The Fall Guy - A Short Story
Fall was always his favorite season. The brisk air and the way the colorful leaves were crisp beneath his steps seemed somehow magical to him and every year he wanted it to last forever.
That fall, things were going to change for him. He was prepared for whatever that brought to his life, even if it meant that he wouldn’t be able to turn back to how he had lived until now. But that was okay, he thought, change meant exactly that - you couldn’t just remain the same.
It had been a journey, for sure. For over a year and half it had been a journey of discovery. His mother and father, Cindy and Brian Sinclair, had given their blessings to him. So with the strength of their faith and good wishes, Mike Sinclair had set out to find his birth parents.
At first, Mike thought that even the idea of him searching for the people who gave him up would kill his parents. They certainly didn’t deserve that. All his 21 years, they had stood by him, raised him as their own, loved him, fed him and cared for him. He owed everything to them. But one night, he casually mentioned finding his biological parents at the dinner table and without skipping a beat; they smiled and said they would help him.
The Sinclairs were innocent to the journey on which they’d embarked on with their son, the night they decided to search for them. All they hoped for was resolution for their beloved child. They knew this was a step in the right direction. Mike was 21 years old now. His life was just starting out. How can he fully start a life, if major pieces of it have been inadvertently deleted from his history?
Mike wasn’t adopted the regular way. Cindy and Brian didn’t go to the local adoption agency and hand over a lifetime of savings to get him. Instead it was almost like they accidentally fell into an elaborate Find-a-Kid society of do-gooders and lucked out. The baby was just under a year old, when he was placed into their loving arms. After they had Mike with them, of course, they went through all of the legalities of making him a real Sinclair. It was the blurry lines of his adoption that made it harder to connect the dots. Initially, they had only voiced their hopes of adopting, not really taking any steps toward realizing that dream. But then they went through a friend of a friend who knew of a family who knew of this child who was about to be orphaned to a small town pastor and his kind-hearted wife.
The pastor took great pains to protect whoever had asked to be kept out of the line of scrutiny. He kept his answers about the child to a minimum. In a photograph they were given, the little boy was beautiful. Cindy and Brian got the impression that if they asked too much, the child would be taken away before they’d even held him. By that time, they’d had their hearts set on the little boy they had only heard great things about. They walked the tightrope the pastor and his flock held taut beneath them. They smiled a lot and nodded a lot, taking great care not to upset anyone in the chain that would hoist the boy out from a life as an orphan and get him into their lives.
Countless searches and letters and now they had answers. Mike was ecstatic.Although it wasn't the one he expected to find, it was a start. It wasn’t that there was anything missing in his life. On the contrary, he had a full and promising life. He had earned a scholarship to attend university and taken the burden off his parents of paying for school. He was strong and healthy. He was in love with Elizabeth Rincón, an English major at his school.
Finding out about his past wasn’t to fill a void, but more to complete the circle that made up his life. Why was his hair dark and why were his eyes green? Were the freckles at his temples hereditary? He had hairy arms and legs, but a bare chest? Did that come right from his lineage? What about being left-handed? Was that a part of them? Did he look like his biological mother, or his father? Were they sick, or was there anything in their medical past that he should worry about in his seemingly perfect future? He wanted to have all of the answers people have when they are not adopted. These are answers he felt he owed himself, Elizabeth and any future children they might have. Mostly, Mike wanted to put the puzzle pieces into something he could call a pretty picture.
Now there was the opportunity for Mike to ask everything and finally have all the answers. He took a deep breath, steadied himself as he made his way across the school’s campus and out to his car. Gosh, it was a stunning campus and the fall just made it all so bright and so beautiful. He stuck his hands deeper into his jacket and picked up his pace. The tree-lined street where he’d parked his old silver Honda was unusually quiet, which he was grateful for, just to have some time alone with his thoughts. What will this be like for me? He took stock in what he knew so far.
His name is Edward Smithson. He’s 38 years old. He wants to meet Mike. He never wanted to give Mike up. His mother’s name is Denise Cole, but Edward Smithson has no idea where she is. This is some of what Mike learned from the brief email he got from him, before their meeting. Mike hasn’t been able to find a trace of her whereabouts. This was only half the battle, he thought. This meeting will at least give me some direction and some answers.
When he gets to the car and jumps in, he blows into his fisted hands to warm them up. The temperature is dropping, the way it tends to do in the fall evenings. He starts the car, careful to back up and go forward a few times to pull out of the tight parking spot he is in. He drives a couple of blocks and takes the ramp onto the expressway, which never seemed as foreboding a road, as it does right now. Once I head into this, there is no turning back, he repeated to himself. He concentrated on the way his tires took to the curves in the road and how the seat felt on his back and neck, to avoid the more daunting questions circling his mind.
