Scene 3

He has spaced out suddenly. He is moving the brush while his son is smiling a tremendous, tooth-exposing grin.

He has forgotten that he is brushing the three year old’s teeth because he is preoccupied with his mothers woes:

-Because there was such great tax debt to pay her husband had scaled back the life insurance until there was almost nothing.

-Because there is outstanding tax debt she cannot claim the life insurance until a settlement is negotiated.

-Because she has not claimed life insurance she has no money to pay for the three cemetery plots she purchased: one for her husband (deceased/buried,) one for herself (bereaved,) one for her youngest son (mentally retarded.)

-Because she has not paid for the three cemetery plots the woman who works for the church that runs the cemetery emailed her today saying that she can only hold the two plots next to her husband’s until the end of January.

“Okay, now my turn daddy?” asks the preschooler.

Wow, he thinks, there is an overwhelming biblical precedent for providing for widows. I wouldn’t expect the IRS to show any humanity towards her, but a church-run cemetery? Can’t they just let her pay $100 a month? Jesus told John to take care of his widowed mother while he was NAILED TO A CROSS! Who are these people?

“Daddy, iss my TURN!”

He has ceased brushing the baby teeth and is opening the mirrored medicine cabinet. He lays the bear-shaped brush on a shelf and closes the mirror.

“NO DADDY! ISS MY TURN!” The blonde little boy is desperate now, weeping.

Snapping out of it. He finally realizes his mistake. He hurries his hands back to the medicine cabinet and returns the tooth brush into the small, fair hands. He feels sorrow over his detachment from the temporal, from his first-born, and pulls him to his chest. He tries to tell the little boy how sorry he is. That he was distracted, thinking about Gran, wishing he could help her because she is so sad.

“Do you know what I mean?” he asks to the boy.

“Yes, Daddy,” the child pushes himself upright from his father’s chest. Rubbing his moistened eyes he explains “ Yes, I want Gran, help me brush my teeth.”