On the way home, Marty was pensive. That surprised Henry. His Little Bird had been the sensation of the evening. He had been hugged and kissed by more ladies and had his hair tousled by more men than most kids have in a lifetime. As Marty grew older, his Marty Moments had also matured but they could still be pretty animated. This should have been a major Marty Moment.
"I'm so proud of you, Little Bird. Aren't you happy?"
"Ya, but I'm thinking."
"You want to talk about it?"
"Do you think my Dad would have been proud of me? I love you a lot but I think I kinda love my dad too. Are you mad at me?"
"Of course not. You should love your father. Any father would have been very proud. You sing beautifully."
"I can't tell if I really love him or not. It's not the same kind of love. You really, really, really love me back. He couldn't love me back. Sometimes I think he tried but he loved beer more. You can't really love right if you're drunk.
"I'm not sure if I love him or if I feel sorry for him. I should be mad at him but I can't. I just feel sorry for him or maybe love him - it's hard to tell which one. He wasn't the boss of his life. Beer was."
"How old did you say you were. Are you 70? Sometimes you see things more clearly than I do. You never cease to amaze me, Little Bird. You're very intelligent but you also have a good forgiving heart."
"Ya, I know. Billy Butler's mom hugged me tonight and told me she was sorry for saying I stinked. - That's not right. What's the word for used to stink?"
"Stunk."
"Makes sense. Sounds like skunk.
"Anyway, she said she was sorry and I said, "That's all right. I forgive you."
"You were wonderful tonight, Little Bird."
"I know. Everybody said so but I need to talk about my dad right now. Can I get a job?"
"A job? Why do you want a job."
"I want to buy my dad a Christmas Present."
"But I give you an allowance. I know that you have saved some of that."
"If I used that money it would be like you giving him a present, not me. I want to give him a present from money I earned from working."
"What do you want to give him?"
"I don't know. Can you take me to Dort Street so I can ask him what he wants?"
"Little Bird, your dad is not on Dort Street anymore."
There was mild alarm in Marty's voice. "Where is he?"
"He's in a hospital in Milwaukee. You never talked about your dad so I never brought it up. The hospital he's in tries to help people who are addicted. Do you know what that means?"
"Kinda. It's like beer is your boss, right."
"That's right, Little Bird. I had Uncle Jerry take your dad to Milwaukee to see if we could help him become boss of his life again."
Marty was quiet for several minutes. "You're paying for it, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Why? You didn't even know about him until I came and he was a - - a mess, I guess."
"Because he's your father. Anyone who could father a boy as wonderful as you are, had to have a lot of good in him. And - I guess because he is a human being who needed help."
"You're rich, aren't you?"
"I have quite a bit of money." This was not the time to tell Marty that he was also very rich.
"You know what? Even if you weren't rich, you would have tried to help my dad because you are really, really, really good."
"For a long time after your Aunt Annie died, I wasn't any good at all. If I'm good now it's because I have a really, really, really, really, really good Little Bird."
"You're really, really, really, really silly. Really, really, really, really is a kid thing to say but I love you, Uncle Henry.
"So - can I get a job? I could ask Uncle Reind.
"Hey - you just passed the house."
"I know. I thought we could talk better if we didn't interrupt our conversation."
"Oh, ya. Can I?"
"I'll tell you what. There is some work that needs done in the horse barn. Some of it I think you're big enough to do. The mangers need to be cleaned out and I noticed that there are some boards and other scrap lumber in some of the stalls. Reind had some men in there a few winters ago building calf hutches. You can clean that out and I'll pay you for it."
"How come that horse barn's so big?"
"Most of it is an inside training track."
"I know that. Me and Larry - - I mean Larry and I ride around that track sometime. But there are about a thousand stalls in there. How many bellboys are you going to get?"
"Belgians. You haven't done that for a long time."
"I haven't felt like teasing you for a long time."
"You did that on purpose? You little rascal. Just wait until I get you home."
"If you don't let me go to the bathroom before you start tickling me, I'll pee on you. I gotta' go really bad."
It was a dark country road and Marty had gotten used to the fact that, in the country, if you had to pee, you didn't necessarily need a bathroom. Henry stopped the car. Marty got out and took care of business.
"So - why are there so many stalls?"
"I really, really, really ---"
"OK, Uncle Henry. Stop teasing me and tell me why there are so many stalls.
"I like horses and it takes a lot of mothers and fathers to be sure you get foals that will make good show horses."
"You mean dams and sires. I ain't a baby no more, you know."
"Marty!"
"If you can tease me, I can tease you."
"Fair enough. Where did you hear the words dams and sires?"
Uncle Reind told LARRY AND ME. There, are you satisfied?"
"You are begging for a good tickling, aren't you? And I don't even have to worry about getting peed on."
Henry called the hospital to inquire into Mart's needs. He was told that things were not good. The delirium tremors were no longer as frequent but the cirrhosis damage was too great. His liver was in the process of shutting down. He moved in and out of reality. He stayed in bed most of the time and when he did get up, he never dressed in street clothes. He wore his pajamas and a robe. He had fallen a few times because he couldn't keep his feet in the hospital issue scuff slippers and had tripped. Maybe a good pair of shoe-like slippers.
