Guts

“You need lipo, Dad,” Matthew says, busily text messaging on the couch.

Tony looks down at his gut, not particularly happy. Of course his reedy, fourteen-year-old son seems to think anyone who hasn’t stretched four inches over the last year like he has is fat, especially if the person’s over twenty-five.

He’s hanging out with Matthew at his estranged wife’s home tonight—the home he used to live in, too—while she’s out on a date. “You’re right, kid. I could stand to lose a few.”

“So why don’t you get lipo, then? Can’t we afford it?”

Tony wonders whether the pounds have anything to do with his wife’s unhappiness. He’s always wanted her to be happy, though apparently he hasn’t succeeded. He thinks she’s beautiful and would have stayed with her forever.

Matthew keeps pushing buttons on his cell, his long blond bangs sweeping across his face. At least he’s practicing his writing, Tony considers. Because of his son’s growth spurt, he has no chest, no meat on his long, meager limbs, no butt. Tony isn’t sure how the kid’s thick hip-hugger belt stays up.

“Is that an earring?” he asks, though he can see for himself an earlobe emerging from the long hair with a small gold stud in it.

“So?”

“Who did it?”

“A girl at school. She’s been doing lots of kids.”

“Does your mom know? “

“No.”

“She’s not going to be happy,” Tony says. He’s seen plenty of guys with earrings, though. Does it matter?

“Nah. She won’t care.”

Tony doubts he’s ever seen his wife not care about something, and if there’s any chance of his moving back in, which he’s desperately been trying to do, he’d like to say the right thing.

“My dad really needs lipo,” Matthew says, now talking into his cell. “Even he says so.”

Tony locks the bathroom door and stares into the vanity mirror below exposed bulbs. He turns sideways. Does he need surgery? He inhales so deeply it looks like someone has scooped his stomach out, concave. When he contracts his bicep, a big beefy mound appears above his elbow. Not so bad. What do women want, men who are manorexic, as Matthew and his friends call some of the skinny hip-hop singers? One of Tony’s few recent dates told him she found his thick chest and shoulders sexy, like women used to before he married.

When Matthew was younger, caring for him was as easy as grabbing the kid up in a bear hug and watching movies where animals were the stars. Now it’s close to impossible to pull Matthew away from MySpace, where he talks to older girls, or to get affection from him at all. On Tony’s days dropping Matthew at school, his son wants to be let out a block away. Kissing him goodbye is out of the question.

His wife’s main concern is that the boy not get anyone pregnant, so she’s given Tony the job of having the talk. Tony’s tried, but Matthew seems to know what goes where. Should he tell Matthew about how wonderful lovemaking can be? Above love? He’s not sure he’s supposed to.

He descends the stairs as Matthew, still yakking, wanders up. Quickly, Tony checks his own MySpace and sees he has a new friend, a female who lives in town. He’d like to have a new friend come over to his place, where it’s far too quiet. He’s reading about the American Revolution in his studio. Now that he’s living alone, he has more time on his hands.

He hears the garage door mechanism gurgle into action and quickly signs off his and his son’s accounts, but wonders why he has to hide so many things from his wife, why he always feels he’s done something wrong.

“Where’s Matthew?” she asks first thing, entering the kitchen through the garage. He’s reminded of how nice she looks dressed up.

“Upstairs. On the phone.”

“Oh,” she groans. “I hope he hasn’t been on it all night.”

What else do kids do these days?

“Why are you still here?” she asks Tony. “The deal was you’d be gone when I got back.”

Who knows when she’ll return, though, and her other rule is she doesn’t want Matthew visiting his father’s studio apartment on school nights.

“Hi Mom,” Matthew says, bouncing down the stairs.

“Is that an earring, Matthew?”

Tony wonders how she saw it so fast. She glares at him like it’s his fault.

“He just got it today. I didn’t know anything.”

“It’s okay, Mom. Lots of kids have them.”

She turns to their son. “It’s not okay. You can’t do everything you want.”

She glares at Tony again. “Have you had a talk with him yet?”

“About what?”

“The earring! He didn’t get permission.”

“Well.” Tony tries to think. “He’s already got it, you know. Plus, I suppose he’s not the first kid who ever got one. Does it matter?”

“Oh, geez!” His wife spins on her heel and grabs Matthew by the arm. “I want you to go up and wait in your room for me,” she tells him.

When she turns back, Matthew rolls his eyes from the top step, sitting down to listen.

“So I suppose I have to be the bad guy again,” she says.

“I just don’t see...”

“You just don’t think, do you?” she says. “You...”

Tony hears himself interrupt. “So throw some alcohol on it. It’s not the end of the world. He’s not into drugs or gangs. He’s doing his best at school. Leave him alone.”

Tony turns, thinking about the beer in the fridge at home, his book on the American Revolution. His studio’s not so bad. He doesn’t like being alone, but he’s managing to get through this.

“Bye, Dad,” Matthew says, running down the stairs again.

“Bye, kid.”

“You don’t really need lipo,” Matthew says, wrapping his arms around his dad’s midriff.