For All in Tents and Porpoises

Sweet, he thought. It was a Saturday with all the time in the world and no phone calls or email to process or read through for at least one day. Martin was already in his backyard positioning the Adirondack chair so that it would not be too deep in the sunlight. A tall, cold and sweaty glass of Amstel Light was on the side table with extra bottle chilling in a small cooler by his feet, right next to his favourite summer reading (the New York Times Saturday Crossword Puzzle), a pot of yellow marigolds he managed to grow every year, and his loaded iPod Nano. Not a cloud was visible in the sky and he could not hear a single sound coming from his worst neighbour (seriously, what was the purpose of O’Leary and her stupid schnauzer? Better keep that mutt away from my annuals). It was a perfect day.

And he should have known something would change that.

“Hello!”

He looked around very quickly when he heard that voice. Did he forget to lock the gate?

Ah, Andrew…

“Hello. What are you doing here, kid?”

The boy was about five now. He could remember his nephew’s birthday enough to send him a card with some change in it around late autumn (September? October?). And they did live in the same city (savings on postage was a nice thought and quite important).

“Mom said that I could stay here while she went shopping.”

It was a thing of beauty to see him stand up, run past the screen door where the little boy stood with his backpack, and see him make it to the front door just as his sister’s car spat gravel out of the driveway and left him standing with his hat in hand. And did she give him the middle finger in her rearview mirror?

He turned back and saw that Andrew was right behind him.

“She said that she had to take a ‘me-day’.”

“Right.” He walked past his nephew to the kitchen. “Me-day.”

“Yeah. Not sure if I understand why.”

“Me-day. Today.”

“Yeah. That’s a rhyme. You’re good, Uncle Mart.”

No, no kid. I am very bad, he thought. He hated it when his nephew called him Uncle Mart (he hated anyone who called him that, especially clients who jumped ahead in their business relationship).

So, no Me-day.

“What do you think that means?”

“What’s that, kiddo?” He looked in the fridge to see if he had anything for his nephew. He needed a day of shopping, too.

“A ‘Me-day’?”

“Oh, well, she just wanted to be alone for a while. Sometimes my sister, your mom, just needed to be on her own.” He paused, looking down at the face of his nephew who stared straight at him without blinking. “Nothing to do with you, of course. She just wanted a break.”

“A break…from me?”

“No, no kid. From…being an adult or from being a mom and…”

“And me?”

He knew he was flailing and wondered why he had not bought more beer for the week.

“No, no. Look, are you thirsty or something?”

Andrew put his bag on the couch and smiled. “Got Kool-Aid?”

“Gatorade?”

“Okay.”

He was really going to let his sister have it when she came back from whatever trip she was on (maybe he should be thinking “if she came back”). At least the Gatorade was fruit punch.

“What’re you doing today?”

It was a good question for a five-year-old. What was he doing with himself on a Saturday when he was supposed to be totally free?

“Nothing.”

“Nothing, Uncle Mart?”

“Not one single thing.”

The boy looked carefully at his uncle before he spoke.

“Seems like you are lonely.”

He did not say anything for a moment. Loneliness was a disease he had not felt since his last girlfriend left him in the middle of a Tim Hortons with a double-double and a promise to never speak to him again “if was not willing to grow up soon.”

“Not sure that’s it. I like being on my own, kid.”

“Okay. But doncha need friends?”

This was getting personal. Was the kid being sarcastic or just clever for his age?

“One day, I’ll find some. But for now, I’m okay.”

“Okay…”

He found some glasses and put them on the counter. He had forgotten about the flowers there. It was nice to see the African and French marigolds in bloom there. He would move them to the living room with the other plants so that there would be more colour in that space.

No, he was just a curious kid; maybe even nice for his age? He was going to be in trouble when he got older.

“Uncle Martin?”

“Hmm?” He was still considering the drinks (last of the Amstel was outside).

“What’s this?”

Oh, oh, oh…he forgot about this. There were papers on the kitchen table and he had not yet told his sister what was happening. A lot of money was going to pass through different hands and he did not want to leave any of the paperwork until Monday. But that was a Sunday plan, not something that he wanted to worry about on his “Me-day”. He walked to the table with the bottle and potted flowers.

“Lots of numbers…”

“Oh, be careful…”

He saw his nephew looking very carefully at a set of legal papers that he could barely bring himself to care about or study too deeply. It was all standard material, but…

“For all in tents…and porpoises?”

Martin laughed out loud and almost dropped the Gatorade and plant.

“Intents and purposes, kid.”

“Oh, what did I say?”

“Oh, well, you said…”

At that moment, he thought carefully about what the rest of the afternoon was going to be like. He had a young boy he did not know very well staying in his place (not well enough to really understand what Andrew wanted from his only uncle). He put the flowers and pitcher down and looked at his nephew. He had to grab a glass and consider what to do with him. He was a nice kid. He was going to be here for a while. And the kid was curious.

“Y’know what? I will show you what I’ve been doing.”

He went to the cupboard, got two glasses, came back to the kitchen table and picked up his nephew and set him on his lap as he looked at the document.

“Now this is what it is all about… ‘The potty of the first pot and the potty of the second pot will henceforth commence to…’”

“Potty?”

“Yeah, that’s what it says.”

Andrew stared at the page. “No, it doesn’t!”

“Hey, you think that I would lie to you? This is serious stuff.”

His nephew giggled.

“And then it continues with… 'Snoopy and Sons will guarantee-shirt that Charlie Brown and Bros. will receive the aforehead promised amount of ten jillion dollars…’”

“Uncle Mart…”

“‘…to be paid in full by cash or chicken’.”

That went on for the rest of the afternoon. Martin wondered what his sister thought of the scene when she came back through the open front door and saw her son laughing at a legal document that she would not ever be tempted to read. It did not even spoil his time off, she thought. He actually enjoyed his time with a nephew he barely acknowledged until Christmas came along and they shared an awkward dinner.

Strange man…

At least he managed to put some flowers in here (he needed some colour in the place). Maybe that O’Leary lady and her dog would like some, she thought. They were too nice to leave out of the sun.