#3 Too Err Is Human

1932
Richard McKindrick perused the contract one more time then passed it across the oak table to Cameron McIntyre. He disliked the way that many side show performers had taken to putting down roots and moving their shows into the theater, but McIntyre and his tumbling dwarf were a big draw, so he supposed he'd have to suffer them for another six week stint. McIntyre read through the contract and taking the offered pen signed a scrawl of symbols across the bottom, the tingling and ache in the knuckles brought a slight grimace to his face, but he focused past the discomfort and passed the signed document back.
"Normal clauses Cameron, one afternoon performance and one in the evening, I'll organize publicity and make sure yours and whatever his name's name go onto the summer show posters"
"Wouldn't have it any other way Dick".
Cameron grinned inwardly, he knew McKindrick disliked his name being shortened, but he did it anyway.
"OK Cam so we'll see you in four weeks",
grudgingly he shook Cameron's outstretched hand.

A week later the posters went up around the city, ..............."The Montreal Vaudeville Theater is proud to present 'SUMMER FAYRE". The man read the blurb, but his attention was drawn to the name of an act halfway through the cast presentation. The man made a mental note of the date and walked away, a passing automobile drove through a curbside puddle splashing his trouser legs, if he noticed he made no acknowledgment of it. His mind was elsewhere.

Arriving back at his room the man laid on his bed, the exertion of the last few hours transformed into a nagging pain across his mid-drift, sour bile rose in his throat; with effort he kept it down. A sudden onrush of bloodstained bile and half digested food exploded past his flimsy defenses and cascaded from his mouth. Dry heaving followed, the disturbance in his stomach subsiding. The man went through a well practiced cleaning routine, soiled bedclothes joining an ever-increasing pile in the bathroom basket. Refreshed and cleaned, the man settled himself back onto his bed, cluttered memories clearing in his mind.

"Morning sleepyhead."
The dulcet tones enticed him from his semi slumber. He yawned, opening his eyes, immediately closing them again as sunlight penetrated his senses,
"You certainly tied one on last night."
For the first time he took a clear look at the girl. Semi naked she was trying to entrap pendulous breasts behind a barrier of bone and material. If he remembered rightly, her name was Clarissa, but he couldn't be sure, there had been so many Clarissas in the last few years, but she was right about one thing, he had certainly tied one on last night, still there was nothing new in that.

The memory faded, sleep crept up, trying to claim another victim, the fading memory of Clarissa's form failing to change the form of his flaccid member. 'Yet another part of me that's failing,' he joked to himself, 'at least next week I'll see Eugene, then things should be fine,' ............sleep finally claimed him.

1 week later
Eugene Judd toweled his dripping body. Cameron McIntyre tried to attract his attention again.
"Genie, you going to join us down 'DA Frencescos', it's been a good opening night, we done well and McKindrick's happy with the returns",
"I'm not sure, I might just go and have a couple of drinks and catch an early night. I've been thinking about the burning hoop tumble and I'm sure I can improve on it."
"Well if you change your mind, you know where to find me."
"OK Cam, if I don't get down there I'll see you tomorrow."
Eugene heard the door close as McIntyre left. Barely a second had passed before he heard a knock,
"Come in Cam, what have you forgotten?"
The man opened the door and stared at the small figure standing at the far end of the room. At three foot six inches his size had hardly changed, he noticed the muscular frame and the slightly deformed ear. The lack of response from the person at the door forced Eugene to turn,
"Can I help you?"
"Eugene............son",
"D...dad?"
"Hello Eugene, I saw your name on the posters around town and I thought I'd come and see you",
"That's it is it? You saw my name and thought you'd come and see me, that's bloody big of you, what about the last fourteen years?"
"I'm sorry about that if I could take back all them years and start from scratch I would, ...Eugene I came to see you, because I wanted to say sorry for everything, I'm dying and I felt I owed you something",
"What, you wanted to salve your conscience, eh dad?"
"No, that's not why I came Eugene, I ............"
The anger rose in Eugene,
"Do you know something dad, when I was younger, I use to dream of this moment, you would come back and we'd be a proper family. Over the years that dream faded, I never knew you as a dad, because you never took any notice of me, you were just this other person in the house with me and mum, but the other kids at school would talk about fishing with their dads, camping trips with their dads and I didn't even know what a dad was. Eventually that feeling, that need for you to be a dad disappeared................ I'm sorry you're dying, as I would be sorry for any person dying, but inside I can't feel sorrow at the fact my father is dying, I can't even hate you, there is nothing there, the only emotion you spark in me is one of anger, not for what you did to me, but what you did to her, you walked away, you couldn't cope with the fact that you had a freak for a son, so you punished her. She had every reason to hate me, I forced away her husband, lover, partner, but not once did she point the finger at me, I caused you to leave and she never made one comment. Even when the cancer got her, there were no complaints; I watched her struggle to provide for me, sewing my clothes, everything. "
A lump formed in Eugene's throat,
"After all that, when she died, she still held your photo in her hand, some of her last thoughts where for you and you knew she was dying, your mother kept in touch, if mom could have seen you once before she died, but no, you couldn't break away from your busy life to do that. I wish I could say be my dad, be a friend, but I never had a dad, so I don't feel the need, I can't say keep in touch, because I would be lying to us both, I'd be doing it cos it would be the expected thing to do, mum taught me a very important lesson, 'always be truthful to yourself', so I have to be, as I said, I'm sorry you're dying, but you can't be in my life"
"I wish I had done things different Eugene"
"Yea so do I dad, so do I".

The man went to walk away, turning, taking a long look at the figure in front of him; the realization hit Conrad Judd, that for all his son's diminutive form, he had become a bigger man than Conrad could ever hope to have been. The door closed, Eugene Judd stared at the door, tears staining his eyes and blurring his vision, he almost started after his father, but a distant memory entered his head, 'Walk tall Eugene, Walk tall and walk straight.

The man entered his room, he couldn't remember the journey back, thoughts had pounded their way through his mind all the way back, lying back on the bed he allowed all his son's words to sink in, eventually he reached towards his bedside cupboard, he drew the bottle of bourbon from the draw, he wasn't sure how much punishment his damaged liver could take, but if this one failed to inform him, he had a companion bottle which would certainly give him his answer.