Beyond Repair [CLWC]

July 11, 1963

His name was Homer Jay Simpson. You’d see him around, playing with his friends in the playground. He was the happy-go-lucky one with the mussed up hair and ignorant smile. Often, he’d be seen with his friends; a pug-nosed grouchy boy with ragged clothes named Moe along with a rather overweight boy named Barney.

This boy, Homer looked up at the sky. Seeing the sun setting, Homer knew that it was time to go home. He knew that during sunset, he and his father would have dinner in front of the TV, watching the news. Hopefully he’d catch a segment on his idol, none other than the President himself, John F. Kennedy.

So he farewelled his friends and ran back home, through the town, waving at people he knew; such as the florist, the butcher, and the resentful librarian.

As soon as he reached his house, he saw that his father’s red and white ’59 Cadillac parked outside, and ran his hand long one of the rear tailfins. When he reached the front door, he opened it, and called out, “Dad, I’m home!”

Abraham Simpson, his father, was sitting in front of the TV, already watching the news. Homer walked over to the recliner where his father was sitting, tapping his arm gently.

The young boy could smell the alcohol in the ambience and could see the amber liquid in the whiskey glass. His father’s tie was loosened and his hair was in a mess that even Brylcreem couldn’t fix. It was a sign that his father had a tough day at work. Still, he refused to let his smile falter.

“Dad, I’m home,” Homer repeated in a softer tone. Abe turned to face his son. He had a dark look on his face, but Homer refused to let his smile falter.

“Where were you, boy?” Abraham demanded, “I expected you here fifteen minutes ago!”

Homer’s smile widened.

“But at least I’m here, right?” he replied. Abe scowled and yelled, “You still should’ve been here fifteen minutes ago! Can’t you read the goddamn clock?”

The boy looked up and narrowed his eyes and thought aloud. “Uh… it’s six… the big hand is on the five, meaning that it would be… hmm…”

In frustration, and without hesitation, Abe clenched his hands around Homer’s neck.

“Why you little…” he cursed through gritted teeth, “Why did you have to be so damn slow? I didn’t raise you to be a handicap, unless you’re doing it on purpose! On goddamn purpose!”

Homer tried to speak, but he was close to falling unconscious. Tears started forming in his eyes, silently pleading his father to stop. When Abe saw this, he loosened his grip, and let his son go. Homer caught his breath, the tears hitting the carpet.

Abe took another gulp of his drink. Homer wiped the tears away and pretended that what just happened never did. They stared at each other, saying nothing for a good few minutes.

“Your… your supper’s ready,” Abe managed to say. Without a word, Homer went into the kitchen and got his reheated TV dinner from the table, before returning to the living room and sitting on the floor adjacent to his father’s chair.

They’ve been living on TV dinners since his mother left, and Homer was missing her delightful cooking. It wasn’t only just the food that changed since his mother’s abandonment. It took a toll on Abe, and he since had become bitter and distant. His colleagues that he once called friends often mocked him about his wife leaving, and how his son was flunking school.

Homer collected their empty foil trays, washed the knives and forks, and returned to the living room again, smiling. This time, Abe was massaging his head, trying to quell the migraine. When he saw his son, he wanted to question why his son had that goofy grin on his face, but decided that silence was golden.

Meanwhile, Homer wanted to prove to his father that he was strong, and that nothing could get to him. His smile was the only thing convincing him that everything was okay. Half the time, he really believed that he was okay, and it made him feel a lot better.

So on that day, in the living room where the TV was on with nobody paying attention to it, he finally decided that feigning happiness was the way to go.

On that day, Homer Jay Simpson had become broken beyond repair. The only thing that could fix him was his father’s genuine love, or love from someone else. But the question was, when would either one happen?

Until then, Homer refused to let his smile falter.

In addition to Thursday, July the 11th, they didn’t broadcast anything spectacular on John F. Kennedy either.

Bittersweet.

A great story though.

SnF

reply to post by Marcelli


That was very interesting

Thanks for sharing

SnF

Peace and love
-nat the cat-

reply to post by beezzer


Thanks! Very much appreciated

reply to post by natalia


Thank you very much!