“Do You Have My Belt”
Jan 01, 2020The old man held the baby, staring at the baby’s face. The baby’s cheeks were puffy like a blowfish. His chin creased into multiple chins. He looked like a fat little Buddha. But the frown on his face said he was far from happiness and enlightenment.
The old man was the baby’s great grandfather. The baby was Baby Benji. This was the first time they met. They were comparing notes about the previous year. Great grandfather wanted to return home and be taken care of by his long-estranged ex-wife. Baby Benji wanted to escape the grasp of his mother’s bosom and proclaim his independence. This next year, they promised each other, they would both get what they wanted.
Great grandfather’s pants started slipping down. His old belt finally met its last day, and the button on the pants popped off long ago. Great grandfather also had a belly like a Buddha but his was much older and harder than Baby Benji’s. The old man handed the baby back to his mother and pulled his pants back up.
“Do you have my belt?” he asked no one in particular.
The old man’s daughter and son were visiting for the holidays. The daughter brought her own daughter, Baby Benji’s mother. The old man hadn’t seen any of them for a while, so he was happy they were there now.
“We’ll get you a new belt,” said the son. “But first you have to try on all this clothes we brought you.”
The daughter and son saw how unkempt their father was becoming. He said he didn’t want their charity, that he was doing just fine on his own. He had been on his own for a long time and could take care of himself just as good as the day he left the family home for the last time. Their mother told them father went out for cigarettes and would be back later, but the previous night’s shouting match made them skeptical. It wouldn’t be until years later that they would understand why he never came back from that cigarette run. Years of therapy and drinking and learning to forgive gave the siblings perspective and made them sympathetic. The least they could do at this point was bring their old father some new clothes.
The old man was pulling one of the new shirts over his head. His pants were slipping down again, so he grabbed them with one hand while trying to pull the shirt down.
“It’s too tight,” he said.
The son helped pull the shirt down.
“It looks fine,” said the son. The shirt was almost a perfect fit save for the area that tightened around the old man’s Buddha belly. The son rubbed his father’s belly for good luck.
The old man pulled his pants up high around the waist.
“Do you have my belt?” he said. “This one is broken.”
“We’re gonna get you a new one soon,” said the son.
Baby Benji was smiling up at the old man. The old man bent down and smiled back.
“What a handsome baby,” he said and squeezed Benji’s cheek. Baby Benji cooed and returned to his mother’s bosom.
“Is he your baby?” the old man asked his granddaughter.
“Yes,” she said. “He’s three months old.”
“So big already,” said the old man. “He has a belly like his grandpa.” He let go of his pants and patted his belly to show how big it was. The pants started slipping down again. The son grabbed one of the belt loops before the pants fell too far.
“I got ‘em, pops,” he said.
“Thanks, son,” said the old man. “Do you know where my belt is?”
The son looked at his sister and niece. They all sighed, beaten down by the old man’s worsening condition. It was getting harder with each visit. Baby Benji wouldn’t remember the notes he compared and promises he made to his great grandfather. There would be photographs showing how similar their fat bellies were at opposite ends of their lives. One belly full of hope and wonder, the other full of regrets and disappointment.
“We’ll go buy you a new one now,” said the son and hugged his old man.