by RON DIONNE
The little tyke, so cute, curls into his father’s torso, delighted at the tickles, the communion of souls. All-consuming tenderness. The tickling is gentle, yet lush, forceful, yet not at all violent, the ferocious grasp of the hunter, yet coddling.
“Don’t wind him up, he has to go to bed,” the mother says.
The father relents and the tickles become simple hugs, the gasps of laughter now the contented breathing of one in concert with the other.
The suspenseful pause. Then: “I put them away,” the father says softly.
Hip, but game, the boy, who is five, says, “Them? What?”
“The elbows. From Venus.”
The boy grips the father’s elbows, which so recently had playfully pressed into his ribcage, delicious hilarity.
Softer still, almost whispering, the father says, “But watch out…”
The boy’s eyes widen as he looks up into his father’s face, knowing, but wanting wonder. They have played this game many, many times.
“…for…”
A giggle-gasp escapes and the boy covers his face with his arms, then his chest, then his tummy, not knowing where the attack will land.
“…knees… from… Neptune!”
Shrieks of laughter.
“Enough, Dan!” the mother says. Softening: “Don’t you think?” It is her night to read to the child at bedtime and the day has been long and lingering frustrations leave little room for goofing, in this, the setting sun moment. And the father, knowing, loving, relents.
“Sorry,” he says to her. The grasping of hands.
And to the boy: “Go with Mom.” The boy gives a heart-sized hug, with the whole world in it, and runs bedward – and the mother entwines mother fingers in father fingers, but just briefly. Beneath exasperation, she knows that once Battle Pajamas is won and snugness in bed attained there will be comfort later, without elbows–or knees. It is good enough, she sighs to herself, and she wonders if he knows and as she follows the boy up the stairs the father watches the twin centers of his life mount those stairs and feels the now familiar stirring deep inside, like crying.
–
Ron Dionne is an American currently living in London, England. His most recent stories can be found at The Muleskinner Journal, Die Laughing Literary Magazine, BULL lit mag, Wallstrait and Baltimore Review, among other places. His Blue Sky handle is @rondionne.bsky.social.
© Ron Dionne
Halfway Down the Stairs 