Rent-A-Parent: Cody

My dad died when I was little. Cancer. It took me a while to think of it as a disease. To me it was just a scary monster that took my daddy away. None of my classmates understood death. Not the way I did.

I don’t remember the funeral all that clearly, but my mom has a picture in her drawer that she thinks I don’t know about. It’s of me, standing at my dad’s casket, my little hand reaching up. I think I was trying to wake him up.

I caught her one night, crying over the image. I’d had a nightmare and run to her crying. She had shoved the photo in the drawer and opened her arms to me, her smile as warm as a quilt.

That’s the thing about my mom. No matter how much she hurts, she never lets me see it. She’s always going out of her way to try to make sure I have a normal childhood. Like when I was six and my pal Steve decided to play little league and asked me to join him.

Mom got a ball and gloves and started playing catch with me in the yard every day. When I didn’t want to she’d say something like, ‘don’t you want to show your daddy how talented you are? He’s watching you now.’ And I desperately wanted that.

For a few years, I even convinced myself that if I was good enough, he would be so proud, he would come home. He wasn’t really dead, that is just what mom had told me because she didn’t want to tell me the truth.

I had to let that fantasy die after we got into a fight one day and I accused her of driving Dad away. I don’t know what was going through my adolescent mind. Maybe it was because Steve’s parents were getting a divorce.

I had been at their house during some of their fights. I’d hatched this idea that something similar had happened when I was little and I just didn’t remember it right. As much as Mom always told me Dad loved me, what other reason could he have for leaving me?

I’d cut her so deep that day. She’d never called me on it, never punished me. That day, when I’d spouted that horrible garbage to her she hadn’t said a word, just turned on a heel and went to her room.

She didn’t even come out for dinner that night, not really. She ordered a pizza, paid the delivery man when he arrived, placed the pizza in the kitchen, and went back to her bedroom.

I’d spent a little time wondering why she was so mad. Surely she had to understand how she had ruined my life? After I gorged myself on pizza, I had wanted to thank her for getting my favorite when I had a horrible realization.

Mom always did that. She always got me whatever I wanted most, putting her needs behind mine. I was so ashamed, I just went to bed. The next morning, she made me pancakes for breakfast as if the previous day had never happened.

That was when I made myself a promise that I would never let her feel that way again. I don’t know how successful that was, I was only 10 when I made the resolution after all. But I set out to be the best kid I could be.

When I showed talent as a hitter for my team, she pitched for me until I hit a line drive that knocked her right off her feet. Instead of getting mad, she went to the sporting goods store, a huge black eye proudly on display, and got me a practice set. It had a ball that sat upon a short pole. The ball was attached with a strong rubber cord so I could practice my swing without endangering her.

I had been so young when Dad passed away, I might have forgotten more but she never let his memory fade. Looking back, I realize it was probably painful for her, but she never stopped telling me he was looking after me.

There were plenty of weird and uncomfortable times, but somehow, we pushed through them together. All those embarrassing things adolescent boys go through? Yeah, the person I had to talk about those things with was my mother.

She never made me feel weird about it, but she never fully understood what I was going through either. Not that she didn’t try. I knew she was constantly checking online. She didn’t have friends to speak of, my fault I guess.

As a single parent, she worked two jobs. One was full time and one was part time. And she still made sure she attended every home game and went to every school concert that she could.

We had this neighbor, Mabel, a kind older lady who looked after me from time to time when mom’s work schedule got too full. I was not overly fond of her as a child, but I knew she meant well.

And having a sort of second mom was nice and all but there were times, like right now, when I really just needed a dad. I’d never really gotten comfortable enough with any of my friend’s dads to ask a favor. And I certainly had no idea how to ask anyway.

‘Hey, I know you mostly see me playing video games with your son, but could you show me how to shave my face?’ I had started growing facial hair as young boys do. I tried to ignore it for a while but as it went from a few fine hairs to something more coarse and numerous, it bugged me.

I went to Mom and of course, she had wanted to teach me to shave. We had a very weird lesson during which she taught me to shave my legs. I was mortified, but I couldn’t bear the thought of hurting her feelings.

