Deductive Reasoning

The world seemed so big and full of possibilities for me on that first day in February of 1995. Mrs. Hall was about to introduce our fifth grade class to the exciting world of long division. Most of the kids in my class were dreading the math lesson after our lunchtime, but I was sweating in anticipation. 1

Unlike the bulk of the pre-pubescent world, I claimed math as my favorite subject as a child. The ability to learn something my 30-year-old mother and father couldn’t figure out was better than seeing their faces when I lied about almost burning down the house and blaming it on my older brother. Learning long division was just icing on the cake.2

********************3

My parents had gotten a divorce when I was only three years old. The only memory I have of my father sleeping in the same house as my mother was one night when I did something wrong, and I knew I was in trouble once Daddy came home from work. 4

It was about ten o’clock at night and I was lying in bed with my two older brothers, dreaming I was a Thundercat. I heard my daddy’s dirty, steel-toed boots walk in the front door, stomping the dried mud off as he locked the door behind him, letting out a sigh of relief showing his fatigue from the relentless work day. I jumped out of my dream, knowing that a spanking was coming my way. My mother’s soft voice was telling the story to my father about how I hit one of my brothers in his privates while we were playing on the playground. My brother deserved it and he knew it. Unfortunately, my mom just saw me kicking him with all my force—not seeing the events which led up to it. My bedroom door creaked open with sounds straight out of a cheesy horror movie. Pretending my father was the boogeyman, I took the approach that if I hid under the covers, he wouldn’t be able to find me. My mom had always told me that I was a bright child, but this idea proved that she was lying.5

“Adam! You better quit hiding, boy! I’m gonna whoop that ass!”6

“No daddy, no! I didn’t do it. I promise!”7

“You better move those hands, boy!”8

WHACK! 9

WHACK!10

“Now Adam, what you did was wrong. You’ve got to quit doing what you’re doing. Now, go to bed. I love you.”11

At the time, my tears were my physical proof that I hated my father. Yet, even today, when I lay under my covers at night, I still wish I was able to hear daddy come in, tired from work, ready to do nothing but eat some supper, and just walk in my room and say goodnight.12

***********************13

It was finally 3:05 in the afternoon; it was time to say goodbye to 5th grade for the day; school was out. It was time to pack up my things, say goodbye to my beautiful girlfriend, Leigh Anne, who meant nothing more to me at the time than a present on my birthday, Christmas, and Valentine’s Day. Everything was so simple. There was a slight chill in the air; the February winds were blowing over my husky body, helping me remember the reason why I loved winter so much. I hopped on that dusty old school bus, eager to get home and get started on my 20 problems of long division. The school bus let me and my brother off at the end of our road. Clouds were painted all throughout the sky and the sun was shining right down on top of me. I didn’t care how girly I looked to my older brother, but I felt like skipping all the way back to the house. My step-dad’s white Isuzu truck was in the driveway. After homework, I was sure he would want to play basketball or throw the baseball around with me. I walked into the house, with the surprise of the phone ringing almost immediately as I shut the door behind me. Yes! Answering the telephone was like opening a Christmas present as a kid. 14

“Hello,” I said cheerily.15

“Adam, it’s Sandra, is your mother home?” My step-mom had a slight sadness in her voice. It seemed odd to me as to why she was calling at such a strange hour of the day. What also seemed weird was that she never called our house; it was always my daddy who called. 16

“No mam, Tommy is, do you want to talk to him?”17

I dropped the phone, with a slight sense of bewilderment, but not enough that made me care, and went to my room to get to work on my homework.18

********************19

Five days out of every month was the amount of time I got to spend with my daddy. He lived two hours away with my step-mom, Sandra, and my older step-sister, Tracy. They always went to church on Sunday mornings, which completely bored the hell out of me. We were always told to go do stuff outside, and not to be kids that stayed in the house. Their house seemed more like a friend’s house I would go stay the weekend. It never really felt to me like my parent’s house—a place that I could actually call home. At least once a month, it was my goal to be able to talk my way out of having to go see my daddy.20

“Hey, Daddy. It’s Adam.”21

“Hey boy, what are you doing?”22

“I’m not feeling too good. My stomach hurts real bad. I don’t think I’m going to be able to come to Arkadelphia tonight, but Justin will.”23

“Alright, son, well I love you and I miss you.”24

“Love you too, daddy.”25

I had just lied to my daddy so that I didn’t have to go see him. It would be nice to be able to call him one more time just to hear his voice.26

