wc 808 writing doodle - NaNo

I picked up the phone to make the inevitable phone call to my father.  It was doubtful he'd use those horribly precise words, the taunt that small children use, "I told you so," but his message would be there.

I wasn't prepared to get his voicemail, less so when he didn't return my call until almost dinner time.  I had just sat down to some microwave pizza, it's an acquired taste, and a rootbeer when he called.

"Pumpkin, good news," he said.

"I could use some good news."  Had he won a lottery and was going to share?  Did he sell his business?  Was he finally dating a nice woman?

"It's yours," he said.

"What's mine?" I asked.

"The house.  Your grandmother got and approved Grady's rental application yesterday.  Because it is you two, she was going to either offer a reduction in the rent or recarpet."

I can't tell you which ribs the knife slipped between, but it was long, sharp, and twisting.  Hard. the phone slipped from my hand and hit the floor.  Pity it didn't break.  You know how in the movies, you see flashbacks?  I was in the middle of mine and it felt like I had fallen through a tunnel and was going to wake up on the wrong side of the rabbit hole.

"Bernie?"

I could hardly hear his voice, but knew he was trying to continue the conversation, actually make a conversation for a change.

The chair toppled as I stood to get the phone from the floor.

"Bernie?"

"Yeah, I'm here, Dad." I took a deep breath and sucked the sob back so he wouldn't hear it.  "Which one will give her a better tax break?"

"What?"

"Which one will give her a better break on her taxes?"

"Why should that matter to you?"

"I tried to call you earlier-"

"I know, I was strong arming her when you called."

Why did he have to sound excited?  This was making it so much harder.  Then again, he went to bat for me with my grandmother to help me get what I've said for years I wanted. I took a deep breath.  "Dad, please."

He didn't say anything for about fifteen seconds, my indicator that I needed to talk or we'd have dead air even longer.

"Do I need to kill him?" he asked.  "What has he done to you?"

When I was in high school he used to joke about meeting the boyfriend at the door while he cleaned his shotgun. I did a lot of group dates in high school.  Had he ever met Grady and even talked about plinking and his shotguns, Grady wouldn't have asked for a second date and I might not have been in this situation.  Now I wasn't so sure it had ever been a joke.  "Dad, how do you know it is Grady on the application?"  

"He called the number on the sign out front and talked to Marci.  She recognized the name, met him over the lunch hour to show him the place.  He talked about getting married soon and how the place would be the perfect place to start his new life."

"But he didn't recognize her?"

"No. He said he'd driven by with the fiance and she loved with the location."

I shouldn't have expected Grady would recognize my aunt's name, and it was probably one of those professional signs with the company name on it: Strange Enterprises.  Funny since the only enterprise in the company was this one small bungalow, but if Grandma liked it, it worked for me.  

"So Marci assumed it was me." It was a statement and not a question.  

"He didn't have a lot of credit in his own name, but already had a job lined up when he graduates. That place you've talked about.  You know, where he interns? She said he popped the question this weekend."

Jesus.  Grady had a job after he graduated and I had no idea.  I'd been sweating out his interviews, planned to invest in yet one more man's suit and three more dress shirts, and hoped for multiple offers.  And he already had a fucking job offer.  He'd never breathed a word.  Then again,  I didn't know about the girlfriend either.

This time I couldn't stifle the sob.  "He did."

"Honey, that's-"

"Not me.  He didn't propose to me.  He proposed to someone else, Saturday night." In the same restaurant where I thought he'd propose to me.  The same one he stuck me with the bar tab.  At least I reported the credit card before his dinner with her was over, so unless he had money I didn't know about or access to another credit card, he got to look like a bit of a fool for a few minutes.

"I'll kill the bastard."

"No.  It'd be assault and he'd press charges."  He would, too. I sighed.  "So, which one is better for Grandma? Carpet or the rent?"

"You know, shag is coming back.  I can make sure it is long enough to rake."

I smiled.  Grady had gone on and on about hardwood floors, stainless steel appliances, all the upgrades.  "Can you make sure it is orange or harvest gold?"

"I can do vinyl in harvest gold with avocado accents."

~~

tbc

word count 808