The Little, Wooden Carving

After it happened a family was never the same. A father finds comfort in whiskey and small wooden figurine as three sons want nothing more than to help their father be happy again.

“I give up!” said Joe. “Every bottle’s gone and yet he’s still f*****g drunk, Lyndon!”

Lyndon stood speechless in front of his brothers trying to reason with them. He was always apt to protect him and he cringed at the idea of being “daddy’s little guard dog”. He stood in front their father’s door and although they spent many nights screaming, they all cared for the drunken man on the other side. They wanted nothing more than just his happiness. But Lyndon was never passive and was always active in trying to make his father happy again. He was kindhearted and was never far from home. College was only a few miles away and his apartment was located close enough to be with his parents every other weekend. Lyndon loved his family and his kind heart often made him appear weak and fragile.

“Get out of the way, Lyndon!” screamed Joe.“He needs f*****g wake up call!” he said. “He needs to get a grip of his life, and you standing there protecting him won’t do s**t!”

Joe wanted nothing more than just to barge in and tell his father that he was worthless and weak- that he loved his father enough to hate what he is now. As the oldest, he was expected to be the leader, and he often took charge whenever he feels accountable. In many way he was like his father. He admired his father’s strength, his determination, and his perseverance- something he now sees less of. Ever since it happened he can’t come to terms with his own emotions. He refuses to believe that the man he aspired to became imperfect and broken. Unlike his brothers, he cries when no one's looking.

Shane was always the happy one, and he never knew what to do at times like these. He remembered that, before it happened, he used to laugh during Christmas and grin during birthdays. Shane remembered the contagious smile that his father would have on snowy mornings when the five of them would exchange gifts. Shane was the youngest and he was the one who had the least amount of money. His gifts would be handmade and carefully thought of, and he took joy in seeing the happiness that came from moments like those. He had a job now, and it seemed that crafting became less of a hobby, but, after it happened, his hand just moved on their own. He had one final gift for his father. It was small, but all the love and care that she gave him was in that little, wooden figurine.

In the morning, as Lyndon slept in the living room after a long night of guard duty, and as Joe had gone home to his fiance in a flat up north, Shane gave his father that small figurine. A small wooden angel that he no longer knew what to do with after he spent hours at the wood shop making it. He felt his father needed it more than he, and he thought it could brighten his day. He set it on the nightstand on his side of the bed and left. He had hoped that his father would see it and hold it for himself.

His father’s old hands couldn’t feel the same as they used to, and for a while he thought they had gone numb. Maybe he just couldn’t feel anymore. Maybe he didn’t want to feel anything else. It was after it happened that his hands started to slump and grow older, forgetting how it felt move his hands across something so beautiful and precious. His hands searched for something half past eight o’clock when he laid in bed crying. His hands would ball up as he grabbed the sheets beside him. His heart would collapse when, in the morning, they never found what they were looking for. But now, he holds what his son gave him. It fitted perfectly in his tired hands, and for the first time, in a long time, they felt calm.

For many days he felt as though he found a friend. He memorized every bump and texture of that wooden figurine, wondering how Shane managed to make it himself. Slowly, his hands felt again. They were no longer tense or angry, and often he held it near his heart when he fell asleep drunk and wasted. Needless to say, he took it with him wherever he went throughout the house and on his way to the liquor store around 4 p.m. For lunch and dinner, he would take the meals that Lyndon cooked out of the fridge and heat it up in the microwave. As he would wait for the monotonous beeping to go off, he would set the cheap bottle of whiskey next to the figurine on the small round table in the kitchen. He would eat his meals alone, but when he looked at his son’s gift, he didn't really mind.

Every day he went through this routine, but something little changed every time. The bottle became less empty and he would dump the rest down the drain when he felt no need to finish it. He spent less time looking at wall and spent more time looking at Shane's gift. Lyndon visited every day after classes and noticed things were a little different. He told Shane that their dad had taken a great interest in his gift and that he should come over to talk to him. So Shane did.

Shane never went to college and lived with his friend who worked at the same factory as he did. He didn't have a car mainly because he couldn't afford the expenses, but he knew his way around the city and the local transportation system. He took some time off work and spent days to go visit his father. Regularly, he would eat the microwaved meals with his father, which made Lyndon upset at first now that he had to cook for two. Later, Lyndon was happy to do so. Sometimes, all three of them would eat the microwaved meals together and joked about the radiation they could have been exposed to or how the electric bill was based solely on the microwave. Their father still bought drinks from the liquor store every 4 p.m- and every now and then he would drink himself to sleep- but now he truly felt that he wasn't alone. 

