The Five Wishes of Mr. Murray McBride

by Joe Siple

I ask Father James if he can do a confession right here in the car, since I have something to confess and at my age a guy never knows when he might keel over and die. He sports his sideways grin and then says the part about what sins have I come to confess. We always hop right over the “How long has it been since your last confession” part, because he always knows the answer—one day.

“My list!” Jason snatches it from my hand, stares at it for a moment, and wraps me in a hug. “Okay, okay,” I say. “Don’t go getting schmaltzy on me.” I pat his back a little awkwardly, then gently push him away. People these days are so...affectionate. We weren’t like that in my day. A handshake and a quick second of eye contact is all it took to say all that needed saying. When Jason finally pulls away, there are tears in his eyes.

don’t understand what “Duh” means, but I’m not about to tell my little friend that.

In my day, we weren’t so touchy-feely. It was a more stoic time with good, old-fashioned American values like work-ethic and independence. But now I wonder if it wasn’t a mistake. If maybe I should have listened to that part of me that wanted to grab up my sons, just like Tiegan’s mother does, and squeeze them until they knew how much I cared. Can’t help but admire these two for doing things their own way, despite what society says. They’re making their own mind up about how they want to be. How they want to act.

Things hurt worst first thing in the morning. It’s like death senses an opportunity—an old man lying down, eyes closed, breathing slowly. Like most of his job is already done for him and all he has to do is lower the final blow. Next thing you know, I’ll be floating up to St. Peter’s gate. Except I keep cheating death, one way or another. So each morning I wake up, feeling like death got a little closer than the last time, and I have to work a little more to get life back into my arms and legs, my eyelids and toes. Takes a while, too. Longer each morning, seems to me.