Uncle Albert

It was about twenty minutes past what I considered late, too long. I periodically checked my watch, bouncing my foot. Then after five agonizing minutes, it was a boy.

“Congratulations! You’re a father.”

That condescending remark of this doctor wasn’t enough to bring down my mood. I was ready to jump off my shoes. I picked up my phone and did the first thing that came to my mind.

“Hey Dad, it’s a boy!”

“Okay.”

“Dad. I’m a father!”

“Yeah.”

“Dad, did you not hear me? I’m a Dad.”

There was a strange rustling in the background. Something wasn’t right. Almost as if Dad was ready to ground me or something.

“You’re mother is in the hospital”

“What! Is she okay?”

“Yeah she’s fine.”

“Why is she in the hospital?”

It seemed like those seconds my Dad took to respond were longer than waiting for my unborn child.

“Son. Remember that thing you always wanted as a kid?”

“You got me a new bike?”

“It’s a boy.”

His name was Albert. He was a gift from the heavens at such an inconvenient time. I couldn’t believe that after all these years, my parents decided to have sex. We all went back to my parent’s house. Me, my Mom, my Dad, my son, my girlfriend and Albert all sat in silence. My son started crying, triggering Albert to respond louder as if it was a challenge. My girlfriend went to tuck in my son and Albert. That night, I interrogated my Mom and Dad until morning. I was never the type of son to ask first.

“I was only gone a year.”

“I’m sorry son. We were going to tell you. But we were waiting for your call. You never even told us where you went off to.”

It was true. I wrote only once those long tortuous twelve months. After getting my girlfriend pregnant, my relationship with Mom and Dad has been sour at best. They had no reason to be proud of me. Like I had no reason to be proud of myself.

So, uncle Albert would grow inch by inch, as did my son. They were more brothers to each other than I was to my own brother. They both referred to me as Elder Paul, despite not being Mormon for about a decade or so. Uncle Albert would be known as uncle Albert by everyone, even his friends. My son would be known as, well, uncle Albert’s nephew. I watched them fight, play, excel. Must have been nice. Although I noticed that my own son was in his uncle’s shadow, I couldn’t help to think that he saw Albert as more of a father than me.

Albert would already be taking Calculus in middle school. I never took Calculus. Well, all the way I mean. I don’t really remember college as much as my girlfriend. She took precalculus. My son could barely pass his classes, but what he lacked in smarts, he made up with raw muscle. He was a unit. Complete with social smarts rather than book smarts. I barely had my parent’s care about me.

Seeing my brother and son have such a good time in high school, made me the biggest chump bucket in all of existence. How could it be possible that such young children would be so much better than me at everything? I couldn’t believe it. As my brother got put on the president’s honor roll and my son receiving a letter from the president for being such a good football player, I threw up daily.

“Hey Dad. Are you okay?”

I looked back and it was my son. He looked like a million dollars ready to dunk my head into the toilet.

“I’m fine son.”

“Is it okay if me and uncle Albert go to the prom?”

“Yeah sure whatever.”

“Okay. Are you sure you’re okay Dad?”

“I’m fine!”

I got another knot in my belly. I couldn’t believe I yelled at my own son. And for what? Because I was a massive unarchiver. I drove to Mom and Dad’s that afternoon.

“Hi Mom.”

“Hello Paul! Oh my baby! Come in! Honey Paul’s home!”

The house looked new and refurnished, as if everything I leave behind turns to gold. I have an anti midas touch. Albert came out of my room and looked up at me.

“Hello Elder Paul.”

“You know you don’t have to call me that.”

“I know. I like to.”

Dad came to my rescue. Albert went back into my room.

“Hey son. What brings you here?”

“Dad, are you proud of me?”

“Why do you say that?”

I knew he was playing dumb. No Dad in the world would be proud of a college drop out. Even less if that college drop out abandoned his parents after they kicked him out for getting a girl pregnant. I looked into his eyes. But after a while, I didn’t even notice he hugged me hard.

“Oh son. I will never be disappointed in you!”

My heart melted into butter. I couldn’t hear such words without tumbling like bricks. I went back home. I needed to apologize to my son, but my girlfriend was the only one home.

“Where were you! I was calling you!”

“I was at my parent’s house. Where’s..?”

I didn’t really hear her say the next line, all I remember after was driving on the road again to find my son.

I put up flyers the next morning. My heart became cold and hardened again. This time with a hint of blue. I didn’t want to lose him. I can’t lose him.

After three weeks and no sign of my son, I retreated to a corner and didn’t move out of that spot since.

My girlfriend would eventually get a spatula and pick me up like a piece of meat.

“Look, if you’re not going to his graduation, at the very least call them and tell them that you’re not going.”

I didn’t respond. I let my silence speak for itself. I let her pick me up like a baby and put the seatbelt on me like the child I was. I didn’t really fight it. 

We were all there for uncle Albert, the valedictorian. He had a long speech that didn’t really click into my ears because my stupid brain. All I could think about was my son. It was almost like I could see him running on the field yelling.

“Uncle Albert!”

And so, on stage, like a moment from a soap opera come to life, my brother and my son hugged each other and the auditorium cheered.

Everyone threw their hats in the air. It was over. My son and my brother had each other and they also had me to support them throughout their lives, as did my Mom and my Dad for me.

My girlfriend, my Mom, my Dad, uncle Albert, my son and myself all grouped together at the end of the ceremony.

“Hey Elder Paul.”

“Yes Albert”

“How come you always talk so down about yourself.”

“Because I never realized what you meant to me.”

After the group photo, my son was kissed by a girl, the first time I seen her. He then held her hand and looked at me straight.

“Hey Dad, um, I don’t know how to tell you this without you getting mad at me again but this is Claudie and well. I mean.”

This girl interrupted him in the middle of his babble.

“Just tell him Rich.”

“She’s pregnant!”