself.
"What's your fucking problem, Rog?" Mel stormed back.
Happy shrank on his stool. Mel saw this and grew more bitter.
"Ya ain't gonna get raided in here! Are you serious? Pull your head out of your tight ass!"
Mel didn't regret his outburst.

Roger felt threatened with the outburst. He made a decision he felt was right.
"OK, then Mel!" He struck, "I'm sorry, but you'll have to leave. This is no place for a boy, especially one that can't be identified!"

Mel was moving. He was calm but he walked around the bar. Hell, he was in his seventies! How much of a threat could he be? Still, Roger stepped back and held out his hands in defense. Mel stopped within three feet.

"What, do you mean 'can't be identified'," the old drunk growled.
Roger stuttered when he talked. "I, I didn't mean nothing" he beseeched, "You said he ain't got ID!"
"I'm a good customer in this place for close to thirty years." Mel spoke, "You know me better than your own damn kids, livin' a thousand miles away out west. I tell you this boy's my son he is identified. If that ain't good enough, then I don't need this damn place!"

Mel turned and stormed back to grab his boy. Happy whimpered but didn't cry as he was rushed away from Oz. The three drunks waved good bye. Billy only looked down and shook his head as Roger tried to call forgiveness.

"Mel, please, come back! I didn't mean nothing! I didn't want to insult you but I gotta think of everything right? I'm a businessman! Come on!" Roger seemed genuinely sorry. He was a worried man.

Mel raced home drunk and angry. Happy sat strapped in a seat belt oblivious to the danger, enjoying the colorful words of his father's cuss. Happy thought about the bill fold. He still didn't understand.

"Why did you ask for my bill fold?" Happy asked.
Mel pulled the wheel from a swerve and answered. "I figured if someone wanted to see ID that would be a quick way out of it."
Happy watched the trees as they barely avoided them. "How did you know someone would ask for ID?"
"You're a young kid. It ain't legal for kids to be in taverns like that."

Happy felt struck with such an answer. "I was breaking the law!" Happy asked.
Mel considered the thought of innocence, breaking his rant.
"Yeah, I guess you kinda were. I was breaking the law mainly. I'm the only one that would get in trouble."
Mel intended for his answer to give the boy relief if he feared legal trouble. Instead, Happy analyzed it much further, becoming more disturbed than Mel hoped.
"Well, if you're in trouble, then I'm in trouble. If you're gone I've got no one left."

The truck fell silent. Mel couldn't believe the weight of the statement from his ten year old son. The perfect night was crashing. Mel ignored the question and fought to salvage the effort.

"Did you like your birthday, Happy?" the concerned father asked. "Did you like goin' to the tavern? Was it fun?"
Happy brightened instantly. "Oh yeah, Dad! That place was great!"
Mel closed his eyes and felt relief.

"But that last guy was a jerk," Happy added.
Mel found more surprised with this statement. He hadn't known Happy for such a verbal attack.
Mel liked this surprise. He smiled and patted his son's back.
"That's right, Son," Mel agreed. "That last guy was a jerk."

"But you knew he was gonna be a jerk!" Happy stated, waiting for confirmation.
"Yeah," Mel confirmed, "I figured he would be."
"That's smart, Dad," Happy beamed. "I want to be smart like you."

Mel allowed the compliment and expanded the lesson.
"Well, just always watch out for jerks. Learn how to spot 'em quick."
Mel slowed as they approached the junk yard.
"And once you spot 'em, stay away from 'em. Jerks like that are no better than the rats in the yard."
The old man was drunk but the words held strength. Happy would not soon forget them.