Day 95 - Wisdom from the son I never had

 Wisdom from the son I never had

 Matthew Ryan Fischer

 

It was twenty past three when Arnold awoke, the dream already fading from his mind. Something to do with his son. It was so crystal clear, so much so, he was sure he would never forget it. But a millisecond later, as his mind focused and he turned to look at the clock, he could tell the memory was already beginning to disappear. He had to go to the bathroom. Another joy of being well past forty.

They would have named him Jeremy, had he and Emily had a son. He and Emily. Words together that didn’t mean much now. And hadn’t for a long long time. They had discussed names. Only half-joking. Something couples did from time-to-time when they were serious. They didn’t agree on too many, boys or girls. At first, she had been upset, as if he were telling her what they were going to do. He only meant to say he had been thinking about it. It was supposed to sound sweet. It was supposed to make her happy. It was supposed to show he was the sort of man who thought about such things. But he had offended her anyway. As if he were the type of man to tell her anything.

Jeremy hadn’t been his first choice, but it was a safe choice. Neither knew anyone named Jeremy and they couldn’t think of any bad experiences around the name. If they hadn’t crossed off so many other names, it probably would have never made it up the list. But it was something they wouldn’t fight over. And sometimes that was enough.

Arnold so desperately wanted to remember the dream. It felt so real. To have a son. To give advice. To see him smile. It was like a glimpse of what could have been. But dreams don’t work in straightforward fashion and he knew that the son hadn’t been his, and they hadn’t been doing anything that would last or make Arnold less alone. Still, he wanted a second, a moment, to fill one tiny piece of his empty heart.

Arnold thought about Emily. He hadn’t seen or heard from her in months. She was taking a break from him, which was fine. He owed her that. He didn’t want to be a burden. He didn’t want to cling or make her feel like she was obligated to prop him up or fill the voids in his soul. Still, he wished he had a reason to call her. A dream of a son they never had would never suffice as a decent reason. It was sad and pathetic and there was nothing attractive about a sad and lonely old man.

Jeremy called him Dad. Arnold felt a certain pride, as if he had earned that title. If only that were true. If only there were someone for him to pass all his love and wisdom to. If only he had tried harder.