Foolish Destroyers of Comfort and Peace

by Charles C. Cole

In his workday, Leonard Rowe shuttled donor blood from across the state to the main collection and processing facility. The downside: long drives and no radio. The upside: no boss leaning over his shoulder, and Leonard often stopped at home for lunch. He genuinely liked the countryside and the welcoming smiles from the people he met.

Then there were cutbacks, like outsourcing his position to a courier service, for which he could apply and receive fewer benefits. So, he retired early.

“You’ll be bored,” said his jealous wife, Myra.

“I’m willing to risk it,” said Leonard.

In exchange for the premature end of his career, Leonard’s home life flourished. He cultivated a thick, weed-free lawn and the most colorful garden on his street, he was a one-man Neighborhood Watch, and he plowed nearby driveways for free, because he had the time.

He met the summers-only residents, the Goyettes, when they were walking their two chocolate labradoodles. He even introduced himself to the only local singleton, Liz Cipallone, down the long private drive near the power line, when her mail was accidentally dropped in his box. And she returned the favor with a vase of freshly-snipped lilac blooms, which Myra immediately noticed.

Leonard rocked gently in the iron outdoor sofa glider with his arm around his still-employed wife, pointing with his chin at a wild rabbit hopping tentatively across the lawn.

“I should have brought my camera,” Leonard whispered.

“You don’t have to document everything,” said Myra. “Just enjoy the moment.”

“Says the woman who videotaped every Christmas and every birthday, even the embarrassing time your boychild ran bare-naked through the sprinkler. That reminds me: Liz, down the street, says she’s seen bear tracks.”

“Did she invite you over to take a look?”

“Yes,” he answered carefully, “but I told her I’d wait until you could come, too.”

“Good answer.”

Just then a black and red motorcycle arrived, the loud engine chasing the bunny into the bushes.

“Cyrus, your grownup boychild, is here,” said Leonard. “Somebody needs something.”

“I told him he should come appreciate his father’s nature collection,” Myra explained.

“Sounds like I’ve euthanized butterflies and pinned them to a corkboard.”

Cyrus killed the motor, removed his helmet and wandered over. For a guy who spent all his time with computers, he still had the body of a professional basketball player.

“Forget your family?” asked Leonard. “Where’s the wife and kids?”

“Bath night. Lola said if I wasn’t going to help, she’d rather I went for a ride, rather than be a distraction.” Cyrus caught his mother’s meaningful glance. “Besides, I heard there was a fellow with two green thumbs in these parts. Sounded gross, but worth a look.”

Leonard stuck out his hands. “Not me. Guess you wasted your time.” Myra cuffed his wrist.

She stood. “Can I get you a beer, Cyrus?”

“Just a small one, sure, thanks.” Myra headed for the kitchen.

“Do they make small ones? She still treats you like you’re five,” said Leonard. “If I’d asked for a beer, she would have stuck her fingers in her ears.”

“Maybe,” countered Cyrus, “it’s ‘cause I didn’t ask.”

“So if I want a beer, I shouldn’t ask, then she’ll bring me one?”

“Works for me,” said Cyrus.

“At home, too, with the wife?”

“No comment.”

“What do you think of your father’s passion project? Be honest.”

“I’d say you have a lot of free time on your hands, to buy seedlings, fertilizer, tomato cages.”

“Someone’s got to keep that big-box store busy. They probably employ half the town. Your cousin, Ingrid, is a manager. Uncle Henry’s a greeter. I don’t think he’s qualified for anything else. Can’t see beyond the end of his nose.”

“Dad,” said Cyrus, “before Mom comes back, can I ask your opinion?”

“I don’t care what your father-in-law insists, we definitely landed on the moon,” Leonard half-joked. “I watched it in real time.”

“Can the kids come over one day a week, to give Lola a break?”

“What’s wrong with the daycare her sister uses?”

“They don’t need more time with her sister’s kids. They need more time with their grandparents.”

“Your mother’s still working.”

“But you’re not,” pushed Cyrus. “Besides, they’re only young once.”

“Who’s only young once?” asked Myra, returning.

“Apparently Lola,” said Leonard.

“Kid problems?” asked Myra, instinctively.

“Thank about it, Dad,” said Cyrus. “I got to go.”

“What about your beer?”

Cyrus waved over his shoulder. “Give it to Dad. Poor guy is all work and no play.” Cyrus climbed on his motorcycle and left.

“What’d I miss?” asked Myra.

“Cyrus thinks I’m all play and no work. He’d like to remedy that once a week.”

“Give you the kids? But I’m still working,” said Myra.

“That’s what I said.”

“What about Saturdays? When we’re both home. Didn’t anybody think of that?”

“Nope.”

“I’ll call Lola, right now.”

“They’ll probably pick the flowers, trample the grass, and chase the rabbit,” said Leonard.

“Too bad.”

“What if Saturday’s not an option?”

“Then, I’ll retire. You did.”

“Really?”

“Then they can come over more than once a week,” said Myra.

“But my flowers!”

“You’re only doing that because you have nothing better to do. Now, you’ll have something better to do.”

“Myra, will you really retire? I don’t think I can do it alone. I was a pretty lousy father until Cyrus got into high school. When we had more in common.”

“I know. And this is your chance to try again. I’ll be right here. We’ll do it together. If they get to be too much, we’ll call Lola to come get them. It’ll be fine.”

Leonard grabbed the beer from Myra and guzzled it. She watched. He sighed. “Can I have another?”

“You have legs,” said Myra.

“I need a few minutes alone to say good-bye to my rabbit and my garden.”

“Nothing’s going away. We’re just... sharing them.”

Maybe it was the beer, but Leonard’s eyes grew wide and watery. “Fine. All you had to do was ask.”