Observations.

Tommy leaned against the fence watching his dad clear the branches.  Though he tried to feign disinterest, he wanted nothing more than for his dad to call out and ask for help, but he never would.  Not since the accident.  Especially now that he had Michael around to do all the heavy lifting.

As Tommy watched his dad struggle with a rather lop-sided load, his mind wandered back to that day in the backyard three years ago.  It had been a sunny summer day, toward the beginning of summer.  Tommy remembered because he'd just gotten a new skateboard for his 12th birthday, which was always the last week of school, and he was trying to figure out how to stay on it despite the gravel drive.  It was still early morning because Dad never worked out in the yard in the heat of the day; whenever it got too hot, that's when Dad made the inevitable observation, "That'll do for today.  Time for some R&R&B."  Tommy had thought that's how the phrase went until he tried to use it at school one day after a game of basketball at recess.  "That'll do for now, guys.  Let's head in for some R&R&B."  That earned him a number of confused looks, and it wasn't until he came home and reported to his mother what had happened that she enlightened him that the "B" was Dad's personal take on the motto and stood for the cold beer he indulged in around noon every Saturday.

Well, that Saturday, Dad was on the ladder repainting the second story windows, and Tommy was there to keep him company, make sure he didn't fall, and get him anything he might need while up there on the ladder.  Like most Saturdays, they'd waken up together - Tommy long before Mom and Beth- eaten over-cooked eggs and weak coffee, and headed to the hardware store.  Tommy relished these early morning drives to the hardware store because they were one of the only times he felt like Dad talked to him like an equal.  Sometimes Dad would have something on his mind and, once they got around the bend in the road, he'd start off, "Tommy, have you ever noticed the old beat up bike in the back of the garage?" and then he'd proceed to tell Tommy an unbelievable adventure from his childhood; Tommy was always amazed his dad didn't run out of stories from his youth.  And he could never picture Grandpa the way Dad described him - so strict and hard-working.  Now he was just a bald old man like any other old man, and he even gave Tommy sips of  beer when Mom wasn't around.

Or Dad might wait for Tommy to ask a question or share a concern.  No matter what the issue, Dad always took Tommy's questions seriously, like the first time Tommy told Dad about Daisy, the girl he'd had a crush on since the 4th grade.  Dad didn't laugh it off like Mom had; Dad didn't say, "Well aren't you a little young to have a crush?" or make any patronizing comment about 'puppy love.'  Dad had looked him straight in the eye and listened as Tommy explained how he felt when he was around her.  Then Dad said probably the best possible thing he could have said in response, "Tommy, I know exactly how you feel.  That's how I felt the first time I saw Emily."  Tommy knew all about Emily - how she was Dad's first girlfriend when they were young, how Dad stayed at her house after school because she had a babysitter and Dad's parents couldn't afford one.  How she'd broken up with him when high school started and it had broken Dad's heart.  Dad always knew what to say to validate Tommy's feelings, make him feel like a man.

This Saturday had started off like every Saturday as long back as Tommy could remember - breakfast with Dad, sneaking out of the house so as not to wake Mom and Beth, driving in the old Ford to the hardware store, chatting with Sam, the ornery old man who ran the store, and getting right to work on whatever project Dad had in mind; this specific day, it happened to be painting the upstairs windows.  Tommy knew that his Dad loved to paint; he liked the feeling of being on top of the ladder, being able to see miles of flat Oklahoma terrain on either side of him, to see the parts of the house no one normally noticed: the gutters, the roof shingles, the birds' nests which were nestled under the soffit.  Dad could work in silence for hours; he never skimped, always cared more about perfection than speed, and Tommy was quickly acquiring Dad's work ethic.  Dad had let Tommy paint the 1st floor windows, but he didn't want Tommy on the ladder, "Maybe next year," he'd said.  Tommy didn't mind, though.  To him, these Saturday mornings were more about spending time with Dad than getting work done on the house, not that he was a lazy worker - he was dedicated, if nothing else, just to please Dad, but the quality time with his Dad is really what got him out of bed every weekend of the summer.

So there he was, messing around in the driveway with his new board while Dad carefully lathered each pane in a layer of paint.  If he got low on paint, he'd call out to Tommy, "Son!  More paint up here!"  And Tommy would hop up to refill him.  When he needed a drink, Tommy had an ice water, or a cold lemonade at the ready.

After he finished one layer of olive green, he came down and had a snack with Tommy on the picnic table.  Mom had just cut up a fresh watermelon, and there should be cookies later that morning.  They'd talked about what their next project should be: tearing out the walls in the attic or finally tackling the tiles in the kitchen that Mom had been complaining about for so many years?

