The birthmark is on his forearm and it looks like a roller skate, the old school skate with the four wheels.
Dalton Arphaus hears the old style roller skating is coming back, wonders if he can cash in some way.
He’s always wanted to be in commercials.
There was a bartender on a commercial who poured beer perfectly when Dalton’s dad was watching pro bowling.
Dalton’s dad would practice the pour.
He never got the head right, or part of the beer would spill over the top onto the aluminum TV tray that sounded like a gong for leprechauns when Dalton’s mom threw it in the sink to rinse it.
Dalton couldn’t talk when bowling was on, because his father was either trying to perfect his beer pour or studying the form of the pro bowlers, because Dalton’s dad dreamed of being a pro bowler.
Thousands of beers were poured in front of the TV, and Dalton’s dad only bowled once a month, the last Wednesday of every month, when Fulton Lanes and Lounge honored a coupon for half off.
The oxygen tank is on wheels, trailing just behind Mom, and she’s asking what he’s gonna do with his life, the grocery store is always hiring.
Dalton can’t tell her he worked at the grocery store for three days and got fired, got fired for eating one little Fuji apple that fell on the floor by the display, so he tells her, he says it like he’s reading from The Book of Truth, that he’s gonna be in a roller rink commercial.
Mom smiles, a real smile, and starts laughing, and says “I didn’t even know you could roller skate, Dalton Anthony.”
Even though he fabricated the roller skate commercial, he can’t lie about knowing how to roller skate, because he just knows he can’t.
And when Mom gets back to her bed in the room with the black lady that screams the bids at The Price is Right and sometimes keeps screaming numbers when Family Feud is on, Mom tells Dalton she thinks she doesn’t have much time left.
“I’m gonna go be with your Dad.”
Dalton doesn’t want to believe her, but he does, like Mom is really reading from The Book of Truth.
His license is suspended but he’s driving, driving Mom’s old Chrysler with a fuzzy smiley sticker stuck to the dashboard.
He gets to Westland Skate-O-Rama, huffs a little bottle of Rush, walks inside and asks the girl at the counter if Westland Skate-O-Rama is gonna make a commercial.
The girl behind the counter looks at Dalton like he farted, not accidentally, rude and on purpose, then her whole face changes, like she’s a different person entirely, and she says “Know what, that would eat diamonds, because I can do a backflip on skates and my probation officer is on my shit about restitution.”
Dalton points to his birthmark, points at it, touches his own flesh like it’s a squeaky toy and says “I gotta be in your commercial because I got a birthmark just like a roller skate.”
The girl leans over the counter and says, ruder than a fart but sounding so sweet, “That doesn’t look like a roller skate, that looks like upside down Snoopy.”
Dalton starts to say the meanest thing he can think of, but he’s not sure what. She’s missing a tooth but so is he, and she has little hairs on her chest he could see when she leaned over the counter, but so does he, so Dalton says “I promised my mother I’d be in a roller skate commercial.”
The girl says, like it’s all one thought, “I promised my ma I wouldn’t give my daughter up for adoption but I did. Sometimes Mike needs people to work private parties, do you want to fill out an application?”
Dalton nods like he’s trying to break a two by four with his chin, and the girl hands him the application.
He prints Dalton Anthony Arphaus, but he stops at date of birth because he’s embarrassed.
“What do people have to do at private parties?”
He prays to Dave Mathews and John Cena that she doesn’t say “teach roller skating,” but she says “sometimes bartending for bachelorette parties.”
Dalton asks her if bartenders have to pour beer.
The girl goes back to that original face, that you farted at me on purpose face and says “Of course.”
“Pouring beer is hard,” Dalton says, but the girl is collecting roller skates from two sweaty people.
Dalton leaves the application sitting on the desk, but he keeps the pen, and when he gets to Mom’s car he’s going to draw a little dog house for Snoopy on his forearm.
***
You ever make your mother any promises you couldn’t keep?
Like this? Love this?
You can buymeacoffee.com/JimmyDoom or
I like this story, Jimmy.
Had a long talk with my brother yesterday.
Hadn't seen him in a year.
We met up in the Pacific Northwest to celebrate Mom's 88th and Mother's Day.
He thinks differently than I. He moves in an entirely different plane of people than I.
That's a good thing because it forced me to consider other scenarios, kind of like you just did with this story.
We are the sum of all our experiences, and the way we think is influenced by all the memories we have orbiting in our heads.
Dalton nods like he’s trying to break a two by four with his chin, and the girl hands him the application