Indiana Jones

I swear to God I will kill that son of a bitch with my bare hands.

I'll admit he's tough for an old guy, but if I see one tear on my mother's face I will hunt him down and take him out.

OK, maybe I'll make him suffer first.

He was supposed to spend Christmas here with me, Mom and Ox in Chicago.

It's fucking Christmas Eve and I went to meet his train.

'Cause I'm a nice guy, you know? And because if we're gonna be a family, that's what family does.

He wasn't at the station and trust me I would have found him- I've done it before. I'm his son. Well, only in one sense. Stand my mother up and you're through, old man. I've got news for you Professor- the way I see it my father was the man who was there for my mama and me. He would never have left us if he hadn't been killed in the war. I was proud to be Colin Williams' son before I knew you existed and it looks like that's the way it's gonna be from now on. I just wish my mother's heart wasn't gonna break for you. Again.

Now Christmas Eve is a busy night at The Raven, the restaurant and bar my mother owns half of. 'Raven' doesn't have anything to do with Edgar Allen Poe; it's from 'Ravenwood', her maiden name. Get it? They close early on Christmas Eve, and then re-open to serve a free dinner to whoever comes in. Some of the faculty from the University of Chicago help cook and serve- it's sort of a charity thing.

We get some nice people who are down on their luck. And the dopers, boozers, call girls and hookers. I don't think the good people from Squaresville really understand who they're serving here. And who am I to tell them?

Mom says the call girls usually don't work Christmas Eve, because most of the men who can afford them will be keeping up appearances with their families. The lower-rent girls who work the bars or the streets will be pretty busy, though. The world is full of lonely men, she says, and Christmas Eve is a time where they go looking for a little comfort and a chance to forget they're alone. I have gotta say we are not the Nelsons-I don't know anybody else whose mother knows about hookers-let alone talks to him about this stuff.

So, even without Indy, I figure I better get back and start helping out. I walk in, Mom looks at me, and her eyes flick away when she sees I'm alone. She squares her shoulders and presses her lips together- and smiles even brighter at the people she's talking with. I've started to call that her 'I'll cry tomorrow' look. I never used to notice it when I was a kid, but now that I'm a man I do. And I remember how many times I've seen it before.

My mama is one sweet lady but she's tough as nails too- it was me and her against the world for a long time. That bastard Jones can't throw one damn thing at us that we can't handle together. I just wish we didn't have to. I'm such an idiot- I thought he really loved her. Well my Mom was smarter than that- when he asked her to marry him she said that if he wanted her, he'd have to prove that we could trust him. Yeah, he's proved something all right.

Harold Oxley, my second father, is helping set up the tables. He looks up, sees I'm alone and his eyes widen. I pull him aside to get him on the QT. "He wasn't at the station, Ox", I say real softly. "I was there for a long time. It was the last train, man. I don't think he's gonna show."

If the Ox was a swearing kind of guy he would have said 'Oh, shit' right about then.

But he's not, so he just gives me a sober look.

"Maybe something happened. I'm sure Henry meant to come…" Ox begins.

"Yeah, Ox", I say, making sure I play it cool; keep it light. "I'm sure he meant everything he said to me and Mom. At least at the time. But y'know, some guys …." I shake my head and let my voice trail off. It doesn't quaver-I'm proud of that. I sound like a man, just tellin' it like it is about another man. And hey, if my eyes sting just a little, regretting the father I didn't know I had, well, nobody has to see. Atta way, Mutt-boy I tell myself. Never let 'em see you sweat. Just like your mama never lets 'em see her cry.

Much as I love Ox, he can be pretty oblivious sometimes. If anything happened to Indy, it was probably some Sweet Thing in a tight sweater who'd do anything for a better grade, Dr. Jones. I'm serious- Mom and I spent a week with him up in Connecticut last fall and I've been back to visit. You would not believe the goo-goo eyes that some chicks my age make at the old fossil. It would be pathetic if it wasn't so nauseating. I mean I'm younger, maybe not as tall but way better looking, and I was standing right there…

Speaking of standing right there… oh, crap. It's Frankenstein, making a beeline for Mom. No, his name's really not Frankenstein, it's 'Dr. Franklin Pierce Thompson' if you please. He works with Ox at University of Chicago, teaches cultural anthropology. I'd never admit it to the guys but I actually know what that is and it's pretty interesting. Or it could be if he wasn't teaching it.

Anyway, Frankenstein's been eyeing my mama for awhile and man, he's got it bad.

I'm a guy, I know what he's up to-he's not here tonight to serve a dinner, he's just here because he wants to see her. Before we went to Peru, she went out to dinner with him a few times. Since we came back she's pretty much blown him off, on account of getting back together with my Da- with Indy, I mean. That may have been a mistake, Mom.

Frankie's a blowhard, a pompous ass and a general pain in the ass but after tonight I may reconsider him. I mean, I'm practically on my own now, so if he sticks around I'd only have to put up with him on holidays. Holidays, you know, like this one-when people are supposed to show up when they say they will.

Tonight, at least one of the men in Mom's life is gonna be there for her.

If she wants to go straight home after we close, I'm driving and I'm not leaving her alone. If anybody asks, hey- I'll just say I forgot something or Mom wants me to shave, and we'll swing by the church later. If Mom wants to go to that midnight service with Ox- no matter how boring I happen to think it its, I'm gonna be right there beside her holding her hand.

So, OK, if we do make midnight mass I may try to say 'hi' to Tina Capoletti. She'll probably be there with her folks. Tina's back from college for Christmas, and I'm telling you, only a dead guy would miss a chance to make a little time with her. Tina's a sweetheart anyway, and then those big brown eyes and that smile-man, oh man, oh man. Not to mention the rest of her, which is real easy on the eyes. And you know, Mr. C may not give me the evil eye when I come around if he sees me in a sport coat and tie for once. But that should be 15 minutes tops-the rest of the night belongs to my mama.

Ox and a bunch of the other UC faculty are all getting their aprons on now; ready to serve at this wing-ding. Mom keeps them in front at the buffet line which is probably a good thing. Personally I wouldn't trust half of those geezers in the kitchen where there are, y'know, sharp knives. They might hurt themselves. The only prof I've ever seen or heard of who can handle himself worth jack in a fight is my D-. Nuh-uh. Not going there.

Anyway we usually set up one of the banquet rooms as a kind of locker area for the volunteers. The Profs hang up their nice suits and shirts. Mom and the wives have pretty dresses to change into if they are going to church after we close. I stop in to hang up my leather jacket and I notice something. There's a tweed sport coat and a pair of brown slacks hanging up by Mom's outfit. They weren't there when I left. A BIG pair of man's wingtips is on the floor next to Mom's pumps. Indy's got big feet like mine. Or maybe I have big feet like his. And there's a shirt, a big one, hanging next to the slacks. A very familiar looking bow tie is sticking out of the pocket..

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