Robby's Imaginary Muscleman 2: I See Big People
by Londonboy
The room was very cold. I could see my own breath every time I exhaled. I knew I was being watched even though I knew no one else was in the room. Someone sat there staring at me. I could feel that it wasn’t a person that wished me harm, but I was still unable to get a good look at their face or their body. It was also obvious that there was something special about the being that observed me. I felt like a human that’s been abducted by aliens and watched closely – as if under a microscope. The only difference was that the person staring at me didn’t cause me to worry or be frightened, no; they caused me to be shy and withdrawn. I could not put my hand on what the feeling was and then it struck me like a bolt of lightning. I felt unworthy. I felt inadequate in some way. But, in spite of these feelings and in spite of the coldness that filled the room, I was extremely turned on. I felt more alive that I had felt in a long time.
Suddenly I was awake and conscious that I was lying on the sofa in the den downstairs with the New Yorker open across my chest. I had fallen asleep. The wine had obviously caused me to have some kind of bizarre dream. I lay there for a few minutes and let reality seep into my brain. I was suddenly overcome with the same feeling as in my dream – someone was sitting in the room staring at me. I sat up quickly and looked around. No one was there. What the hell was happening to me? If this was what it meant to lose your sanity, then I was determined to beat whatever was taking over. For Robby’s sake I would not allow my mind to disappear.
“Don’t worry. I’m here.”
The voice was clear as a bell. I immediately stood up and looked around the room again. My heart was racing and my adrenaline was kicking in wildly. I was not imagining anything.
“Show yourself,” I said out loud.
Silence surrounded me. I grabbed my head and squeezed tightly. Did I drink that much wine? I looked at my half full glass – knowing it was still my first one. I certainly could hold my liquor better than that. It must be something else, but what? I was still young. I was still fit. I could not be losing my mind. I was just too stressed out. I had been working too hard – on top of being a single dad. I made a decision at that exact moment.
“I deserve a day off,” I said to no one, as if resolved to force myself to relax.
“Yes, you do.”
Again, the voice was very distinct and loud. This time it caused me to jump. I gasped out loud. My body was trembling by this point and I had begun to sweat. I quickly turned out lights and left the den. I moved to upstairs, glancing in on Robby as I passed his room. Seeing my son instantly calmed my uneasiness. He was sound asleep with his thumb in his mouth – a habit I had tried desperately to break, but even I couldn’t control him while he slept. I moved to the rocking chair, my favorite place to sit and watch my son. As soon as I sat down a feeling of deep warmth and some kind of mysterious power overcame my body. The sensation was so intense that it didn’t scare me, as a matter of fact; it caused me to get turned on immediately. My dick was suddenly hard and throbbing. In spite of the incredible feeling, I jumped up and turned to look at the chair. It moved slowly – obviously fueled by my sudden departure – but it also looked inviting and so unbelievably comfortable. I sat back down and let the warm, secure feeling surround me again. I swear the chair rocked without me pushing it. Slowly, I let my body succumb to the rhythm of the chair and I fell asleep. This time there were no dreams; there was only a feeling of deep peace. I slept more soundly than I had in years.
I could feel that Robby was asleep in my lap before I even open my eyes. I let the heartbeat of my son reverberate in my body as we sat there, still rocking slowly where I rested in the chair. I could hear his heavy breathing caused by his deep sleep. I could only imagine Robby waking in the middle of the night and seeing me in the chair in his room – what had he thought? Usually, he came into my room in the middle of the night and joined me in my bed – a habit I knew I should not allow, but I secretly loved it. My son loved the security of his dad – a feeling I somehow connected with on some deep level. It was the exact feeling that presently surrounded us, somehow, in the chair. At first, knowledge of this feeling made me nervous, but in my half-asleep daze I allowed myself to simply rest in that awareness of total peace. Robby’s breathing caused me to fall in and out of sleep for another thirty minutes. Finally, my son began to stir and I knew we would both be up and about very soon.
“Morning, Captain,” I said when he looked up at me.
“Why did you sleep in my room?” he asked, not even taking time to say good morning.
“I fell asleep watching you,” I replied.
“You both did,” he said smiling.
“Both? Who? Charlie?” I asked.
“Yep. He sat right here with you.” Robby answered as he climbed out of my lap. “I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry,” I said teasingly. I stood up and he grabbed my hand, starting to pull me towards the door. Once he was interested in food there was no changing his mind at all. I let the comment about Charlie go at the present moment. I knew it was time to get some food in my child.
