Pawpaw in a Dino

Stevie has known that he could listen to souls since he was four. It started the night his Pawpaw died. He’d been woken from a dream about being pushed in a wagon full of maggots through a sunlight-filled garage door. His blanket weighed more than a mountain, pinning his body to the bed where he lay staring up at his Pawpaw. The old man had turned on Stevie’s velociraptor lamp and stood towering over the bed, his body long and stretched out. Stevie had never seen his Pawpaw stand before. He’d been sick since before Stevie was born. At that moment, though, he became a mile high, the ceiling morphing to the shape of his height. Yet somehow, his shadowed face was right next to Stevie’s. In the light of the velociraptor lamp, the folds of his face formed deep canyons of flesh. He whispered something that Stevie couldn’t quite understand. 

“Tell your mom… you tell her I lo- Stevie… love… I-” As Pawpaw spoke, light from the velociraptor lamp melted into a golden stream that flowed into his body. As the whiskers on his face began to glow, so did the wisps of hair crowning his dark, bald head. Then his eyes turned gold, and his teeth lit up too, highlighting the big gap between his top two front teeth, just like the one Stevie and his mom had. A hand with a million fingers lit from the inside reached forever towards Stevie, then Pawpaw was gone, a dimple of buttery light pressed into the air like a thumbprint in Play-Doh. 

The velociraptor lamp was dead, but the plastic T-rex next to it opened its jaws wide. Its maw threatened to consume the whole room without ever leaving the nightstand. The only thing it ate, though, was Pawpaw’s dimple of light, plunging the room into darkness. 

Stevie opened his eyes and flung himself out of the bed with a scream.

Years later, his mom would tell him that, in the same moment her father let out his last breath in her arms, Stevie started screaming. She didn’t believe him when he told her that no, Pawpaw was in his room that night. He didn’t die, he’s actually in the T-rex, here right now. He’d tried to give her the T-rex, told her that if she’d just listen, she would hear what Pawpaw was trying to tell her. “Honey,” she’d said, the skin around her gray eyes crinkled with the same mournful look Pawpaw had given him before he turned into light. She gently pushed the T-rex back towards her son. “That’s not possible. I was holding him.” 

That was when Stevie was six or seven. To prove his point, he’d tried to relay to her what Pawpaw was telling him in that very moment, how much he missed her and loved her, that she was such a strong woman. She wouldn’t have any of it. It made her eyes narrow with anger. So when Pawpaw, from inside the T-rex, whispered at him to tell her, “I love you,” and leave it alone, Stevie did.

Stevie is nine now, and his mom doesn’t let him talk about Pawpaw with her anymore. But that doesn’t stop her dad from talking crap about Stevie’s dad or telling him funny jokes, stories from when he was an adventurous young man, and so many messages to tell his daughter. “Tell her I said she’s a good mother,” Pawpaw tells Stevie from beside his pillow as his mom lays him in the bed at night and strokes his hair. “Tell her I said I’m sorry I didn’t stop smoking sooner,” he says from inside Stevie’s sweater pocket when his daughter steps away from the dinner table to go outside and smoke a cigarette. Sometimes, all he says is, “I’m sorry,” over and over again, until Stevie has to hide the T-rex in his closet where he can’t hear the self-pitying moans of his trapped Pawpaw anymore.

Today, Stevie and his dad sit at the dinner table nibbling quietly at crispy chicken thighs from KFC. Ridiculousness plays on the TV in the living room, but Stevie and his father aren’t watching. Neither one of them laughs when a drunk woman tries to slap a man outside of a restaurant, misses, and falls to the ground. Ridiculousness is Stevie’s mom’s favorite show. It’s not funny when she’s not home to provide her running commentary on it. 

When the fourth episode they’ve played ends, there is no more coleslaw, the green beans are untouched because only his mom eats them, and his dad is reaching for the last thigh with a fat, hairy hand. It occurs to Stevie that his mom hasn’t gotten to eat any chicken yet. “Are we going to get some more chicken for when Mommy gets home?” he asks.

His dad rolls his eyes. “No,” he huffs.

“But why?”

Stevie’s dad fixes his gaze on him, beady blue eyes squinting at him between thick folds of flesh. Stevie cowers at the look, though he doesn’t know what he’s done wrong. Princess Moth, his dad’s calico cat, brushes against his leg, and the soul of the dictator she used to be in another life whispers in his mind. He’s mad at you now. If I were still a human, I would have had you killed a long time ago for your insolence. 

“Shut up! You’re just a stupid cat now,” Stevie snaps. He pushes Moth’s fluffy frame with his foot so that she runs off towards the living room.

“Stevie!” his dad thunders. “What have I told you about kicking my cat?”

“But I didn’t kick her,” Stevie counters. “I just nudged her!” 

“I don’t care what you call it. You better keep your feet off my Princess, or you’ll find yourself with both my feet up your ass.”