One day, he asked Shane for a peculiar favor. "Can you teach me how to make me one of these?" He asked as he held up the small wooden angel. Shane was surprised at his father's request mainly because he would have never thought that his father would take an interest in something like that. Shane was suddenly swept with emotion. Excitement and eagerness filled him as if it were Christmas all over again. Like a child showing his new toy to his daddy, Shane was enthused to teach him the basics. As broke as he was, he knew he couldn't afford the tools and materials, so he asked Lyndon for a "small" contribution of money. Lyndon sighed, but took out some out of his savings to get him and his father started. The next day Shane quit his job at the factory.

Weeks would pass and they both would loudly go through the house covered in sawdust and wood chips. Each project they worked on, they worked on meticulously, but when he was alone, his father would be cautiously working night after night on his workbench in their dimly lit garage. Carving, whittling, sanding, and sawing, he would produce small wooden figures day in and day out. His hands became calloused and his eyes grew more bags under them. For a time, he made simple objects and utensils that would wind up lying around the house waiting to be forgotten. Shane spent many days with his father and weeks and months went by, so he knew he couldn't stay for much longer. Nevertheless, Shane had been proud to have taught his father what he could. He was happy that his father no longer thought about it so much, and spent his 4 p.m's at home. He found a small paying job again and spent less days visiting, but not before he introduced his father to YouTube and tutorial videos. After a while, his father became more of an artist rather than a handyman. He began learning techniques well passed that of a novice. He learned to make textures, dynamic lines,  grooves, detailed etchings and carvings. His father's hands were strong again and had purpose. His hands moved with life and passion. they no longer looked for something. They rarely search for the bottle to grab. Instead they were thoughtful and sensitive. He remember what it felt like to feel soft textures and beautiful form.

No one had heard from Joe for almost a year and it was understandably so. He was one of the head architects at medium sized firm that was gaining some traction in the past year. After it happened, Joe wanted nothing more than to distract himself, so he dove deep into his work. He was addicted to it and he would return to his flat in the late hours of the night. His hands would not stop drawing and flipping through papers and documents. Only his fiance could calm them down and held them when he came home.

So, it came as a surprise to the three others when he called them to say that he was coming to visit. He said that he had important news and that it was urgent that he tell them all at the same time. So, Shane, Lyndon, and their father sat in the living room waiting for Joe that evening. After hours of waiting, they finally saw a black Lincoln pull up to the driveway. Joe made his way to the doorstep, but before he could even knock, Shane had already opened the door to greet his brother with a hug. Joe smiled and embraced his brother almost lifting him off the floor.

When they got settled in the living room, Lyndon poured everyone a drink, and Joe had insisted that he shouldn't because of his commute home. Shane patted his brother on the shoulder and pointed out that his old room was upstairs and this house used to his home. Joe laughed and smiled because he hadn't realized how much he missed his family. They heard a laugh that they haven't heard since it happened, but they couldn't think about that now. Laughing and joking like a family should, they came together. Joe commented on the wooden pieces and works laying all over the house, and Shane eagerly explained what he and their father had been doing for the past couple of months.Their father listened but solemnly spoke, but he felt at peace. He was glad to see his children together again when it had almost destroyed them. He misses the five of them sitting here laughing like this. He misses the time his hands were never hurt.

"So, what's the big news, brother dearest?" Shane asked.

"Well, brother dearest, as you know Melissa and I are engaged. It took us a while but we finally found the place and decided on the date to have it at. I mean, we don't have all the details down, but we just scheduled everything a couple days ago. I just wanted to let you guys know before anyone else."

"Wow, that's great, man!" Lyndon said . "Another toast then! To Joe and Melissa!"

"To Joe and Melissa!" everyone shouted except their father who looked oddly surprised and worried.

"Where will you get married?" promptly and assertively his father asked.

Hesitant, Joe replied, "Well, you see, that's the thing too-"

"Hurry up and just tell me boy!" his father yelled.

"At St. Bernard's Church down by the lake where you -"

"I  know where it is, boy! You don't have to tell me what happened there, and you sure as hell can't expect me to go back to that place!"

"Hey! What the hell is wrong with you? I thought you would be happy! I just thought that maybe-"

"Don't you dare raise your voice at me! This is my house and you decided to leave a long time ago!"