While Robby ate some cereal and watched cartoons, I called my office and left a message for my secretary saying that I would be taking the day off. I knew I had an empty schedule and nothing too pressing to deal with. I could envision Margaret smiling as she listened to my voicemail. She had been begging me to take a day off for a while. She was extremely efficient and very protective of both Robby and me. She would certainly cover for me if anyone needed anything. I made a mental note to bring her favorite lemon pastry the next morning as a little thank you. Robby shouted for joy and threw his hands in the air when I told him that I had a surprise for him. He said he hoped it was a pony, but he seemed genuinely happier when I said I was taking the day off and he wouldn’t have to go to Miss Emma’s place. I asked him what he wanted to do, but I knew the answer before he spoke.
“I want to go to the park!” he exclaimed.
Robby always wanted to go to this big park in the middle of our city. There were multiple playgrounds, a few open fields for kite flying, a pond that had powered boats he could steer, and much more. I glanced outside and saw that it was going to be a beautiful day. I knew time at the park would be fantastic for both of us.
“The park it is, then. How about a picnic, some kite-flying, and, of course, much time at the playground.” I replied.
“Two playgrounds,” Robby insisted as he laughed.
“We’ll see you greedy little mister,” I said reaching over to mess up his hair.
“Charlie’s happy, too,” Robby said looking across the table at the empty chair in front of him. I smiled and nodded my head. “He also says don’t shave.”
“What?” I asked glancing back to my son after having turned to look at the headlines of the paper on the table.
“Charlie likes your scruffy look,” he answered, looking back at the cartoons on the television. I knew the reason Robby was telling me this was because he thought shaving would delay our departure, but it still sounded nice – having a boyfriend that liked me even with my morning hair and morning stubble. Dennis had always been concerned with how I looked – at all times and he didn’t hesitate to critique.
“Well, I’m beginning to like this Charlie more and more,” I said taking our bowls to the sink. “Why don’t you go brush your teeth and change clothes. I’ll put a few things in the picnic basket and then take a quick shower.”
“Yippee!” My enthusiastic son screamed as he jumped down from the chair and ran from the room, adding, “Charlie says to make sure to bring some vegeetubles cause they make him stronger!”
This comment caught me off guard. Robby did not like any vegetables. I could not believe he wanted me to include them for our picnic. I guessed it was something he had noticed in the magazines that had been under my bed. Maybe there had been an ad where some big guy was eating something green. I made a mental note to use Charlie’s words the next time I was trying to get my son to eat carrots or broccoli. I still loved the fact that Robby could not clearly say some words – like vegetables – it seemed to keep him the little boy I wanted him to remain. I grabbed a pack of carrots and some raw celery with the hope that Robby might choose this over crackers. I knew, deep down, there was a fat chance of that, though. I finished packing our picnic basket, pulled a blanket and the kite from a closet, and then went to take a quick shower. As I passed by Robby’s room I heard him talking, so I stood out of sight to listen for a while.
“He’s gonna like you. Cause you’re big and really strong. I promise. You can help…” Robby stepped into his closet and I missed a little of what he said next. I moved closer to the edge of the door and heard him struggling to put on a shirt. “Yeah, you should do that.” I could hear that he had moved back into the room, so I stepped a few feet back down the hall.
“I’ll come in to tie your shoes in a sec, buddy,” I cried out, acting as if I was just coming upstairs. “I’m just going to take a quick shower.”
“Charlie tied ‘em,” he yelled back. I laughed at that thought and knew that my son had tried to tie his tennis shoes by himself again. Last time they had ended up a big jumble of knots. I knew it would take me a few minutes to straighten them out. I stepped into his room and saw him standing in the center. He was dressed smartly in a pullover yellow polo shirt and a pair of blue-red plaid shorts. I glanced down at his feet – not only were his shoes on the right feet, but they were also tied in perfect bows. My mouth dropped open and I simply stared at this Stepford child in front of me. I looked at his smiling face and noticed that even his hair was combed.
“Who are you? And how did you tie those shoes?” I asked amazed.
“I didn’t tie them. Charlie did. And I’m Robby,” he said walking past me into the hallway, headed downstairs. I knew he wanted to watch more cartoons – at least until the moment it was time to leave. “Please hurry and take your shower. Charlie’s ready to go.”
I quickly stepped into the hall. I was so surprised by everything that had just happened that my good parenting skills had gone away. I called out to him before he started down the stairs.
“Robby. I didn’t know you knew how to tie your shoes. That’s great. And you look really good.” I was still shocked by my little man.
“I told you - Charlie tied my shoes,” he said looking at me like I was deaf.
“Hey, Robby, you know that I can’t see Charlie, right?” I said this before I could filter my thoughts. I can’t explain the feelings that were twirling around my head – jealousy of his imaginary friend, bewilderment at my son’s new skills, and surprise that he hadn’t told me what he could do.
“Not yet, dad, not yet,” he said simply and turned, jumping down the stairs two at a time.
