Juice boxes, soda, and beer stocked ice-filled tubs. Disposable silver serving trays displayed heavy appetizers. The full dessert table promised skyrocketed blood sugars. A game table stood ready for action. He crossed his fingers there would be no broken bones or ruined carpet this year.
“Are you ever going to settle down and get married?” his father asked. “Generally marriage comes before retirement, but there’s no law saying it’s too late, you know.”
“Haven’t found the right person yet.” Cal’s mother had predicted no other woman would be able to keep up with him. She once tried a leash when he was four years old, but stopped when he wrapped it one too many times around a parking meter.
“I thought you and Leslie would be hitched by now,” his father said. “But I’m glad you’re not. I wouldn’t have said this while you were still seeing her, but she wasn’t right for you. Not enough up here.” He poked his skull with a gnarly finger.
“She had a PhD in history,” Cal said. “We simply didn’t work out.”
“PhDs do not make up for a lack of common sense.” Cal’s father shifted on the cushion. “Did the breakup with Leslie motivate you to retire and travel?”
“Sure,” Cal said, comfortable with his lack of transparency. His father would see the real motivation as mollycoddling. The breakup might have played some small part in Cal’s decision, but mainly he would retire at the end of the school year to be his father’s travel surrogate.
“Whatever floats your boat, Cal.” His father sighed. “I have to say, I’m looking forward to your trip. It’s about time you got to see the world.”
Cal smiled. He had no strong desire to see the world beyond the amazing places and people he encountered every day. But when he was younger, his father had expressed a yearning to travel. The one time he had been out of the country was during the war. Cal’s mother died young, and his father single-parented Cal and his sister through their teen years. By the time Cal Sr. retired in his mid seventies, the urge to travel gave way to a string of health issues. Over the past twenty years, he slowly wound down to be the tired, aged man who sat in his favorite worn out chair most of the day.
Though his father seemed good today, some days his moods were darker than Cal had ever witnessed. The decision to retire and travel was based solely on wanting to give his father something to look forward to—calls, photos, letters, emails. They were learning together how to Zoom. Cal would do anything to make his father’s last days, however many there were, the best they could be. Teaching again could come later, after his father was gone.
The outside door opened. “Good afternoon, Mister Forster and Mister Forster,” Cal’s best friend, Rudy, sang out. “Are we ready for a love-fest here?” A young woman clung to his arm. Her smile dazzled, and she looked to be about eighteen.
“Looks like you are,” Cal’s father said under his breath.
Cal’s sister, Heidi, entered before the door closed behind Rudy and his date. Heidi moved toward the couch as Cal stood. They embraced briefly before she sat down beside their father. Cal moved to the door to greet Rudy and the young woman as they shed their coats.
While Rudy went to hang their coats in the closet, Cal stepped over to escort the young woman the rest of the way into the room.
“Hi,” Cal’s father said, his tone provocative, flirtatious.
Inwardly, Cal groaned. Knowing his father mimicked Rudy for Cal’s benefit, he made introductions before his father could continue. “Welcome. I’m Cal and this is my father, Callum Sr., and my sister, Heidi.”
“Nice to meet you Callum Sr., Heidi.” The young woman shook their hands as she greeted them, then, giggling, turned to Cal. “Don’t you recognize me, Mister Forster? I’m Rochelle. Rochelle Robertson? I had you for English when I was a senior. It’s been a long time, six years. I lost a lot of weight, and my hair is long now.” She blushed.
“Rochelle Robertson?” Cal said. “Of course I remember you. You wrote a lovely essay on the loss of your cat. I cried when I graded it.”
Rochelle smiled and teared up. “He was one of the family.”
Cal smiled, too. He had never expected to see her again, one of those above-average students who sailed through his life and dropped off the horizon for lands unknown, at least to him. “What are you up to these days, Rochelle?”
“I finished my BSN, and I work at the Cleveland Clinic. Right now I’m a floor nurse, but someday I want to be a nurse practitioner. You always said, ‘Achieve your current goal, and it opens the door to the next one.’”
Sometimes they listened.
Rudy rejoined them. “What did I miss?”
Cal eyed Rochelle, looked at Rudy, and returned his gaze to the young woman. He had to ask. “What are you doing with this guy, Rochelle? He’s old enough to be your grandfather.”
“I am not!” Rudy said.
Rochelle giggled again. “Rudy is my mom’s old boyfriend. He agreed to give Mom a lower price on new carpet for her living room if I came with him today. He’s like a second dad.” She punched Rudy’s arm and smiled at him.
“Thank God,” Heidi muttered.
“You weren’t supposed to tell!” Rudy play-punched Rochelle back. “But it’s true, and you wouldn’t have known”—he looked at Cal—“if she weren’t such a blabbermouth. I wanted to have a stunning date for my friend’s party.”
“You think I’m stunning?” Rochelle blushed again. “Thanks, Rudy.”
“What a relief!” Cal’s father said. “I thought we might have to call Children’s Services.” He hoisted himself off the couch and walked toward the restroom. “I gotta talk to a man about a horse.”
The community room door burst open. Heidi’s oldest daughter stumbled into the room, flanked by two of Cal’s great-nieces. The children ran and threw their arms around Cal’s legs, the three of them almost toppling over, but Cal managed to catch himself, regain his footing, and bend his knees enough to remain stable and in an upright position.
His two nieces’ children possessed proper names, but to their mothers’ dismay, Cal called the children Sweaty, Sweetie, Grimy, Blimey, Tooter, Scooter, and Hell-oh!
Scooter and Hell-oh! held on for dear life as Cal tried to shake them off, one leg at a time. “Help!” he cried out. “I’ve been attacked by ferocious alligators!”
The two preschoolers giggled and held on tighter.
And so the party commenced with the arrival of Heidi’s second daughter, both sons-in-law, the rest of the great nieces and nephews, thirty-one additional guests, more plates of food, and a lap dog—courtesy of one of Cal’s colleagues—that yipped the entire time.
Everyone engaged in the four organized games. There were prizes for all. Laughter drowned out the barking for the most part. Tears were limited to one incident, when Hell-Oh! ran into Sweetie, but after five minutes of ice packs, both were off their parents’ laps and back in the fray.
Toward the end of the party, during the first lull in the non-stop action, Heidi put her arm around Cal. “You outdid yourself this year.”
Cal hugged her back with one arm. “Wouldn’t be much of a party without your family. Thanks for having great kids and greater grandkids.”
“They do love their Uncle Cal,” she said.
“I love them, too.” Up to this point, in addition to being the teacher students sought for solace and support, Cal’s entire life had revolved around bringing as much joy to his family as he could manage. He was a lucky man indeed.
