The Argument

         “He’s dead and you can’t replace him,” screamed Trevor with all the angst and fury that a twelve year old could manage. He stood just inside the door of his laundry and magazine littered room staring, as menacingly as his water filled eyes would allow, toward his mother on the other side of the threshold. Samantha looked sadly down at her little boy, fighting back tears of her own.

         “I’m not trying to replace….”

         “Well, he thinks he is,” Trevor shouted as he cut off his mother.

         “No, Trev,” his mother said in a consoling way, “he doesn’t think that at all.” Samantha reached out and gently wiped the tears that were clinging to his cheeks. “We can’t keep having this same argument, sweetie.”

         “Then make him leave, mom,” he pleaded pushing his mother’s hand away.

         “Sweetie, I don’t want him to leave.”

         “I want him to leave!”

         “Hope likes him,” Samantha said as she knelt down to her knees and took his hands into hers.

         “She’s too young to know any better,” Trevor refuted while sniffing back more tears.

         “Trevor, she may only be eight, but she is acting more mature than you are about this whole situation.”

         “I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care! Please, mom,” he tried begging again, “just please make him go away.”

         Tears started to slip from Samantha’s eyes as she replied, “No, Trevor.”

         “Why,” her little boy asked with a quivering lip.

         “I love Simon, honey.”

         “Well I hate Simon,” Trevor retorted snatching his hands from the tender grip of his mother. Reaching for the door he said, “And I hope that he dies just like daddy!” With that piercing comment he slammed the door between his mother and himself.

          She heard the lock click from the other side of the door signaling that once again there would be no resolution to their argument. Looking up she saw the laser printer printout that Trevor kept taped to the outside of his door. A picture of him and his father standing in front of the ocean -- with a fish in each hand and a smile on each face. Samantha’s shoulders began to shake uncontrollably as she allowed the sobs to escape from her.

         On the other side of the door Trevor was lying face down in his pillow crying even more fiercely than his defeated mother. His fist pummeled the top of the football linen covered mattress as he screamed muffled curses. The foot of his bed caught kick after battering kick. He did not understand why his mom would want them to have a new father. He did not know how she could possibly love him. He did not want Simon to be a part of their lives. But most of all Trevor did not comprehend why his father had died.

         As Trevor’s tantrum started to subside he noticed voices coming from just outside of his rock star and fantasy poster clad room. He rolled over to his back in an attempt to better hear what was being said. Perhaps his mother was starting to see his side of things and was telling Simon to leave. Maybe know-it-all Simon realized that he was no good for Trevor’s family and was saying goodbye. Better yet, maybe it was the Army that had come to tell them Simon was a foreign spy and they were going to lock him away forever. Then Trevor would never have to worry about him again. He sat up and leaned toward the door so that he could find out which it was.

         “You can’t force him to like me, Sam,” Trevor heard Simon telling his mother. This was the first time Trevor found himself agreeing with the imposter. Soon Simon would have to realize he had no choice except to leave the three of them alone.

         “Oh, Simon,” his mother said through stifled sobs,”I’m not trying to force him to do anything. I just want him to understand. That’s all.”

         “Well, understanding something like this takes time when you’re his age,” Simon spoke as if he were one of the school counselors,”A lot of time. And unless you’re conceding to him I’m more than willing to give him all the time he needs.”

         “Sometimes I wonder if that’s all it takes,” his mother said with more control over her voice.

         “When my mother remarried I didn’t realize what a great guy Jack was until I was almost through college.”

         Trevor could not believe that he was comparing the two of them. Simon had told him and Hope about his own childhood over dinner one night. It was a pathetic attempt to convince them that he understood how they felt. Simon’s father was an alcoholic, drug addict and his mother had no choice except to leave. He claims that at the time his brothers and he were unaware of their father’s addiction. His mother soon remarried and all of the boys were slow to accept Jack as their stepfather. Their situations were completely different. Trevor’s father was stolen from him and nobody could ever be a better dad.