She thought I would be able to substitute face for leg and all would be well. It wasn’t. It was two am and I had a shaved calf and no idea how to rid my face of the gathering peach fuzz.

I had been completely frustrated and joking when I typed, ‘why can’t I just a rent a dad for one day?’ into the search bar. Color me surprised when the top hit was a website called, Rent-A-Parent.

I was almost in a dreamlike state as read through their offerings. Men and women. All ages and ethnicities. I didn’t know what an empath was, but licensed sounded good. I started filling out a rental request without connecting the idea that I would need to pay.

But the innocuous looking box was at the bottom of the form under the words, ‘please describe your finances.’ Huh. My dream was turning into a nightmare. ‘How could they do this?’ I thought. 

What kind of jerks would dangle something like this in front of a desperate person, only to snatch it away? I was so angry, I decided to let them know just how stupid I thought their site was with my answer.

‘I don’t have any finances because I’m a fourteen year old. I have a paper route and I’m saving to get my mom a Christmas present. I can’t afford to waste money on jerks like you!’

What did they think, that I could ask my mother? That would be fun. ‘Hey Mom, I know you’re working two jobs because your life is dedicated to my happiness, but I need to borrow some money to rent a dad because you aren’t good enough.’

I had been striking the keys with such force, it was a wonder the noise didn’t wake Mom. Disgusted, I closed my laptop and shoved it in the drawer. The next morning, Mom noticed my lip was still fuzzy.

She didn’t say anything, but she rubbed her lip a few times in a weird way. I couldn’t let know her lesson hadn’t been a success. I pretended I was happy with it.

“I’m gonna let it grow for a bit,” I told her. “Me and Steve are having a contest.”

I think she suspected I was lying but she didn’t press. These days, she had a pretty good sense of when I needed or wanted to work something out on my own. She always subtly let me know she supported me, but she let me figure stuff out.

I hadn’t figured anything out. I just tried to make peace with never learning to groom properly. Maybe I’d look good with a beard? I went to school the next few days and forgot all about the stupid website that had made think for a few minutes that there was some kind of hope for me.

When Saturday arrived, I dug my laptop out of the drawer, having totally forgotten why I had shoved it in there in the first place.

I wanted to check for an email from my pen pal. It had started as a school assignment last year. Some people quit emailing their pen pals as soon as the assignment was complete, but I had kind of made friends with a kid from London, Elliot.

I told him about baseball and he told me about cricket. It was kind of nice to have a friend that didn’t seem to be in competition with me like the other boys at school. I did get a little jealous when he talked about practicing with his dad, but it wasn’t his fault. I never told him my dad wasn’t around anymore.

Nobody knew what to say about it anyway. ‘I’m so sorry.’ ‘You poor thing.’ Blah, blah, blah. Meaningless. I was excited to see that I had a message waiting for me. And confused when I didn’t recognize the sender. Brandon.

I didn’t know anyone by that name. But it didn’t look like spam either. Maybe it was from Elliot’s dad? I checked the domain before opening the message and almost fell off my chair. Rent-a-parent.

My despair triggered application had gone through. I got a little angry again. What, they just needed to hammer home that this was a website for the haves and I was a have not? I clicked on the hateful email just so I could reply and tell them off again.

“Hello Cody,

My name is Brandon and I’m writing to you from Rent-A-Parent in the hopes of making contact with you about your application. First, I need you to understand something. I won’t be charging you for my services.

That just wouldn’t be fair and since I’m a judge, I know all about fair. And unfair. Some things that happen in life just can’t be balanced on the scales of justice. But I have an offer for you.

If you are free Saturday, meet me at the YMCA at 10. If you don’t feel comfortable when you get there, you turn around and walk away, like it never happened. It’s a public space and by 10, there should be plenty of other folks around. I know it might seem strange, unbelievable even, but if you give me this chance, you won’t regret it.

Sincerely,

Brandon ‘Bran’ Johnston

Empath license #25d482A”

I read the letter through a few times. I couldn’t exactly ask anyone else if they thought the website and its ‘parents’ were legitimate. Mom was at work and I couldn’t think of a way to have her verify things without devastating her anyway.