Stevie cringes back into his chair, clutching Pawpaw to his chest. From inside the battered T-rex, Pawpaw mutters about how much he’s always hated Kyle and his daughter should have never married him. She should have divorced him when he started getting fat and thrown his cat out the first time the little witch bit you. Stevie keeps this to himself. This man is and has always been an asshole. He’s a fatass, paleass, lazyass motherfu-

“Pawpaw says you’re being mean, Daddy.”

His dad’s round face turns the red of cheap RoseArt crayons. “Enough! I’ve had enough of this nonsense! You are nine years old, Stephen. It’s about time for you to join the real world. You need to grow the hell up and let go of these fantasies about ghosts. Your grandfather is dead. He is dead, Stephen. I don’t want to hear another word outta your damn mouth about ‘Pawpaw said this or Pawpaw said that.’ All you’re doing is stirring the pot.”

“Stop saying that!” Stevie shouts. “Pawpaw’s not dead! He’s always been right here!” he waves the T-rex to prove his point. It takes everything in him to not chuck the toy at his dad’s stupid face. How could he say that? He’s always being so mean! Stevie takes a deep breath and says the meanest thing he can think of. 

“He was just telling me how he wishes you never married mommy.” 

Stevie’s dad reaches across the table and wrenches Pawpaw out of his son’s grasp. The action is so violent that he loses his grip. The T-rex, and Pawpaw with it, get flung into the wall. Stevie watches in horror as the T-rex’s green head—which was already loose—detaches from the body and clatters to the tiled floor next to the garage door. The golden light he’d seen years ago leaks out of the T-rex’s broken neck and coalesces once again into a faint dimple. In the fluorescent light of the kitchen, Pawpaw’s soul looks less magical than it did when Stevie was four.

That sorry sonofagun! Bastard! Pawpaw exclaims. Stevie, don’t forget to keep telling your mothe-

The light scatters into the air.

“PAWPAW, NO!” Stevie howls. “Daddy, why did you do that? You killed him! He’s actually dead now. I hate you!”

“Have you lost your damn mind? Go to your room!”

“I hate you!” Stevie screeches again. “I hate you!” He can’t stop. How could he, why should he, when he’s never going to be able to talk to his Pawpaw ever again? He’s dead! 

“I said go to your room! You better get outta my face right now little boy before I change my mind and whoop your behind.”

Stevie pushes away from the table and knocks his chair over in the process. As his dad reaches towards him again, he runs away, wailing the whole way to the stairs. Moth lays curled in her raggedy crown cushion next to the first step. She glares at him through hateful, yellow eyes. You deserved it, the dictator hisses. Moth hisses too. Stevie stomps in her direction and increases the intensity of his cries until she darts away. 

When he reaches his room at the end of the hall, Stevie slams the door shut. Picture frames shudder in the hallway. He locks his door and launches himself onto the bed, ignoring his dad’s threatening shouts from downstairs. 

Not long before he died, Pawpaw took Stevie with him to see the premier of Jurassic Park 3. Stevie loved it so much that his grandfather bought him the bedding he beats with his fists now. It is covered in dinosaurs and had come with the velociraptor lamp on Stevie’s nightstand as well as the little, plastic T-rex his father had just broken. 

With an agonized cry, he jumps out of the bed, tears the comforter off, and throws it on the floor. He imagines that he has slammed it onto the ground with the force of a pro wrestler and knocked it unconscious, maybe even killing it. He wishes that it had crashed through the floor and broken Moth’s stupid head the way Pawpaw’s T-rex’s head got knocked off. 

“I miss Pawpaw!” He sobs to himself while standing helplessly in the middle of his room. “Why did Daddy have to do that to him? 

Eventually, he curls himself into a ball in the comforter on the floor. At some point, his wailing turns into jagged hiccups, which then turn into intermittent sniffles, and he falls asleep. He hasn’t been asleep for very long when the garage door rumbles and rouses him from scattered dreams of his Pawpaw’s laughter and the overlapping voices of grass blades growing through cracks in the sidewalk. Stevie sits up and rubs crusted up tears out of his eyes. His mom must be home now. He has to go tell her what Daddy did to him. Surely, she will defend him. Maybe, she might even be able to figure out how to put the T-rex back together. She’s really good at fixing things. If she fixes it well enough, maybe Pawpaw might come back.

The thought sends a warm jolt of adrenaline and hope through Stevie. He springs to his feet and leaves his room. He pauses at the top of the stairs when his mom comes in through the back door. 

“It’s about time,” his dad grumbles.

Stevie’s mom ignores the comment and asks, “What’s this?” Her voice is quiet and lethargic. She left the house for work some time around six in the morning, right after she’d woken him up for school. It is past ten now. 

“That damn T-rex Stevie’s always carrying around.” The note of satisfaction in his dad’s voice makes Stevie’s blood boil. He has to resist the urge to surge down the stairs and start screaming at him again.