His father stood up picked the bottle threw it at the ground by Joe's feet nearly hitting him. Joe sprung out of his seat as he reached for his father's neck. Lyndon and Shane tried to hold Joe back but they couldn't stop him before he landed a clean shot on his father's chin. His father fell to the floor and everything seemed blurry.

"GET OUT, ALL OF YOU!" he screamed as he tried to get up.

Holding their brother back, Shane and Lyndon saw their father walking towards them. He started shoving them and pushing them, telling them to leave him. The house was filled with noise of screaming and breaking glass. It didn't take too long until their father started throwing the wooden figures that had been laying around the house.

The three brothers left the house and didn't speak a word. Joe sped off on his Lincoln while Shane went to sleep over Lyndon's apartment. Their father stayed home and poured himself another with the bottle he'd been keeping to himself. With every sip he his hands became tighter and tense. His thoughts went everywhere and he could do nothing but cry by himself without the comfort of his family. He knew that he had pushed them away, and he knew that there was nothing left to do.

He looked around many of the pieces that he thrown had broken. He took his drink and walked across the mess, headed to his bed where his hands began searching again, until he found the little wooden angel on his bed.

"I'm so sorry.." he said through his tears.

He threw his bottle against the wall and it shattered splashed all over the room. He couldn't do anything but feel sorry for what he had done. He did not know what to do, and he sat on his bed staring at the wooden figurine crying and gripping it in his hand tightly as he apologized to her over and over again.

Joe's wedding finally arrived and no one has heard from him since the fight. They all received invitations for the wedding and reception through the mail, but Joe had given up on the idea that his father was going to show up to that place. Deep down he understood why his father reacted the way he did, but he assumed that his reaction would have been of joy instead of anger. Nevertheless, he still understood his father. He still loved his father very much.

Shane and Lyndon both attempted to visit their the weeks before the wedding, but it was always met with screaming and anger. Eventually they stopped going, but understood why he was so angry. They knew that it would bother any kind man and that place would open up old wounds. Like their older brother, they still loved their father very much.

Shane and Lyndon bother showed up to the wedding, but as Joe surveyed the crowed, he noticed that his father wasn't in the seat that he had reserved for him. During the ceremony he kept expecting his father to show up in anytime, and he hated that he was distracted on the day he was supposed to marry the love of his life, the woman he was to cherish until death. This is why he understood his father.

At the reception, everyone had a lovely time. Shane and Lyndon were enjoying themselves and Joe and his new wife had already cut the cake and had their first dance. Still all three thought about him and wondered about his health and well being. In the middle of the festivities, when everyone has already had a drink or two one of the servants came up to Joe and said that there was a man waiting outside for him and that he had a gift to give him.

Joe was scared because he knew who the man was. He knew that his father was waiting outside, but he couldn't stand to hurt him again. He couldn't stand to remind him of what he lost. He went outside and there he was. He was wearing a tux and his hair was combed back. His face was clean shaven and he looked younger and happier. He was carrying a wrapped gifted with a red bow taped on it. It looked like a book, or a plaque of some sorts.

"Hey, dad." Joe greeted softly

"Hey kiddo." his father replied. "I know I don't deserve it, but I was just wondering if you'd forgive me for what I did."

"Dad, it's totally ok. It was my fault for springing it up on you."

"No no. I understand that you were trying to do something special for me. I am sorry that I reacted the way I did. It's just.." he paused.

"Look, dad. It's ok you don't have to explain"

"No, son. Im proud and honored that you married her there. She would have been so happy to see you.." he choked

His father began to cry again remembering it like it was yesterday. Joe went up to his father, and held him close. His father retracted and put his and hand his loving son's  shoulder and handed him his gift. It was heavy and you could feel the texture through the wrap.

"Open it" he insisted

As he peeled back the paper and ripped it to see, Joe began to cry his heart out. In his hands, he held a plaque of wood with his mother carved into it. She was smiling like he remembered, loving and caring.

His father held him close again and said "She would have been so happy for you, son."

Author's Note

This was my first ever short story. In fact, it's the first piece that i have ever published. I'm looking for some constructive criticism and tips to make it better. Please forgive me if there are any grammatical, structural, and organizational issues.

Thank you for reading

Reviews

[Bluebird91]

This was really good! And sad in some ways because it reminds me that my own father will not attend my wedding in the future. (Just a quick observation about a small part: and put his and hand his loving son's shoulder: I was a little confused on that part) but really good story! I am looking forward to reading more from you!