The GHOST and Charlie Dusenberry

PG.21 TGACD R. ZEIS

“Good morning! It’s time for your 6:40 AM check on sports. Last night in major league baseball the Texas Rangers dropped a 3-2 game in ten innings. The losing pitcher….”

Charlie reached over to slap the off button on his radio-alarm. “Another day, another dollar,” he murmured as he leaned over to kiss his wife on her cheek. Susan stirred and mumbled, “You can have the bathroom first.”

Charlie smiled. She said that every morning. It made sense that he get up first since he had to be at school before eight AM while Susan’s library job didn’t demand her presence until nine.

After stretching, Charlie swung his legs over the side of the bed and wiggled his toes in the short carpet. “The next part is the hardest part of the day,” he said to himself. Shaking off the sleep, Charlie stood up. “There you did it.”

He shuffled across the bedroom and into the bathroom. After turning on the light, Charlie let out one more yawn and peered at himself in the mirror. “You’re getting old,” he mumbled as he stared at the gray whiskers that seemed to grow more numerous every morning.

Reaching for his electric razor, Charlie took a deep breath. “What’s that?” he thought. It was a smell that instantly sent him back in time. Was that English Leather cologne he smelled? It was a scent that he hadn’t encountered since his dad had died. As a boy he used to watch his dad use a straight razor to scrape off his morning beard. Following that chore, his dad would reach for a dark-colored glass bottle with a round, wooden top. Spinning the top off, his dad would splash a generous amount of the cologne in his hands and then rub it into his cheeks and throat. The bathroom had filled with the strong masculine scent.

Strange how he thought he detected that scent this morning. Charlie took another deep breath but the scent was gone. Strange…

Part of the morning routine, after dressing, was Charlie’s trip to DD’s room. Waking up DD for school was no easy task. There were mornings when Charlie thought about tossing a hand grenade into the room and slamming the door quickly closed. But, that would probably only blow out the windows…DD would just go on sleeping.

“DD, time to wake up. You don’t want us to be late for school.”

PG. 22 TGACD R. ZEIS

As expected there was very little reaction from under the covers of DD’s bed. It might have been an optical illusion, but it did seem to Charlie that his son sank a little deeper into the mattress.

“DD, it’s time to get up!” Then for effect, Charlie added, “Now!”

DD’s voice surfaced from somewhere under the pile of blankets. “Dad, isn’t it Saturday yet?”

“Nope, it’s a Wednesday. But, you can look on the bright side…it’s over the hump day.”

“Awwww, “moaned DD. “It’s only Wednesday?”

Charlie couldn’t help smiling as he looked down on his eleven-year-old. “Yup, it’s only Wednesday. But it beats it being a Monday!”

That fact didn’t seem to cheer up the boy who seemed to sink even deeper into the bed’s mattress. Charlie was about to pull the covers off when suddenly DD sat straight up tossing the blankets aside. Charlie was so surprised by the sudden movement he jumped back a bit.

“Dad,” started DD now suddenly wide awake, “my baseball team needs your help. I need your help.”

Charlie stared down at his son. DD’s brown eyes stared back at his father. The color of his eyes came from Charlie’s side of the family, but the sandy-blond hair and shape of his son’s nose were all from Susan.

“Dad,” continued DD, “I was hoping we could have talked about this last night, but I didn’t know how to ask you.”

Charlie sat down on the bed and sighed. Last night after Susan had told him that DD had some sort of a problem with his team, neither he or DD brought up the subject at dinner or even later that evening. Now, Charlie was feeling guilty about it. He loved DD with every fiber of his soul and he should have found out what was bothering him.

“What’s up, son?”

The boy sat up straight and looked at his father for a long moment. Charlie could see DD was struggling with what to say. After a deep breath, DD said, “Dad, we need a manager for our baseball team.” The words started out slowly at first and then gushed out. “Coach Estrada has to move away and he doesn’t have an assistant coach and we don’t have a manager anymore and I was hoping maybe YOU could coach us?”

PG. 23 TGACD R. ZEIS

Without thinking, Charlie responded with a startled expression and a “ME?”

“Yes, Dad, you.”

Charlie stood up and walked over to the bedroom window. After opening the blinds a beautiful, sun-drenched day was revealed. Charlie stood quietly for a moment staring out the window. “DD, I know nothing about coaching a little league team. I’d be more of a hindrance than a help. Surely, there’s got to be a parent that can spare some time to help out.”

DD looked up at his father and shook his head from side to side. “No, Dad. I don’t think there is. Coach Estrada said the league will try to find someone, but we didn’t even have an assistant coach. What are the odds the league will find a new head coach?”

Not good, thought Charlie to himself. But he was not willing to share that thought. His son was staring up at him with pleading eyes making what he wanted to say very hard. He didn’t like baseball…he certainly didn’t know how to coach a team. The LAST thing he wanted to do was get involved with that sport. That’s what he wanted to say. But, he couldn’t do it. Something deep inside him was saying YES, and where that came from he didn’t have a clue.

So, against every fiber of his being, Charlie looked at his son and promised something he never thought he would. “DD, if the league doesn’t find someone or a parent doesn’t step up, I’ll do it for you.”

DD leaped out of bed, ran to his father and wrapped his arms around him in a death grip. “Thanks, Dad!”

Love swelled up inside of Charlie. The boy was so very precious. A familiar, yet strange voice deep down in his core rejoiced and seemed to say, “You did the right thing.” However, another larger part of his soul was screaming at him, “What have you done?”

The battle between the raging hate for baseball and the still, small voice continued inside Charlie Dusenberry even as his son refused to let go of his father.