FICTION STIMULUS: It’s a year later and Charlie opens his front door to find his father standing there? What happens next? (Based off CHeever's 'Reunion')

I remember walking back from work one time and seeing a dad and his son reunited.

Most days that mountain of paperwork whittles me down so that I never take the time to look around me. I just bow my head on the subway and scuttle along the sidewalk back to my kids. Today though, the block of flats I normally pass by had the ambience of cars and occasional clatter punctured by a gruff cry of "Champ!"
I jumped at this and wheeled round in the direction of the bellowing man. Who wouldn't? Something so loud yet simultaneously friendly-sounding in New York would be shocking to any native.

A large man across the street had made an attempt to embrace a young gentleman in the door frame. The former was in a crumpled tweed suit, which I was suddenly glad I wasn't too close to. I knew some people who wore similar clothes. They tended not to be people you wanted to hang out around. The gentleman was in casual wear, some simple suit trousers and a tank top. He was fit too. Roughly between 19 or 20. He'd clearly kept himself as neat as he could on what little he had.

Despite the contrast, I knew they were Father and Son.

Maybe that's why I stayed and saw more than I should.

The large man stumbled backwards. I thought maybe the gentleman had pushed him back, but he didn't seem to move a muscle. The sun was low in the sky behind me, so I could see him clearly. His lip had curled a little and his brow was held low. I'd only seen a look like that once before: when my wife had walked out.

"It's been too long champ! How the rubbish are you lad?"

A pause.

"Are... You are well I take it."

The ambience of New York life passing them by was his answer.

The large man was stammering now, but the words still came out as a half shout. "Sti-Still plugging away at the off... office I don't doub-t!"

"I'm at College dad." The words came out like the biting disapproval of a lecturer correcting a mistake. I winced.

"Hah... Well you could have fool-f... fooled me! I... uh..." He paused. I realised he was swaying on the spot, and at that point I almost felt sick. I knew this was a train wreck in motion, but I stood glued. An unsettling need for spectacle had taken hold.

After a while, the large one spoke again. His grasp of speech seemed to be slipping. "Lll-look son... I uh... I know-w that... LAST time... last time wasn't eggs-eggactly the... hmm... the best time. But come on!" He clapped the gentleman on the shoulder. "We can't let a few... ARSEwipes ruin wh-wha-what we have!"

The gentleman slapped the large ones hand off his shoulder. Just a slap, but it sent him nearly stumbling off the side of the steps. "You still don't get it do you?"

"Well!" The large one started booming again. He seemed to be better at speaking when he was the only one who could be heard. "You think I need your approval? You think I need your ungrateful arse to be who I am? Fuck you! You'll be sorry you illegitimate pencil pushing son of a hooker!"

"Goodbye father."

The door slammed, leaving the poor son of a bitch and I alone in the street. The light was dying fast, and I was almost ashamed of myself for leaving my kids at home for so long.

"What are you looking at?" he jeered at me, and now I could see his eyes were bloodshot, and his beard had flecks of... stuff in it. "You gonna have a joke about me with your two-faced wanker friends? I should come over there and... just fuck off will you?!"

I looked down at myself and saw the two small splashes on the stone pavement. I had shed some tears for these two poor souls. I knew there wasn't a damn thing I could do. That would be the last time that this kid would ever see his father.