They had less that two weeks before their Hawaii trip and they had their "family" Christmas the Saturday before they left. So that left only the coming weekend for the trip to Milwaukee. That really didn't give Marty much time to earn his money. Henry convinced the Little Bird to "borrow" the money and do the work after Christmas.
Marty picked out the slippers he thought his dad would like. The boy was obviously nervous on the way to the hospital. "Will he be drunk, Uncle Henry?"
"No, he can't get beer in the hospital."
"If he could get some money he could go out and buy some."
"He can't get out of the hospital."
"Is he in jail?"
"No but the hospital that is trying to help him wants to make sure he can't get beer. He can walk around the hospital but he can't get outside."
Marty clung tightly to Henry's hand as they were led down the hall. Marty gasped when he saw the emaciated, trembling body lying on the bed. Tears ran down the boy's cheeks. Marty assumed that Mart was cold and, as he had done often, he moved to cover the man. "Daddy."
Mart turned and studied the boy for several seconds. "Auty?"
"Marty."
"Marty, you need to go find Auty. He didn't come home from school."
"Somebody took Auty, Daddy."
"Oh, ya - They took the baby too, didn't they?"
Henry smiled. So that's where "oh, ya" came from.
"Marty, can you get me a beer. I don't feel good and I can't get up."
"You can't have any more beer, Daddy. You're in a hospital and they don't have beer here."
"Hospital?"
"Daddy, I brought you a Christmas present."
"Christmas present?"
Mart sat up and saw Henry. Things seemed to come into focus for him a bit. "Dr. Schmidt?"
"Yes, Mart. Not feeling so good?"
"Did you bring Marty?"
"Yes."
"Will you see that someone takes care of him? I never did a good job with him and now I'm too sick."
"Marty's being well taken care of."
"Will you tell him that I'm sorry? I meant to quit drinking and take better care of him but I'm too sick now. Tell him I'm sorry."
"Marty's here, Mart, you tell him."
Mart again was moving in and out of reality for weeks now. When Marty stepped back into his view now, however, he knew where he was and he remembered. He had known that he was neglecting the boy and always intended to stop drinking and do better. But the bottle was too much for him. He'd drink a few beers and realize his weakness - and then he'd drink much more to forget. He sobbed. "I'm sorry, Marty. I'm so sorry."
Marty couldn't think of anything to say. He certainly wasn't going to say, "That's OK. I forgive you." because it wasn't OK and someone who had done to Marty what Mart had done couldn't be forgiven by a ten-year-old. He thought that if God was what Uncle Henry had been saying He was, God could forgive his dad if He wanted to. Marty did not feel hate or anger. He just knew that for what had been done to him, a ten-year-old kid didn't have either the right or the power to forgive.
Marty hugged Mart and handed him the gift. Mart again seemed to slip back into oblivion. He stared blankly at the brightly wrapped box. As had happened many times before, Marty did for him what Mart did not have the acuity to do for himself. He opened the present and Mart, still in some distant stupor, looked at them questioningly and then stared blankly at the floor.
Marty kissed the man on the cheek and said, good bye, Daddy. Try to have a merry Christmas."
Mart looked up at Henry. Dr. Schmidt, don't forget to tell Marty I'm sorry."
"I'll tell him, Mart. Good bye."
As Marty and Henry started out the door Mart called after them, "You forgot your slippers."
"Those are yours, Mart."
"Oh, ya."
It must have been ten miles before Marty said a word. "My dad's going to die, isn't he?"
"He's very sick, Marty."
"I hope he does. Is that bad?"
"It depends on why you hope that."
"Because he's so sick and so sad. I don't want him to have to be like that."
"That's not bad. It's not bad to want someone to stop suffering."
"He didn't know who I was all the time and he couldn't even remember that I was right there. How come he could remember Auty. When I was on Dort Street, I'd say something about Auty and he'd ask, 'Who's Auty?'"
"The mind does funny things. Now that he's not drinking, he remembers some things he couldn't when he was drunk."
"You know what? I really think he's sorry."
"I think he was too. How do you feel about that?"
"Good, I guess, but I couldn't say, 'I forgive you.' I'm not mad at him or nothing. It's just that for what he was and what he did, I don't think a boy can forgive that. God has to do that."
"You're right."
"I don't want to go back there anymore. I get too sad. Is that selfish?"
"No. You probably shouldn't go back. Visiting sick people is to cheer them up. Your dad is too sick to know you're there so you can't cheer him up. And, I think sometimes while you're there, he remembers that he was not a good dad and that makes him sad. It's just better if you do not go back."
"I'm glad I went this time though."
"Have you been worrying about your dad?"
"Kinda. I felt like I should be there to take care of him."
"Do you remember what Mr. Brainard said to David in his office about the problems that come when a child tries to do an adults job?"
"Yes."
"Well, if a boy your size tried to take care of a very sick man, it would have caused more problems. You could never have taken care of him as he is being taken care of now, Little Bird."
"Oh, ya. - - I like it when you call me Little Bird. I like to remember that sunset and the martins. When you call me that, it feels like love."
"It is love. Is it ever love!"