CHAPTER 5 — The Assembly Line of Fatherhood
The bicycle came in a flat cardboard box with seventy-two metal pieces and a manual written in three languages, none of which made sense. Damien sat on his living room rug, surrounded by wrenches. He had managed corporate mergers worth nine figures. But a front-wheel alignment was breaking his spirit.
The doorbell rang. It was Tuesday. His designated evening. Mara stood at the door with Noah. Ethan had stayed behind at a friend’s house, but Noah had insisted on coming. Not to see Damien. To bring back a jacket Ethan had left in Damien’s car the previous weekend.
Noah stood in the hallway, looking at the mess of metal on the floor. “What is that?” the boy asked. “A mistake,” Damien muttered, wiping grease from his forehead. “It’s supposed to be Ethan’s birthday present.”
Noah walked over. He didn’t sit down, but he bent over to look at the manual. “You put the fork on backwards,” Noah said. Damien paused. “The what?” “The fork. The thing that holds the wheel. It’s upside down.”
Damien looked at the diagram, then at the metal piece. Noah was right. “How do you know that?” Damien asked. “I watched a video,” Noah said simply. “And I like things that fit together properly.”
May you like
For the next two hours, they didn’t talk about the past. They didn’t talk about Victoria. They didn’t talk about why Damien hadn’t been there for three years. They just talked about screws, washers, and brake cables. Noah stayed on the floor. Damien handed him the tools.
When Mara came back to pick Noah up, the bicycle was standing. It was slightly crooked, but it was whole. Noah walked to the door, then stopped. “It doesn’t wobble,” Noah told his mother. Mara looked at Damien, then at the bike, then back to her son. “That’s a start,” she said.
