My Dad's Best Friend

        It’s been a long drive so far. I was pretty excited when I was told my dad was taking me on a trip to see my Aunt Lindsey; I hadn’t seen her in a few years. My dad was excited too at first, but as we get closer to Aunt Lindsey’s I can see that he’s getting more and more… I don’t know, sad? I don’t think that’s the right word for it, but there’s definitely something there that’s growing with every passing mile.

               Some time passed until our conversations stopped altogether, but at least we weren’t far from our destination.

               We pulled up to Aunt Lindsey’s, who was standing on her front porch wearing a rainbow-stained cooking apron as she stood there grinning at us. She did an excited power-walk as my dad got out of the car and squeezed him in a hug – I’m pretty sure I heard his back pop a little. She then turned to me, exclaiming, “Oh my God, you’ve gotten huge!” before she gave me the same bone-popping hug.

               “Thanks!” I said, exasperated, “You haven’t changed a bit!” She laughed at that, saying how sweet I was, and my dad exhaled through his nose with a smirk. I don’t think he was upset with her, but he was obviously upset about something here.

               Later in the afternoon, my dad set up a temporary workspace in Aunt Lindsey’s study while I was hanging out with her in the kitchen. She told me stories of her and my dad growing up in this house and what it was like back then. “It sounds like you guys liked it here,” I said, “but why did Dad look like he was bothered by coming here?”

               Aunt Lindsey sighed sadly, saying, “Well, when he was about your age he had a friend one summer here, his name was Archie. We don’t know how it happened or where he went, but one day Archie went down into the storm cellar, and he just disappeared. I remember your dad telling Archie not to go down there because our mom always forbade it, but Archie was just so determined to go in. Once your dad built up the courage to go in after him, Archie was nowhere to be found. I just don’t think your dad was ever the same after that.”

               “I had no idea…” I said softly. “Did no one call his parents?” I asked. Aunt Lindsey shook her head, “We never knew his parents; we couldn’t find anything on them after the fact, either. It’s almost like he just appeared one day and left just as suddenly. We never could explain it, and I think that made it worse for your dad.”

               Our conversations would shift until dinner time when Dad told us about his latest project he was working on over a plate of roast beef, but the story of Archie never left my mind that day, and it kept me up overnight. The mystery of my dad’s best friend had stumped me, and I couldn’t sleep hardly a wink as I was wondering where he went.

***

The next day, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Aunt Lindsey had gone to the store, and my dad was upstairs working away, and I knew he wouldn’t be out for a few hours. So, I had time to go into the forbidden storm cellar and conduct my own investigations.

               I opened the creaky doors and quietly tip-toed down the steps as if one squeak from the floorboards would alert my dad upstairs, sending him running down here to tear me a new one for going down here.

               Upon reaching the bottom I looked around and saw that the walls were lined with dusty shelves topped with jarred preservatives, so covered in cobwebs I didn’t think anyone had been down here to clean since long before I was born. I tried to search for any kind of clue as to where Archie might have gone. But it was so dark down here, if there was anything to note down here, I was missing it. I found a cord hanging from the ceiling and noticed there was a single light bulb, though I had little faith if it would even work, I reached up and pulled the cord. Click.

               To my surprise, it did work, and when the room lit up, I could see that the shelves weren’t nearly as dirty as I originally thought, and the glass jars they held were only mildly dusted; there was hardly a cobweb in sight.

               Now with the cellar fully illuminated, there hidey hole in the wall did not reveal itself. I shoved against the not-so-dusty shelf to activate the escape hatch which did not open on the floor. I lifted the rug and saw there was no secret door that led further down into the ground. I sighed disheartened and trudged back up the stairs.  

               Back out in the open, I saw a little boy sitting on the grass. He looked about my age and he was setting up some archery range against the back fence. I walked up to him, a little confused, saying, “Hey. Do you live around here?” He jumped in startled and turned to face me, his eyes went wide as he said, “Yeah, I do! What about you? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.” I shook my head, “Nah, I’m just in town visiting my aunt, but she’s at the store right now.” I paused, looking at his archery equipment set up. “Do you know how to shoot these?” I asked eagerly.               

               “Not really,” the boy replied sheepishly, “My dad bought me this stuff, I thought I’d set it up before lunch. What about you, do you shoot?” I shrugged with my hands in my pockets, saying, “Yeah, I’m not bad. My dad taught me, and we like to go shooting arrows every summer.” The boy's eyes lit up again as he exclaimed, “Wicked! You’ll have to shoot these with me when they’re ready!” I grinned back at him, “Totally!”

At that moment, I heard a voice call from inside my aunt’s house saying that lunch was ready. “That’s my mom,” the boy said simply, “would you want to come in for lunch? I’m sure there will be enough macaroni for you too – my mom always makes too much!”

               I looked around at the neighboring houses, feeling sure I heard wrong and that the voice came from one of the other houses. “Sure,” I replied hesitantly, “Why not? My aunt’s probably not gonna be back for probably another hour anyway.” So, I followed the boy as he turned to walk away, but oddly he walked right into my Aunt Lindsey’s house. But when I stepped inside, it also wasn’t my Aunt Lindsey’s house. The layout was the same, but all the furniture was different, and the TV was much smaller. “Uh…” was all I could say.

               The boy made a ‘follow’ gesture with his hand and said, “This way, I think you’ll really like it – my mom always makes it so cheesy!”  So, I followed him into the kitchen that was and wasn’t my Aunt Lindsey’s, feeling like I was stuck in some kind of dream. Maybe I just bumped my head while I was in the storm cellar? That made the most sense in this situation and decided to make the best of it and enjoy the bowl of mac’n’cheese with my new, I guess supposedly, imaginary friend; and he was right – it was very cheesy.