There is a momentary pause. “What happened?” 

“Stevie kicked Princess Moth. I decided it was time to show him a lesson.”

That’s not how it happened, Stevie wants to scream. Something stops him.

“Kyle…”

“Come on now, Anne. Don’t pretend that you haven’t also been wishing something would happen to that plastic piece o’ crap so that he would finally stop.” The hot thread of hope that drew Stevie to the stairs shrivels up inside of him. His dad continues, unaware of how each of his words punches his son in the gut. “Ever since Earl died, Stevie’s been using that thing as an excuse to parrot off all the bullshit he used to say about me.”

Stevie’s mom’s next words strike like the hail that comes before a tornado. “Is that what this is about? Are you seriously still beefing with my dad, Kyle?” Her voice raises. “That man has been dead for over four years now. When are you going to let it go?”

“Maybe I woulda let it go a long time ago if you’da shut that shit down before it poisoned my damn son against me! Maybe, just maybe, if you weren’t too busy fucking cheating on me, you would’ve been home tonight to hear our son say that Pawpaw says he wishes you never married me!”

Stevie’s ears ring in the silence that follows. Even Moth has the sense to understand the gravity of what has been said. She runs up the stairs and darts past him without letting the dictator say anything to provoke him. 

He wishes he had never left his room. He wasn’t supposed to hear that. He didn’t want to hear that. But the revelation has made him too woozy to move.   

“I am not cheating on you,” his mom says tersely. She says it so quietly that Stevie almost misses it. “I have been working my ass off to support our family while you sit around and watch Ridiculousness all day. Do you not understand how making money works? The less you work, the more I have to work to make sure our bills are being paid. Do you have any idea how much work I’ve been doing since I got that promotion? I took it so that we could afford for you to take the time to go back to school. But what have you been doing? Sitting around getting all bitter imagining another man fucking me over my desk?”

Stevie can’t contain his gasp. He claps a hand over his mouth, but the damage is already done. Before he can scurry back to his room, his mom is already standing at the bottom of the stairs calling out his name. His dad lumbers over to stand behind her. He frowns and presses a fist into his forehead with a sigh.

“Get down here, Stevie,” his mom says. Though it is not with the same frightening tone she used with her husband, Stevie still bursts into tears again. He doesn’t want to talk to them. Everything that has happened tonight is Stevie’s fault. He should’ve never brought Pawpaw to dinner with him. His parents must be so angry at him. If he’s the reason they break up, he’s going to get the biggest butt whoopin of his life if he goes down stairs. But if he goes into his room and locks the door, when they finally get to him, it will be so much worse. If only he could disappear. 

As if reading his thoughts from inside of the bathroom across the hallway, the dictator whispers to him, I would execute you now if I could. It would be a mercy.

His mom begins to climb the stairs, his dad huffing and puffing his way up after her. Stevie blubbers through snot running down his face, “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it! I swear it. I didn’t mean to make you guys angry at eachother. I’m sorry!”

Stevie does not see his mom’s arms wrap around him. He sags into her arms and clutches at her frilly, orange blouse as he smears his wet feelings all over it. “You guys can’t leave eachother. You can’t. Pawpaw’s gone for real now You guys can’t leave me too.” 

It is his dad who finally responds. His words are delicate and strained, like a tired ballerina struggling to stay on her toes. “We’re not gonna leave eachother, Stevie. Or you.” He sighs and places a warm hand on his son’s head, something that makes Stevie feel really small again. “Sometimes… people get angry at eachother. They misunderstand eachother and say things they don’t mean, things they shouldn’t’ve said.” Stevie feels his mom’s body tense at the words. “Your grandfather wasn’t very nice to me, and you’ve gotta understand that—” For a moment, his dad sounds like he’s choking on his words. “... that he hurt my feelings. The things you tell me Pawpaw said, they hurt my feelings. But, as the adult in the situation, I reacted poorly tonight. I know you were real close to him, and I haven’t given that as much thought as I outta’ve. You were so young when he died. I didn’t think you would be so deeply affected by his loss.”

As if the words pain him, he says, “I shouldn’t’ve broken your T-rex. That was mean. I’m sorry.”

The admission stuns Stevie. He’s never heard him say anything like it. His dad, up until now, has never apologized to Stevie for anything ever. He didn’t think his dad even knew what “sorry” meant. He pulls his face out of his mom’s soggy shirt, looks up at his dad, and reaches up to touch the hand on his head. 

His mom mumbles, “I was mean too.”

“So was I,” Stevie adds in a whisper.

“I guess we gotta figure out how to be nicer to each other, huh?” His dad says, trying to laugh and failing.

Stevie had listened to Pawpaw’s tirades about his father for long enough to know the old man would be talking smack right now if he were still here. But, with Pawpaw’s soul gone forever, he chooses to imagine instead that his grandfather says sorry too and is joining in on the family hug.