He didn’t like FaceTime as a rule, but under the circumstances…
“Hi Dad,” Robbie said.
“Hi Son, where are you?”
“At uni.”
As Robbie talked, Buddy watched the buildings of UVic slide by, bricks, glass, trees, lamp posts, other students rushing through the backdrop of their conversation. The electronic avatar of his son unnerved Buddy. It was Robbie’s soul siphoned out of him, disintegrated in the circuitry of a mobile phone, then beamed through the atmosphere as disembodied plasma to be reassembled in the device Buddy held in his palm. Was it really Robbie in there—the manipulated mirage of electrons behind the iPhone’s screen?
“Dad!”
“Oh! Sorry. Lost you for a second,” Buddy refocused. “Bad connection.”
“You okay?”
“I called to ask you that question.”
“Yeah. I’m alright. Sort of.”
“Look, Robbie, I know what Mum and I are going through must be upsetting for you and Gloria. We’ll sort things out. But, for now, I just want you two—and your mother—to know I love you and that everything will be okay once all the legal stuff is settled, eh?”
Robbie nodded doubtfully. “It’s not like a total surprise or anything,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Glory and me figured things weren’t all lovey-dovey between you and Mom a long time ago, Dad. We knew you were doing your best, but I—for one—have thought for a long time it might have been better for the two of you to split up.”
“And Glow?”
“She and I weren’t in the same place on that.”
“How long have you felt that way?”
“Dunno,” Robbie shrugged. “It’s sort of like a tire with a slow leak. When do you notice it, and how long has it been going flat, and how much farther can you drive before you have to fix it? Who can say?”
“Jeez,” Buddy sighed. “I’m sorry, Son. Sorry we put you two through that.”
“You and Mum have been great parents, Dad! Really!”
Buddy wanted to look the part, the distraught father buoyed by his son’s reassuring words. But his smile was fake. Like a tent with its skeleton of poles disassembled, he sagged, felt himself keeling over, collapsing.
“Dad! You okay?”
“Yeah,” he mumbled, propping himself against the side of the Matrix.
This is the end, beautiful friend This is the end, my only friend The end of our elaborate plans The end of everything that stands
The Doors cut in dramatically.
“What!”
“Nothing!” Buddy assured, short of breath.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine son.”
“Where are you?”
Good question, Buddy looked around. He’d pulled into a weigh station off the Trans-Canada, just north of Duncan. A steady stream of traffic whizzed by, uncaring and unthinking. “I’m just heading out for a day or two, car-camping.”
“At this time of year? You’ll freeze your knackers off!”
Buddy laughed. It felt good, a little ribbing between father and son. Like things are supposed to feel.
“I’ll be fine,” he said. “You take care too.”
“Bye, Dad,” Robbie countered, forcing a smile.
They exchanged a farewell glance, then Buddy ended the call, feeling suddenly alone, thoughtful, but resolved. Like you sometimes feel when you’ve just finished a really good book.
The end No safety or surprise The end I’ll never look into your eyes again
Then he wondered: What will Robbie say if he’s ever asked about this conversation?
Next: What sense reveals