I decided to do it. Mom had taught me about stranger danger until I thought my ears would bleed so I wasn’t going into this totally blind. I reached between my mattress and box springs and brought out my brass knuckles.

They were a secret I’d gotten for myself a few months ago when the bully twins at school had taken an unhealthy interest in Steve. I was too scared of getting caught to take them school and Steve’s issue had been resolved when his Dad had a chat with the principal.

Those two boys were on their third or fourth school already and the day after he visited, they got moved to another school. Or, at the very least, we never saw them again.

The brass knuckles didn’t really fit my hand but I figured they were still my best weapon. Even if I was just holding them in my fist, surely it would make my punch a little stronger. I’d never had a opportunity to try them, maybe today would be that day. And if the Y was deserted, I wouldn’t chance it.

I checked the clock, I had enough time to get there early and check things out. I stuffed the brass in my pocket and grabbed my bike lock.

I couldn’t stop feeling nervous as I walked into the YMCA. It had a big open reception area with drinking fountains and fake plants. A few benches lined the walls and it occurred to me that I didn’t have a pass to go past the reception desk.

Oh well, that might not be happening anyway. I was early. Bran’s bio and picture had been attached to the email so I knew who to look for and he didn’t. Upside, I could bail if he looked creepy. Downside, I would have to approach him if I decided to move forward because he had no idea who I was.

Luckily, Mom had wanted me to be comfortable on my own in public so she regularly had me ask for things when we were out. Like, at the grocery store, I got to pick the lunch meat as soon as I was old enough and brave enough to speak to the deli guy on my own.

There were a handful of folks milling about, but I didn’t see Bran yet. It didn’t take him long to arrive though. He looked a lot like his photo except he was wearing sweats instead of a suit. And his face was scruffy.

He had a small bag slung over his shoulder. I was still wary. I stood and tried to get the brass knuckles with my left hand without anyone noticing while I waved at him with my right.

He walked up to me with no hesitation and offered me his hand to shake. I took it and he pulled me into a hug.

“No need for weapons, young man,” he whispered. Then out loud he said, “it’s so good to see you Cody.”

I was so shocked that he knew, I pulled my arm down and put the knuckles back in my pocket as he released me from the hug. I felt so at ease around him, I didn’t know how to deal with it.

He steered me to the registration desk and checked me in as his guest, a traveling relative. He was so smooth about everything, I just kept going along with him, kind of in a daze.

There were fewer people in the locker room, but I was okay with that. I didn’t want an audience. We went to the far corner of the room and he took a seat on the benches that spanned the spaces between the lockers and the sinks.

He patted the bench and I sat down next to him, not really knowing what to expect. Bran just chatted with me at first. He didn’t look at me, just kind of spoke to the lockers we were staring at. His voice was gentle and it put me at ease.

“My wife can’t have children,” he told me. “I was never sure about it myself so when we married, I thought I was okay with no kids. You know what an empath is?”

I was a little startled by his question and it took me a second to respond, “no, sir.”

“That’s understandable,” he told me. 

Then he explained how he could sense what others were feeling. Some empaths, he told me, can even influence the feelings of others. That made me nervous and I scooted away a few inches.

I didn’t want anyone to have control over me like that. I thought he might be offended but he just laughed. I was lost. He choked off his laugh.

“I’m sorry, Cody, that was rude of me. First, that is a rare gift, one which I do not possess. Second, those who do have it only use it for good, never evil. It’s hard to explain to someone who isn’t an empath, but it would cause them such mental pain, it might even hurt them physically.”

I relaxed a bit and he told me more about what being an empath was and wasn’t. When that topic was exhausted, we finally got to the business at hand.

“I understand you’d like to learn to shave. You sure? Gonna have a good strong mustache pretty soon.”

I swallowed. “Um, no, sir. I mean yes, sir. That is, I really want to shave my face.”

He nodded and we moved to the sinks. He opened a new bag of disposable razors and handed me one, taking one for himself too.