***

               After lunch, my friend took me to the shed that both was and wasn’t my aunt’s around the corner. He opened it up and showed an old motorbike leaning against the wall. “Dang!” I whistled, looking at the silver and green beauty. “Oh, yeah,” my friend said in return, “ain’t she somethin’? My dad bought it real cheap at a yard sale. He kept it here promising to help restore it with me, but he had to go away for a bit. My mom called it a ‘dee-ploy-mint.’” I nodded understandingly; my dad always did that sort of thing too. “Well,” I inquired, “Do you think he’d mind if we tried to fix it up? We can make it a surprise for him when he gets back. Besides it’s summer – we have all the time in the world!”

               My friend beamed at me. “Hey yeah! That’s a pretty good idea. But first –” he nudged his head to the side, “We got some arrows to shoot.”

               “I bet you I can hit the bullseye first!” I wagered, and he grinned mischievously. “You’re on!” and with that, we raced to the two little wooden bows waiting for us on little stands with their pouches of blunted arrows. Now I don’t mean to brag, but I definitely hit the bullseye. A lot. After a long competition, my friend whistled admiringly, saying, “You’re one heck of an archer, buddy.” I nodded my red face as I puffed out my chest, “Yeah, told you I was good!”

               He clapped a back on my shoulder saying, “You’re amazing is what you are. Best archer I ever saw!” he screwed up his face in an inquisitive expression as he looked at me. “What?” I asked. He snapped his fingers and said with a smirk, “That’s it – I’ll call you Archie from now on!”

               I felt my blood freeze and all the air leave my body. I stared incredulously at him and asked hoarsely, “What did you say…?” But he ignored my question, saying, “Hey, by the way, my mom says you can stay the night. Do you want to? It’s Summer, so we can stay up late playing my new Atari!”

***

               I could never reason with myself how it works, and whether or not it was even real. I was Archie – certainly, it was all a dream; and it being a dream, the laws of time didn’t really work here, did they? So, we spent weeks practicing our archery together, playing Atari, and working on that old motorbike together. But one late afternoon a storm was coming in, and from the sounds of it, it was a big one. I couldn’t explain the feeling it gave me; I just knew I had to go back into the cellar and be back with my dad and aunt now, or I might not be able to again. I didn’t want to worry my friend, so I snuck outside of the house when he was in the bathroom and ran towards the cellar doors. But as I flung them open, I heard him yell behind me, “Archie, wait! We’re not supposed to go down there!”

               I turned and looked solemnly at him. I began to accept that none of this was a dream, and somehow, I was Archie, back here in time. Knowing this, I knew my dad – my present-day dad, I guess – was worried sick about me, and I had to let him know I was okay. I said quietly, “Sorry, Dad. I’ll try to come back and see you sometime?” and I darted down into the cellar. I saw the light bulb with its pull switch and saw that after all this time, it was still on. Hoping that this light was the key, I reached up and pulled the switch. Click.

               Darkness. I could vaguely see the cobwebs back in their prime as they coated the shelves lining the walls. I stepped outside and saw it was midday again and let out a relieved sigh. “I’m so sorry to leave you like that, Dad,” I said sadly. Then I remembered why I had come back in the first place – I ran towards the house and lunged up the stairs, taking two or three steps at a time. I came to the room where my dad set up his temporary office and flung the door open. “Dad! Dad, I’m back!”

               He looked dumbstruck as he observed me sweating and panting heavily. “Okay? I saw you, like, five minutes ago, champ. What’s up?”

               I tried to contain my frantic panting as I grappled with what he said. “Wh…What? Five minutes? Are... Are you sure?” He looked at his watch, and said, “Well, okay, seven minutes. Is everything okay?”

               This didn’t make any sense, but I guess it could have been worse. I haven’t been gone for almost two months to him. Maybe knowing this, I can go back and fix my dad’s heartache by losing Archie. “Yeah, sorry Dad. Sorry, just feels like I’ve been gone longer.” I said.

               “That’s alright bud, I know how it gets.” He said with a tired smile, and I smiled back before closing the door.

***

Tink. Tink. Tink.

Back in the cellar. I pulled on the dangling cord again and again, hearing the irritating Tink as it went down, but the light wouldn’t turn back on. I stepped back outside dejectedly, hanging my head. I felt worse about leaving, leaving my dad to worry and wonder about his childhood friend his whole life. I continued this composure as I walked aimlessly around the yard until I came to the old shed. “Wait…” I muttered. I opened the door to the shed and yes, it was still there. The vibrant Green and white had faded, and there was a lot more rust, but here was the old motorbike right where they left it all those years ago. That’s when I had an idea.

“Dad!” I yelled. “Dad!” I yelled as hard as I could, trying to get my dad’s attention. After a few minutes I felt, he wasn’t going to come until I heard the back door open, and my dad stepped outside. “What’s going on?” He said slowly, “Everything okay – hey, would you look at that!” He walked up next to me and stared at the old motorbike, placed his hands on his hips, and whistled admiringly, just like he always did growing up. “I can’t believe your Aunt Lindsey kept this; she never told me.”

“I thought it looked pretty cool,” I said casually, “And thought maybe we could try and get it working again?” My dad scrunched up his face as he looked at the old bike, and said, “Oh, I dunno… I got a lot of work, kiddo.” I scoffed and said, “Come on, Dad! It’s summer!”

At this, my dad’s face lightened, and he seemed to lighten up so as if there was a literal gray cloud above him that had only now begun to clear. “You’re right,” he said cheerfully, “It is Summer – and we have all the time in the world.”