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By Lawrence Chu
A Product of My Imagination

My mother died when I was really young.  Something about a traffic 
accident.  I never really knew the details, just that a car hit her 
while she was in the middle of the street.  My dad became an 
alcoholic, and although he never beat me up (he was one of those 
uncontrollable sobbing types), they took me away from him, too.  He 
killed himself, an aspirin overdose while he was under the influence, 
I was told.  The last words of his note were, and I quote this 
exactly, "I don't want my son to ever, ever leave me I would miss him 
soooo badly so please I want him with me."  I was a boy of fifteen at 
the time.

Now I'm thirty, and I think I know what he was talking about.  Maybe 
it was just my past, but I didn't get along too well with my ex-wife.  
There was something that didn't quite fit with me.  I think that I 
wanted to get away from it all.  After all, I was fresh out of 
college, and I wanted a fresh
jumpstart on life, to change all the things that had happened in my 
past, to break my unlucky streak.  It was great for a couple of 
years, but then things started going sour, especially when I lost my 
job.  The argument started out small, like most of our quibbles did, 
then all of a sudden, it exploded.  I
was angry, she was angry, little Sean was crying, and she packed up 
everything within an hour, complete with little Sean's toys and crib.

The same thing has been happening recently with my current 
girlfriend.  I mean, Jan's nice and tries to be supportive, but 
nowadays it's been hell.  It started when she moved in.  I didn't 
want to repeat the same thing that happened with Maxine, but that's 
how it was degrading.  I was beginning to
wish none of it ever happened, starting with Jan's entrance into my 
life, no, make that accepting my job as a journalist, no, even 
better, ever leaving my father's side.  I always blamed myself for 
everything that happened.  After all, I was the one who was 
responsible.

Last night, I told Jan, quietly, that I didn't think it would be a 
good idea to see each other anymore, because I didn't want her to get 
hurt by me.  I was getting that dangerous.  She told me, and this is 
word for word, "If you care that much, if you really think that's the 
truth, I'll always be available for you.  I'll never leave you."

It was snowing outside.  I went out for a walk.

And stopped outside of Max's new place.

I saw her, beautiful even three years after our divorce, watching 
little Sean run around on two legs.  He was scooped up by his 
stepfather, who playfully ticked him on the chin, sending him into 
spasms of delight.

The warm peach light shone out of the window and onto my feet.  Even 
though their apartment was three stories up.

My feet felt warm, but the rest of me was shivering.  I decided to 
see how my son was doing.

When Max opened the door, she stopped for about ten seconds.  Her 
mouth opened and closed maybe five times before it became a weak 
smile.  "Long time no see!"

I tried my best to smile too, and I think I succeeded.  "It has been 
a while, hasn't it, Max?"

"Definitely!"

Roger came out of the play room and saw me.  "Hey-hey!  Come in, you 
look cold!"  He seemed totally oblivious to everything going on.

I stepped into the room and felt the golden-yellow wash over me, 
almost as if a warm shower had been prepared for me.

"Er...thanks.  I was in the neighborhood, and I felt like stopping 
by..."

Roger gestured me to a seat.  "So how're tricks?  How's Janet?"

My heart jumped, and I think I said something to the effect of "we 
don't live together anymore."

Max and Roger both looked at each other, and then back at me.  For 
the first time in three years, I saw genuine sorrow in Max's eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.  "I--I didn't know--"

"S'all right." I waved her off.  "It was bound to happen, even after 
eight months."

I straightened up.  "So how's the little guy?"

"Oh!" Max jumped up and went into the playroom.  Out came the one 
constant spot of joy in my life, babbling happily.

"Fufu!"  He giggled.

Max blushed, then proceeded to explain that "Fufu" was the nickname 
she gave to that person in the photos that was never there-- oh, foo.

I played with him (with the others watching) for about half an hour 
amidst broken pieces of conversation.  Little Sean was delirious with 
joy the entire time, especially when we brought the little toy cars 
out for him to play with.  He enjoyed bumping the little Porsche 
against Max's shoe, "Brruumm!  Brruumm!" while we were enjoying a cup 
of espresso.

At the end, I got up, said goodbye, and let the last of the golden 
yellow glow come over me.  Max told me that I could come by whenever 
I felt like it, and Roger agreed.

When I left, the snowfall had become lighter, though the snow on the 
ground was pretty deep-- maybe two and a half, three feet?  Anyway, I 
continued my walk.

Forty-five minutes later, I could see Jan through the window of her 
old place, her sister's apartment.  She saw me and waved.  I waved 
back and let the green light shine on me for a minute or so.  Then I 
continued on.

I made one more stop, one last stop before I went back.  There was a 
bridge that I liked to go to, where I could sit on the edge and enjoy 
the scenery and just think for a long time.  That's what I did.

I thought.

About Mother and Dad and Max and Jan and Roger, and everyone else 
that I knew from the old days, and, of course, little Sean.  
Especially Sean.  Where we'd go and where we'd gone, what he'd be 
like when he grew up, how his father would be proud of him, and the 
absolute pride that would be his maturity.

And how I'd probably not be around to see it.

I thought.

About what happened over the last thirty years, the events in 
general, the orphanage, Dad's funeral, my job at the paper, my 
marriage with Max, and joy of little Sean's birth.

And how the last three of those quickly ended for me.

I thought.

Finally, I stood up.  It was time for me to return home.

***

It had been a long time.  I was waiting for this moment, long before 
he ever knew it.  And then I saw him.

He cried out, "Dad!"

"Sean!"  I hugged him close and told him that I never, ever, wanted 
him to leave me.

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