It was nearing 11:00 when Dad got back on the ladder to apply the second layer of paint.  Dad always liked to have three layers of paint, just in case, and Tommy knew this well.  Tommy also knew that Dad never worked after 12:00 p.m. and that it had taken about an hour to apply the first coat.  Tommy had hoped that Dad might speed up a little, cut a few corners, not paint the undersides of the windows' lips with such precision - there was so much to be said for starting and completing a job all in one day.  Such a feeling of accomplishment!  But Dad took his time, steady as ever, and the minutes of mid-morning kept passing by.  11:14, Dad had finished one of 5.  11:27 - finishing touches on number two.  11:41 - window number three was complete.  Dad looked at his watch and tackled window 4, which happened to be Beth's room.  Dad took extra care sanding off the old paint, cleaning the window and taping it off tightly.  He painted the left panel, then the right panel... the top of the window and the ledge underneath.  When he was finished, he wiped his forehead with the hanker chief from his back pocket, looked at his watch, and started his careful descent down the ladder.  Tommy felt anxious -- it was already 12:01.  Would Dad sacrifice another fifteen or twenty minutes in the sun to finish the final window today?  Tommy silently pleaded him to do so.  He couldn't stand the thought of an incomplete job until next Saturday.  He watched as his Dad chugged the entire glass of water Mom'd brought out for him.  He licked his lips and said, "Well, that'll do for today.  Time for some R&R&B.  Come on, Tommy.  We'll finish'er up next weekend."

But Tommy couldn't stand it; the weight of that one naked window would weigh on him all week, keep him awake at night, and he knew he couldn't leave it.  He called after his Dad, "I'll be right in, just let me put the ladder away."  And as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew what he had to do.

He positioned the ladder directly under his parents' bedroom window, which was right in the center of the house, and he grabbed the bucket and brush.  He locked the ladder like Dad had taught him to, careful to jiggle the lock into place because he knew it was an old piece of junk and sometimes fell out.  He scurried up the ladder and began to strip the old paint, first with a scraper and then with a sander.  He pulled the brush out of his back pocket and began applying the dark lacquer, smooth and even, as Dad had taught him, but hurriedly.  Any minute, he knew his Dad would come looking for him and be none-too-happy to find he's disobeyed his orders and climbed up the ladder, even if it was just to finish a job-well-done for his Dad.

"Tommy?  You coming?" he heard echo from around the side of the house.

"Be right there, Dad!"

He quickly splashed the side panes with color, covered the top-most pane, and bent down to get the details around the ledge and soffit, as meticulously as his father did.  As he bent over, though, the ladder wobbled beneath him, and he felt himself sway from side to side.

"Steady," he thought to himself.  "You're almost done."

When he straightened back up, he heard the faulty clasp of the ladder 'click,' unlocking the security and unbalancing his stance.  As the ladder gave way beneath him, and Tommy's arms flung toward the ledge to grab on, the window he'd so carefully cleaned burst and he grabbed on to the jagged edges.  The ladder crashed to the ground beneath him, and, before he'd realized what had happened, Mom, Dad, and Beth were beneath him, yelling up, "Are you OK?"

Dad ran upstairs and pulled Tommy through the bedroom window, careful to grab his wrists instead of his bloody hands.  Tommy was already apologizing, in the midst of all the blood and chaos, he wailed, "I'm sorry, Dad, I'm sorry," but his Dad didn't acknowledge his pathetic whimpering, just pulled him out of the window sill and, eventually, to the emergency room.

The doctors were able to sew his hands back together, but they told Tommy's parents (never looking Tommy directly in the eye) that he would never regain the agility and fine-motor skills he once had.  And though he attended laborious physical rehabilitation, and squeezed and squeezed stress balls until his fingers blistered, he couldn't control a paint brush or use a chop stick again.

All these memories flooded Tommy's head as he observed Dad hauling wood to the side of the house, same blue jeans and white shirt that he'd worn every Saturday for the past 16 years.  And a jolt of jealousy stabbed him as he saw Beth's boyfriend, Michael, round the corner with another load of wood.

After the accident, Dad had routinely checked on Tommy in his room, brought him sandwiches Mom had prepared in the kitchen, and any Kool-Aid or soda that Tommy requested, but there was a subtle shift in their relationship.  The weekend following the accident, Dad didn't get Tommy out of bed to go to the hardware store on Saturday, understandably, because Tommy's hands were still wrapped in gauze, and he'd be no use in the yard, but Tommy felt hurt when he woke up and realized Dad had gone without him.  His dad didn't wake him up the following weekend, either, or any weekend after that.  A few times, Tommy had set his alarm and met Dad in the kitchen, hoping to ride along, but Dad always mumbled something about "working by myself today" or "Mom said she needed you around the house," and Tommy never pushed the topic.  He knew he'd disappointed Dad by breaking the rules and hurting himself.  He knew he'd have to build up Dad's trust again, but he didn't know how when Dad never gave him the opportunity.

And then Beth started dating Michael.  At first, Tommy liked Michael; Michael would hang around the house and chat with whoever was in the room.  He helped Mom carry in groceries, helped Tommy with his Algebra homework, and even lent a hand when Dad was working on projects outside.  Then he started showing up on the weekends - he'd arrive around 11:00, happen to see Dad working on something and offer to help.  It didn't take long before Dad invited Michael along to the hardware store with him one Saturday, and Michael had been riding along ever since - taking Tommy's seat in the truck, participating in what should have been Tommy's intimate conversations with his Dad, lending the strong, able hands that Tommy no longer had.  And this had been going on for an entire year, now.  Every Saturday, Michael showed up at the door, pounded Tommy's fist, as if they were allies, not enemies.  Sometimes he even brought Mom flowers!  What a dope.  Didn't he have a family of his own?  Why didn't he spend Saturdays with his own Dad?  Why did he have to come and ruin Tommy's chances of making amends to his father?  Of course, Tommy knew he was the one who had broken he and Dad's sacred bond to begin with, but it was so much easier to take his anger out on Michael, who wasn't even a member of the family.