My quick shower gave me time to sort through the confusion caused by my son’s imaginary friend. I knew, instinctively, that it was totally acceptable and healthy for kids to have someone that they could share intimate secrets with – even if that person wasn’t real. I also realized it was difficult on my son to only have one parent. Again, I felt unresolved anger at Dennis rear its ugly head in my heart. I needed to allow Robby to develop his friendship with “Charlie” without any feelings of guilt or shame. I was happy that I retained a little knowledge from my adolescent pysch class in college. I struggled; however, to understand Robby’s need to make Charlie some big guy that might make me happy. Was it possible that I projected my lust for bodybuilders to my son without even knowing it? Sure, some of my friends – who were also his friends – were well built, but they were not love interests. I began to worry that Robby had noticed I tended to stare at big guys when we were out in public. There were a few other dads at his daycare that were huge and maybe he could sense how I changed when I was around them. I made a mental note that from now on I would not let some guy’s big muscles capture my attention so easily. Oh, who was I kidding? That was not possible. I also felt like it wasn’t unhealthy for my son to know the type of man I was attracted to – mainly because I was sure he didn’t fully get what it meant when adults were in relationships. By the time I joined Robby downstairs I had decided that I would treat Charlie as a member of the family – mainly because the idea of some big muscular guy looking out for my son somehow made me very happy. I was sure I also hoped Charlie was looking out for me, as well.
The park was only slightly empty for such a beautiful work day. Robby wanted to go to his favorite playground first and we both knew we’d be there for a while. I knew my son’s routine as well as he did. We would begin with a quick trip down the slide, a quick bounce on the see-saw balanced on a giant spring in the ground, and then head toward the imitation tire-swing in the center of many other different swing sets - off to one side of the playground. My son followed the pattern perfectly, but we were both disappointed to find that the metal structure that held up the tire-swing had been partially pulled from the cement blocks that held it. Two of the four poles were slightly in the air and bent. I imagined a group of older kids piling as many people as possible on the tire and their weight causing the poles of the structure to be ripped from where it rested. I anticipated my son to be very sad that he couldn’t play on his favorite piece of equipment.
“Sorry, Captain. It looks like the swing is out of order. I think someone broke it,” I said glancing down at my boy.
“That’s okay.” Robby replied, as he looked up at me, “Charlie will fix it. Let’s go to the jungle gym.” With that, he tore out across the big sand pit to the climbing structure across the play area.
I’m sure my mouth was wide open from the shock of his response. I laughed a little at how easily he had recovered from this setback and started out after him. I glanced around and saw other adults helping their kids swing, climb, and explore parts of the play area. I, of course, scouted out the eight to ten dads that were there, checking to see if they met my definition of “yummy.” As usual, almost all of them appeared to be not only devastatingly handsome, but undeniably straight, as well. I immediately reminded myself of my decision to not be caught by my son staring at other men. I turned back to Robby and saw that he was already halfway up the dome-like metal structure that seemed like a perfect place for some young kid to have an accident. I seemed to remember a movie where Dustin Hoffman watches his son fall from a similar formation and he has to carry him to the nearby hospital. This thought made me sprint quickly to where Robby was climbing.
“Not too high, Robby. You’re going to make me nervous,” I said, trying not to actually let on how scared I really was.
“To the top, dad!” He exclaimed as he looked back towards me.
“Only if I can come, too,” I replied. I then climbed next to him and we traveled together to the top. Robby sat at the apex of the structure and looked out over the playground, as if he was surveying his kingdom. I sort of leaned on the structure, bending my body to the curve of the metal bars.
“Charlie fixed the swing,” Robby said after a couple of minutes and he began to climb down. My need to have my hand at his back, as he turned around to make his descent, made me ignore his comment. Why was it that the trip down from the structure seemed so much more dangerous than the trip up? When he was about a foot from the ground Robby turned to me, saying, “I can do it dad.”
My son was emphasizing a point that would probably take me a lifetime to learn. There would always come moments when Robby would need me to let go and let him do something by himself. I moved my hand from his back and watched as he jumped from his spot to the soft sand below. He then began to run in the direction of the swing sets. I jumped down, as well, and hurried after him. I was sure he was going to be sad that he couldn’t go on the tire swing, but I knew we’d find other stuff to do.
“Robby, wait for me,” I called after him. I did not want him to get on the swing with it not being secure. My son listened to me and stopped – standing next to the metal bars that held up the swing. He turned to look at me, as I got closer.