********************27

I did my math homework first. It was like eating ice cream before having to eat the next random type of hamburger helper mom was making us eat that night. The rest of the subjects, spelling, English, and reading, were all done as well. I was so caught up in my blissful world of doing homework, I never even heard my mom open the door. “Boys,” calling to me and my brother in our room, “come in here; I need to talk to you.” Nothing was going to ruin this day. I had conquered long division! My brother followed behind me as I ran into my mother’s room, eagerly awaiting whatever message she was about to give. My ten-year-old blue eyes were glued on my mom as she looked at me with a single tear falling down from her eyes that looked like they had been soaked in tears earlier. “Boys, today your daddy was working on a tower, and he fell down. Your daddy was killed.”28

********************29

When I was 17, I attended a summer camp in Oklahoma geared towards students who were interested in the Math and Science fields, or as my brother referred to it, “faggot camp.” We were given the opportunity to intern at different departments in the local hospital. I was as excited as any of us students could possibly be; I had been given the opportunity to intern in the Emergency Room for the first few hours in the morning. There was just something about the ER that seemed more intriguing to me then working in the physical therapy division or the nursery.30

Ada, Oklahoma was a small college town. Its population was probably 15,000 at most. This never occurred to me at the time, but within the first hour of being in the ER, I realized that there are probably not a lot of emergencies happening on a Monday morning.31

“Did you watch All My Children last night, Andrea?” asked a nurse, with huge billowy red hair, and a case of halitosis that could kill someone.32

“Oh my God, girl! YES! I couldn’t believe what Haley did!”33

This was going to be the absolutely longest day of my life.34

Out of nowhere, a call came in over the radio, sirens blaring in the background, and an EMT saying, “We have a male, 6-foot-2, around 275 pounds, unconscious in cardiac arrest. We’re about 10 minutes away from the hospital. We’ll continue trying to revive him.”35

This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind to stop the horrible soap opera conversation, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thankful. The nurse explained to me in detail what was going on, and began telling me what I was probably about to see. She kept asking me, “Do you want to see this?” I was a 17 year old male who at the time wanted to get into the medical field; of course I wanted to see this. I’d been waiting for this the entire morning! 36

I went and put on a lab coat, face mask, and those blue little covers over my tennis shoes. The ambulance’s sirens were deafening in my ears. The action was about to get started.37

A huge man, grotesquely purple and swollen, was rolled through the sliding doors by the EMT’s, with the patient’s family, crying profusely, following close behind. They rushed the male into a room, and I just stood there not knowing what to do. The nurse came back out, and said, “Adam, are you sure you want to see this? If so, come with me.” I wanted to smile because I was about to finally see something quite extraordinary, but I knew not to show it because of the situation. I walked enthusiastically to that room, only to behold a stranger getting his chest pushed on over and over again, shocked repeatedly, and lifeless eyes that stared at me. When I stood there, a little dose of reality finally snuck into that crowded room, reminding me of my father. Five minutes passed, and the doctor finally called the resuscitation off. I had just seen a man die right in front of me. It never really occurred to me how I might react if this man didn’t survive. I put my emotions on the backburner for the sake of learning. After the doctor read the time and covered the body, I was walked back into the area of the emergency room where the nurses were all jabbering about their soap operas. The only thing I remember feeling was complete numbness. This man had just died in front of me, and his wife and two children had just lost a husband and a father. All I could do was sit there, staring in disbelief, with thoughts how I was that man’s young child only a few years before.38

********************39

Ten years old and fatherless—everything I knew in the world was gone. It has been almost 12 years since the day I felt God had failed me. I’ve grown up in a way most people my age would have no knowledge of understanding— having a childhood without a parent. There have been times when I’ve cursed the world because it chose me to become the unlikely child that must grow up without a father. There have been things that I’ve dealt with on my own that I’m sure my daddy would’ve been able to help me with, but I was forced to deal with them on my own. To this day, I would be a fool to tell myself I haven’t turned out alright. I am able to speak about my father and my memories of him—something my two older brothers still cannot do. When people ask me how his death has affected me, I try and look for some huge example as to how I’ve been affected, but am always left with just saying the normal things on how it’s like not to be able to see your father ever again. However, just the other day, something happened which totally gave me the answer to this question in ways I never imagined. I was trying to figure out a grade in one of my classes, and realized I had left my calculator at home. Within a few seconds, I realized that I had just forgotten how to do long division.40