Once he had a name in hand and started communicating with Edward Smithson, a product designer for retail companies from up north, he shared the news with Elizabeth and his parents. “His name is Edward Smithson. He’s 38 years old.” It didn’t sound all that exciting to say the man’s name aloud, but it was a relief. Once they all knew, then he would be okay building some sort of relationship with him. Elizabeth and his parents were genuinely happy for Mike. It was what he needed to go forward in his venture and it helped to know the people he loved most were behind him in his quest.
It wasn’t a long drive and before he had a chance to regret all this and turn around, he was there. He pulled into their agreed upon meeting place – a pub style restaurant midway between both their homes. I can’t believe he has been this close all this time. This is ridiculous!
When he walked into the pub, his eyes quickly adjusted to the large, dimmed space. A couple was sitting in the first booth. At a table toward the center, there was a small group of men laughing and talking. By the bar, there was a bored looking bartender who wiped the counter sliding left to right with a white towel. Toward the back, a half-moon table sat inwardly in the curve of a cushioned semi-circle of seating. On the table there was a bottle of
He walked slowly toward the back. With each step, the sticky pub floor creaked. Edward Smithson was looking toward the bar, at first, but then he turned and saw Mike coming toward him. A jagged, pained smiled crossed his lips and he stood up and out from his seat. He’s so tall! The closer Mike got to the man, the more he saw himself - the freckled temples and the green, striking eyes. And when he stretched out a hand to Edward Smithson, the man grabbed his in a way that Mike felt was the equivalent of a deeply warm hug. He gestured for Mike to take a seat and then he sat back down, too. The first few minutes were awkward, silent, and uncomfortable.
A young woman in black jeans and a black T-Shirt, with a tiny white apron tied behind her back approached the men. She asked Mike for his drink order, and then dropped a couple of small menus onto the table for them. He asked her for a coffee and she walked away. “You’re tall,” Edward Smithson said to Mike. “So are you,” he responded. It was the icebreaker they needed.
The men ordered burgers and French fries and Mike noticed that Edward was right-handed. Dusk came in the early afternoon, the sun a dark, rich orange ball laying low in a distant horizon. They realized they had been talking for hours. Edward Smithson was generous with information and Mike was grateful. He let Mike ask him anything and what he could answer, he did. What he couldn’t answer, he promised to try to find out. The subject of Denise Cole was the most difficult for them to tackle.
“It is such an old tale, Mike. It is the same kind of bullshit that has happened to teenagers for all eternity. Boy meets girl. Boy gets girl pregnant. Girl’s parents hit the roof. Everyone condemns her. Only difference when you were born is that it was that it was 1988, not 1958 and so her father didn’t come at me with a gun and a preacher, not that I wouldn’t have taken that path, if it had been presented to me. My mother was alone, widowed for close to 12 years. This was exactly what she didn’t need in her life. She didn’t handle it well. I think her response was mostly ‘Do what you think is best’. I didn’t have anyone to turn to for the right answers to the hard questions. I went to Denise and asked her what she wanted to do. She told me her parents already told her what she had to do.”
Mike looked down at his coffee mug. “Abortion?” he asked. He looked up and Edward Smithson was shaking his head. “God no! No, her parents were ‘religious’” He made air quotes when he said this, and then waved at the waitress and pointed to Mike's coffee, so he could get the same thing. “No, they wouldn’t think of abortion. But they did think it was okay to make Denise disappear, right along with her shame. They must have put the fear of God in that girl because, no matter what I said, she wouldn’t tell me what was going to happen. Mr. Cole was big in the community at the time – a local politician. He was a real talker and charmer. His only daughter getting pregnant? That was unacceptable. What a way to tarnish HIS reputation. Denise was gone before she started to show. Even her girlfriends had no idea where she was. I got tired of knocking on the door at the Cole house and asking their maid about her. I stopped because the last time, I think her dad was ready to kill me.”
Mike cut him off. “What happened to Denise?” Edward Smithson didn’t answer him for a second, and then added, “I want you to know that I loved Denise with all my heart. You were conceived in love. But she was just 16 and I was about to turn 18 and there was just no way we’d have been able to give you a decent life. I’m so sorry, Mike," he said. Edward leaned back then, he looked about ready to cry, his eyes red and teary. Mike looked away. This was hard enough without Edward starting to get emotional on him.