As I reached his side my mouth fell open for the second time since we had arrived at the park. I glanced down and saw that the poles of the swing were now secure in the cement blocks below. I bent down to look closer. It didn’t seem to be a great job, but the poles were buried deep in the blocks. As a matter of fact it looked as if the poles had somehow been thrust into the concrete so hard that the force of the blow had actually created the holes – and not some drill or other machine. There were a few cracks around the new holes and I saw a few chips of concrete scattered on the ground. I took a quick look around the place to see if I could see park rangers or workmen – anyone that might have done the job. I wanted to make sure it was safe. There were only parents and their children scattered around the area. I looked back at the poles in the ground, reaching out to grab one and shake it. The thing didn’t budge. It was certainly buried in the concrete tightly and could have easily held up a group of adults swinging on the tire. My eyes turned to look where my hand gripped the pole because I felt something strange – as if the pole had been dented somehow. I moved my hand and could have sworn I saw indentions that resembled fingers. I looked across to the other pole and saw the same kind of markings – just slightly lower than this side. I blinked a few times and tried to picture the tool that had been used to grab these things hard enough to slam them into the concrete. It didn’t really matter, though, because Robby had already climbed on the tire and was begging me to push him. I turned to my son and obliged. For the next fifteen minutes his favorite word became “again.” I would send the tire spinning around and then push it back and forth, like it was a ride at an amusement park. Robby didn’t care how fast it spun or how hard I pushed him – he just wanted me to do it over and over. I was beginning to get a little dizzy just watching him. Finally, he announced it was time for some kite flying. I stopped the swing, he jumped down, and we both turned to head towards the car. I suddenly remembered the indentions on the poles and glanced at them one last time before we walked away. I still could not believe I had failed to notice the workmen as they fixed the swing set – or the machine they used.
We got in the car and drove to the open field where people either flew kites or had a picnic. We planned on doing both, along with taking our required afternoon nap. Before we flew the kite I insisted that we both put on a little sunscreen. Robby hated this and only allowed me to apply it to his face, neck, and arms after I promised to reward him with an Oreo cookie. I rewarded myself with one, as well. I was impressed that Robby stayed interested in flying the kite for almost forty-five minutes. Usually he was done with it after it fell to the ground the first time.
Once we had spread out the blanket, I pulled out the food for lunch. To my utter amazement, Robby grabbed a couple of carrots first and started chomping on them. I could tell he loved the noise they made. As if to shock me even more, he then took a celery stalk and did the same with it. He noticed I was looking at him strangely.
“What?” he asked with a mouth full of celery.
“Who are you and what have you done with my Captain Robby? Since when did you eat vegetables?” I asked, forcing myself to not mispronounce the word like Robby did – even though I loved how it sounded. I needed to reinforce the correct pronunciation.
“Charlie says they’ll make me big like him,” Robby replied after grabbing another carrot.
“Charlie sounds really smart,” I said.
“And strong.” Robby added.
“Yeah?” I asked and then said, “Even stronger than your old man here?” I lifted my arms in what I knew was a double biceps pose, but Robby probably thought it was just plain stupid looking.
“His arms are way bigger,” my son said, deflating my bravado. “He fixed the tire swing, didn’t he? Can I have my ‘nut and jelly sandwich?” Ever since he was two years old, this was what he called his favorite sandwich. I handed him half of one with the crust cut off, just as he liked it. His comment about my arms being small hurt my ego a little and I didn’t think about what I was saying before it came out.
“It sounds like you like Charlie more than me,” I muttered, sounding sad.
“Naw, I just have to make sure he’s good ‘nuff for you,” Robby replied as I reached over to wipe grape jelly from his cheek. His answer filled my heart with joy.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, young man,” I said, reminding him of something we were working on, but also to cover up how his remark made me happy. He quickly swallowed.
“Yes sir,” he said smiling. I could tell he was trying hard to remember all the new rules that came with getting older. My little man wanted to make his dad proud. He also seemed intent on finding me a mate – and one that I approved of.
A little later we were lying on the blanket with our heads together looking up at the sky. We were pointing to clouds and naming what they looked like. I was amazed at how Robby saw creative things in the different formations. I wondered if he would be some kind of artist when he grew older.
“Hey dad?” he said, making sure I knew it was a question.
“Yes, Captain,” I replied.
“Ya know how I can see big Charlie and you can’t,” he added tentatively.
“Uh huh,” I said, wondering where this was headed. I knew I needed to tread lightly so he would feel no judgment in my comments.
“It’s ‘cause I want him. You gotta want him too. You gotta want him a lot. Okay?” came the quick reply from my son.
“Okay, Captain,” I said after a short pause. His words had cut into my deepest self. I knew exactly what he meant. My young son’s intuition told him that I didn’t really trust other men anymore. My five year old was worried that his dad’s heart could not bear any more pain caused by people who disappointed him. A tear formed at the corner of my eye and made its way down the side of my face. Something opened inside of me at that moment – and I made a promise that, for my son’s sake, I would begin the long journey back to the living. I would not hide behind my work and my duties as a father anymore. I would try to open myself to love again. As these thoughts passed through my mind two things happened, my son’s breathing became hard, signifying he had fallen asleep, and a cloud passed overhead that resembled a man’s big flexed arm perfectly.