“Normally, I would teach you with a straight razor but I can’t send you home with that. These aren’t great,” he said, indicating the razors we had. “But they’ll do for today.”

Then he showed how he put on his shaving cream and told me why. I copied his movements. The cream tickled my nose. He kept going through each step. Explaining what he was doing and why he did it that way.

I kept following along, surprised at how well it was going. Not that shaving was especially difficult but I had seen all those shows and movies. People with little bits of toilet paper stuck to their face.

I was sure I’d cut myself, but it never happened. Bran drew out two wash cloths and handed me one. We got them good and soaked under the hot water before wringing out the excess. Then we patted our faces to remove any excess shaving cream. Finally, Bran brought out a brand new bottle of aftershave lotion. He put a small amount on my hand and then his.

As he rubbed it around his chin and cheeks he explained, “not all men take the time to do this, but someday you’ll thank for me for getting you started on this habit.”

It smelled a little like menthol and had kind of a soothing effect on my skin.

“Shaving can dry out your skin and this helps it retain moisture. It also reduces irritation.” After a short pause he added, “you’ll get fewer ingrown hairs too.”

I looked at him in question, never having heard the phrase before, I felt a little dumb.

“You can’t know what you haven’t been taught, Cody. Sometimes, the cut hair gets trapped beneath your skin. As it grows, it causes a little disturbance. Which can lead to more irritation the next time you shave.”

“Oh,” I said quietly. “That makes sense.”

Bran clapped his hands. “Now then, we are all clean shaven, do you have a bit more time?” He smacked his lips. “I could go for a milkshake, how ‘bout you?”

I thought it over. Mom wouldn’t be home for a few more hours. He hadn’t done anything that made me the least bit uncomfortable. In fact, I couldn’t be sure he didn’t have that emotional influence thing, making me feel at ease when maybe I shouldn’t. But I just couldn’t bring myself to see him as a liar.

“Okay,” I said. Giving him a genuine smile.

He returned it and we packed up our supplies. The ice cream shop was just up the block. I rode my bike but I went slow so Bran could keep up with me. When we got there, he showed me another way to loop my chain through the wheels, making my bike more secure.

I don’t like chocolate so I got vanilla. Bran ordered a strawberry shake with extra whip cream and we chose a table to wait for our treats. I wasn’t sure what to say but Bran kind of took care of that.

He told me more about his wife and how she was a successful attorney. She’s a public defender, he told me. When I said I didn’t know what that meant, he explained it to me. He didn’t make me feel dumb about it either, the way most adults do.

He told me about finding Rent-A-Parent and how perfect it had been for him. Due to being an empath, he knew his wife felt like adopting would be admitting some kind of failure. He didn’t see it that way, but didn’t want to hurt her. This little side job allowed him to be a parent and his wife was really pleased with the compromise too.

I told him how great my mom was. How she did everything in her power for me. I was pretty red in the face when I told him about her shaving lesson. He laughed again. But it was so warm, it didn’t make me feel bad at all. Pretty soon, I was laughing along with him.

We talked about a few other things and it felt so good to have someone like him to talk to. Mom meant well, but it wasn’t the same. When our shakes were gone, I was both sad this time was ending and guilty about my mom.

What if she found out and it hurt her feelings? Bran was able to guess my thoughts from my emotions I guess because as we walked towards my house he told me not to worry.

 “We can meet again if you like, you just send an email through the website when you need me.”

My mind was so mixed up, I just blurted out, “what about my mom?” focusing on keeping my bike going straight as I pushed it along.

Bran was quiet for a moment and I worried I’d upset him, but I peeked up at his face and he appeared deep in thought instead. He stopped then, so I did too. He turned to face me, all serious like. Then he softened his look with a small smile.

“That is up to you. I’ll tell what I think though, how about that?”

I just nodded.

“I’d like to meet your mother. She sounds like a pretty level headed lady. I think she’ll understand our arrangement.”

That sounded pretty accurate.

“What if she says no?” I asked.

Almost not wanting to know the answer. Adults always had rules that complicated things and I liked how simple today had been. And I never wanted her to think she wasn’t enough. I told Bran as much, worried about his reaction. But he took it in stride.

