Adventures

With great force they wrestled the helmet from Mr. Malpasso's sandpaper hands. It was the last piece of the costume that he'd made, the outfit that he'd been wearing almost every day for the last fifteen years.

When they finally prised it away from him, he, a sixty-two year old man, bawled like a spoilt toddler, dribbling and elongating with a cartoon like stutter, until it sounded ridiculous, one word: pleee-he-he-he-heease.

They took it out front, with the rest of his hand crafted uniform, and set it on fire. It's for your own good, they said. His daughter, Melody, reminsced to nobody about how embarrassed she was to see her father walking around town dressed like a space pirate or something. Captain Malpasso, her youngest, Stevi, corrected her, but her mother wasn't interested.

Mr. Malpasso didn't want the ceremony, they all thought - his children all thought - that it would be symbolic for him, a liberation both literal and figurative, that it would release him from the trappings of his fantasy. You can live your life again, Dad, his son Ryan had smiled, warmly clapping his old man on the shoulder.


He just sat there, in his favourite chair, letting them bumble around him, tidying things away that didn't need to be tidied. They put this week's tv guide into the magazine rack, meaning he'd only have to fish it out again in a short while. They moved the coasters back into the little coaster holder and straightened the framed photographs on the mantlepiece, thus rendering their careful angling nul and void. Now she didn't look over his shoulder anymore.

Doesn't mum look pretty here, Melody asked rhetorically holding a frame. How old was she?

Melody's husband, Phil, took the picture, turned it over, searching for a clue to the year. Graham, he called, his voice slow and simplified for Mr. Malpasso's presumed benefit, how old is your wife in the picture?

My wife is dead, Mr. Malpasso said flatly.


It had been a month after the funeral when he had first worn the outfit. He had walked into the office to various hushed and muffled responses, a few uncensored laughs, and sat himself at his desk and got on with the tasks at hand. He made his calls, he wrote his reports, all was as normal, except he was dressed in a gaudy, shining diving outfit with a vibrant, mirrored helmet, various pipes and tubes hunched up and into the heavy fabric like the body of a sea monster, there were adornments such as the tassled shoulder pads and some random patches, medals and insignia.

He was called into his manager's office before 11am, and after patiently listening to the inevitable company spiel, Mr. Malpasso very reasonably stated his case and his manager agreed and let him continue to wear the uniform to work.


However when Melody saw her father in the uniform for the first time she burst into tears and batted him away, as if he were riddled with disease, when he tried to comfort her in his arms.

She asked him why he was wearing that stupid costume.

He said it made him feel like everything was ok.

She snuffled up the tears, tried to compose herself and accept it.


It was four years ago, when she overheard her father talking to Stevi that she cried about it again.

Dad's lost his mind, she told Ryan. He was telling Stevi about the planets he'd been to and the creatures he'd met, he was telling her about the greedy lizards who live in the clouds, he was talking about things made of eyes and a rocket ship in his shed. A rocket ship! I just thought he wore that thing like a blankie, a comforter, y'know, but I think he thinks he's actually a spaceman.

Ryan was flippant, said he could tell Dad wasn't nuts just by looking at him. Sure, he dresses like he's from a 1970s sci-fi show, but people wear all sorts of weird stuff, he's not doing any harm.

He was curious though, and later, at dinner, he casually mentioned outer space in conversation. Like, I don't think there's anything out there, he lied.

Out where? his father had asked, lifting his visor to take another bite of chicken.

In space, aliens and stuff.

There are aliens, his dad replied.

What?

Plenty of them, all sorts, more than you can imagine, some like us, some you couldn't comprehend.

How do you know?

I've been there, I've been to space, I've seen the universe.

When did you go there?

I go there all the time.


So Ryan agreed with his sister and they began plotting an intervention, it had been eleven years and the time had long since past that he should be confronted on this. Though he kept the suit clean, patched it up when necessary, the suit was no longer the issue, and clearly, to them, the fantasy had begun to rot his brain.

At first they sat him down and talked to him, they kept repeating; You know it's not real Dad?

Mr. Malpasso would look sheepishly at the ground, a glimmer of recognition they suspected, but he'd smile and square up to them defiantly, It's real, he'd say.


So, after four years of quiet private discussions, unexpected trips to therapists, they finally decided to take the drastic step to destroy the uniform, burn down the source of all this trouble and release their father from his delusion.

When the flames had burned out, and the house had been put in order, they stood in the front room where Mr. Malpasso stared at his dim reflection in the television screen.

Ok Dad, Ryan said, we've put some dinner in the oven, it's heating up, should be done in half an hour. Do you want us to stay or would you rather be alone?

He sat, stoic, only his lip seemed to wobble as if with inaudible words.

Melody, not wanting to leave on a bad note, crouched next to her father, put a hand on his side and smiled up at him. I'll come round tomorrow, ok Dad? Help with some gardening?


Phil tried to listen to the radio, straining his ears to hear the football results under Stevi's sing-songing in the backseat whilst she butted the heads of two plastic ponies together. The car door opened and Melody got in, her eyes were red and she, in hurried, fluttering movements, wept away eager tears.

You ok? Phil asked, one ear still squinting to the tinny howls of the crowd.

He told me that this was a terrible reality.

Who did? Your old man?

Melody nodded, sniffed.

Some thanks, Phil scoffed whilst starting the car. Give him time love, he'll learn to appreciate what you've done for him. 

And they drove home.


Mr. Malpasso tried to go to space again that night, but he couldn't do it without his uniform, he just found himself lying in bed, feeling the sheets too tight around his body, and the space where his wife used to sleep, unoccupied for fourteen years. He wished her goodnight, said her name out loud as he had done all that time ago, and had not done since her death.

Mr. Malpasso didn't go to space that night, but he was no longer part of our terrible reality the following day.