The Between Years

leg felt paralyzed when he woke. His neck felt like a two-by-four. A strangling pain clutched his right leg until he rolled over onto his left side and let the blood begin to flow again.

    Good goddamn, he thought, and rubbed the back of his head. The railing had left tender grooves in his skin.

    When he realized where he was, he raised his hand high above his head, and claimed a small victory. He'd woken up where he remembered having sat last night. He couldn't remember the moment he'd fallen asleep but he didn't care since he'd grabbed a foothold on the problem. Maybe that would seem like small bananas to anyone else, but to Randy it was a triumph. He climbed to his feet and needed a moment to stand up straight.

    When his vertebrae popped, Randy feared he would buckle, and wind up on the floor. The final crack shot a jolt of pain down the back of his right leg.

    First, he hit the washroom and splashed rounds of cold water over his face, then unzipped for a piss. That another night had passed without having pounded a cold glass of water or the chance to brush his teeth dawned on him as he tilted his head back. He unzipped, washed his hands and decided the shower could wait: he'd been on to something last night and he had work to do.

    In Kenny's room, he found everything in its place, just as he'd expected. And, of course, Kenny himself was missing. He spotted the closet door as being open a pinch and a second wind of curiosity arrested him. Could he be hiding more in there? He opened the door and found the first hoard of food and empty wrappers that Kenny had stuffed inside. But he also found wrappers for Twinkies and Hostess cupcakes, not to mention half-consumed bottles of Pepsi that he hadn't seen last night. Randy's heart sank.

    Had their heart-to-heart only caused him more grief? He wondered. He hadn't meant to hurt his feelings by bringing up his weight and thought he'd approached the topic in the most tactful manner possible. Then he tried to trade places with Kenny and imagined how he must have felt simply to have someone notice his excessive weight. Not that he blamed Kenny, but there seemed to be no scenario in which Randy could win.

    Downstairs, he opened the fridge so he could pour the glass of milk he so coveted and found the jug missing. And so was a plateful of leftover lasagna. He'd bought some pudding cups for his lunch that had disappeared. Then he checked the freezer and saw that the chocolate ice cream he'd bought had suddenly grown legs. Randy feared Kenny's problem could be worse than he'd first anticipated.

    Randy became quickly convinced that his son had a slow but deadly problem and he didn't want his self-confidence to be completely obliterated. Moreover, he didn't want his son to eat himself into an early grave, particularly because of the deep void in his life. He hoped Kenny hadn't taken his reaction as being judgmental; he simply hadn't expected such a drastic change in his appearance. Randy himself had gained a few extra pounds here and there-which he'd promptly shed once he disliked what he'd seen on the bathroom scale-but he'd never had a serious problem. If he couldn't understand the difficulty in pushing food away when he was hurt, knew he couldn't understand Kenny's trials.

    He'd already confronted Kenny about the problem and had been disappointed by how unsuccessful he'd been. He didn't want the boy to despise him simply because he needed to tell him the truth. He certainly would do him no favour by lying. When Carol had become pregnant with Kenny, Randy's dad pointed to that as a reality of parenting, and Randy had listened attentively at the time. Now he wanted to dismiss it. He couldn't risk intensifying Kenny's hatred.

    Hatred. Randy couldn't believe that such a poignant word applied to his relationship with Kenny. As much as he reassured himself, he knew that Kenny's animosity was that deep. He decided it was another unanticipated reality of being a parent and one that his father hadn't prepared him for. But weren't kids supposed to love their parents as unconditionally as their parents loved them? He wondered. But then he remembered how often parents fell short in that category as well.

    But not Randy. He wouldn't let his love for Kenny falter one little bit, no matter how fierce his spite became. Before the situation flew out of control, he decided he would call Carol and tell her that he was ready to talk. He wouldn't show her his entire hand; that was begging