Edward got his bearings and went on. "After Denise disappeared, I just, I tried to go on with my life, you know? I did it for myself and for my mother and because I couldn’t keep punishing myself forever. A year or so after she went away, I saw her in a department store in town. I was away at college by then, but I was back visiting my mom. I ran up to her and grabbed her arm. She shook me off like she had never seen me before. Her eyes were icy. She looked different. Her innocence and sweetness was gone. It was like she stabbed me. When I asked her what happened with the baby, she said ‘I had a boy. I had to give him away’. Then she walked away and that was the last I saw of her. I guess I could have chased her down and forced her to tell me, but her face...I don't know it was the same thing as having someone slam a door in your face. I didn't feel like I could say another word to her.” Mike nodded, so Edward could see he understood and wouldn't feel as bad as he looked.
Mike told Edward a little about his life, how he had been raised, how good Cindy and Brian were, what he was studying in school and how much he loved Elizabeth. Then he and Edward paid the bill and walked out into the dark night. “Where did you live?” Mike asked. “We lived here, in this town. I came back after graduation. I was offered a job designing products for retails stores – you know like fixtures, signs, display cabinets and things like that. The house where her parents lived was sold before I came back. Old Talk Shit Cole talked himself into insurmountable debt and foreclosed on the house. Karma's a bitch, ain't it?" Mike laughed.
"Anyway...No one around here had any answers. For a long time I hated Denise for making the decision to give you away without asking me, but I got to tell you I never signed anything. I never gave consent to give you up. I want you to know that.” Edward leaned against his car, a dark blue SUV with tinted windows and a tiny disco ball hanging from the rear view mirror. Mike came around and leaned next to him. The two men looked out toward the road. Mike felt like it was symbolic, the two of them looking down the same road. It felt like they were going to go into that road together and it felt good.
“I’m prepared to keep looking for her", he said to Edward. "You gave me a lot of answers, but there’s still more I need to ask”. Edward nodded. “I know that, son.” Mike flinched. He called him son. It sounded foreign to him coming from this stranger, but also right. It felt right and Mike was a little scared by that fact. Brian would always be his dad, even if this man next to him standing in the crisp fall night was his father. He would not lose sight of that, ever. And if he ever did find Denise, he would make sure that Cindy was always right there, his Mom, never replaced by anyone.
“Okay, then, Edward. How would you like to leave this, then? Can I call you…email, maybe?” Edward stared up into the starry night sky. “Man, I hope so. I don’t want to think that now that I know who you are, you’re going to disappear again. I can’t do that.” Mike nodded, hearing the sincerity in Edward's voice loud and clear. He was happy with Edward's answer. “Listen,” Edward said,” I’ll even help you look for Denise. You know I never stopped caring about her. I don't think what happened was entirely her fault, either. I told you, she was just 16 years old. She was a kid and kids sometimes do what their parents say, even when they know it is the wrong thing.”
“Did you ever get married?” Mike asked him. “Yeah, I got married. I’m together with my wife about 15 years now. Oh, FYI...You have a half sister and a half brother, but they’re small yet.” Mike was taken aback. “Whoa! That’s some heavy shit. I have a brother and a sister? All this time I’ve been an only child. This is weird.” Edward smiled. “Yeah, I hope that um…that you’ll come to be a part of their lives one day. They're still too little for full disclosure, but you know one day they won't be. Just so you know, I told my wife all about you. She knew when we married that there was a son out there and that maybe, one day, this day would come. She is fine with it. She is great. You’re going to love her.”
Mike laughed. “Hope so. And I think you’re going to love my parents. They’re great. And you know whatever way they came to adopt me, it isn’t their fault. They didn’t go into it with a malicious heart. They were caught up in the whole mess and ended up with me, which I personally think is a great thing…for them!” Edward laughed out loud and patted Mike on the shoulder once. “You’re funny! I agree! They sure as hell got a great deal.”
As the men said their good-byes, making plans for a future they both hoped would include finding Denise; they felt a new and welcome connection. They agreed to meet again next week at the same pub. There was still a lot to catch up on...21 years' worth of stuff.
Edward walked to the driver’s side of his car. Before he got in, he took a deep breath, looked over at Mike one more time and spoke. “How do you like this weather, huh? Fall is my favorite of all the seasons!” Mike smiled. What a funny thing to inherit. Who knew you could find a similarity that wasn’t visible to the eyes, or talked about in conversation. It was an undeniable link, he thought. The start of many!
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