“It’s a complicated situation to be sure,” he said thoughtfully. “But this isn’t my first time around the block, so to speak. Why don’t you let me worry about that?” he finished with a hopeful smile.

“Um, sure,” I told him, when nothing else came to mind.

I was quiet the rest of the way home, which wasn’t far. Bran asked what time my mom would be home. 

“A little after two, she’s just up the street,” I told him. Only realizing after I said it I might have told him too much.

“I could wait with you,” he suggested.

I was too mixed up to know what to think by that point and I just kept agreeing. We made some sandwiches for lunch. Then he asked if I’d like to play catch. I got the gloves and a ball so fast, you’d think catch was the most exciting activity on earth.

We had such a good time, I forgot all about mom until she pulled into the driveway and I froze, the ball sailing right past my glove. When she took in the scene in her yard, she went red.

The glove dropped off my hand as I just stood there, trying to think how to explain. She was so angry, she couldn’t maintain her temper like she usually did.

She pointed at me and barked, “Cody, get in the house, NOW!”

I didn’t even pause to think, just ran inside and straight to my room. I laid out my emergency phone and laptop. I knew she’d be in to take them from me when she grounded me.

At first, I could hear her yelling at Bran in the yard. He wasn’t shouting like she was so I couldn’t hear his responses. All I knew was that I deserved to be in trouble. I didn’t need some stranger. Why had I done this to her?

But she wasn’t yelling anymore. I couldn’t hear anything for a while. Then I heard the front door open and close and Mom was crying. I almost charged out then but something told me to wait. I was glad I did.

After a few more minutes, she called me out to the living room. Bran was sitting in the big recliner where mom liked to curl up and read. At the moment, she was alone on the couch. She patted the seat next to her, and even though I was really nervous, I sat down. She pulled me into a sideways hug.

“You look so handsome,” she told me, with a bit of a hiccup.

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” I whispered.

She tipped my chin up and her eyes were all shiny like she was going to cry again.

“Don’t apologize to me, Baby. Mr. Johnston has explained everything to me. I couldn’t be more proud of you. Although I’m bit disappointed my shaving lesson wasn’t up to snuff.”

She pretended to be upset about it but now she was smiling in way that crinkled the corners of her eyes so I knew she was really pleased. The three of us chatted a bit more and Mom continued to reassure me that she was really okay with Bran and him being my stand in dad from time to time.

I promised to tell her if wanted to meet up with him again. At that point, Brandon interjected that he would always keep her informed of our meetings but what we talked about would be private. I think that made both of us feel better about everything.

Before Bran left, he asked my mom if it was okay to give me a razor. When she said of course, he drew something else out his bag. It was a shaving kit that all fit into a little pouch. I thanked him as I took it. I couldn’t stop thanking him as he said goodbye and made his way to the door.

After he had gone, mom talked to me some more. She told me Dad had used a straight razor, not like the one I had gotten from Bran.

“Probably better this way,’ she mused. I don’t think you’re ready for a straight razor just yet.”

I had seen Dad’s old razor in her medicine cabinet and figured she was right about that. She asked me more about Rent-A-Parent. And she couldn’t seem to stop asking if there was anything else I needed.

I kept telling her that there wasn’t anything lacking in my life. And I truly meant it. She laughed at my attempt to protect myself and I had to admit, it had been pretty lame. She told me she was glad I had at least thought to try to be safe as I made secret plans to meet up with a stranger.

She didn’t hammer at the point too much, but I got it. We may have been lucky with Bran, but I had to keep my guard up. 

When I graduated High School, Brandon sat with my mom. After the ceremony was over, he handed me a gift.

“I think you’re ready for this now,” he told me. “Get in touch with me when you’re ready to use it,” he said with a playful wink.

I waited to open it until we got home. Mom and I couldn’t stop laughing after I carefully took the straight razor out of its box, letting the light hit its ultra sharp blade. 

I looked up to the ceiling and just said, “thanks, Dad.” I knew he was watching and he’d be proud.