In a Tel-Aviv writing workshop I became friendly with another aspiring writer who, it turned out, lived two streets away from mine. Proximity and vocation synergized to cement our friendship. We commented – politely—on each other’s work, as well as that of the others in the group. We both were practioners of the soft criticism school, as opposed to some in the group who favored a hard-line approach to stimulate writing improvement.
I am both partial to and particular about angora sweaters. I like to wear them without a bra. I imagine that is what it would feel like to press my breasts against a hairy chest. I am obsessed with hairy chested men, and it all started with Burt Reynolds in Cannonball Run. I was 9 when I saw the movie on TV one Saturday afternoon. I’ve been a Reynolds and hairy chest fanatic ever since. Even when I go out dancing with the girls, I go braless in my angora. Once I braved going braless to work. While I found it liberating, it was also distracting.
The following 911 transcripts were recorded between Thursday, March 17th and Friday, August 8th, 2016. Out of respect for the deceased, the victims’ names have been concealed. All suspects in the East of East Apartment murders remain at large and are considered armed and highly dangerous.
Thursday, March 17th. 11:30 A.M.
Dispatch…911 Dispatch, what is your emergency?
Caller…Hello, can you hear me? I’m trying to reach 911.
Dispatch…Yes sir, I can hear you. What is your emergency?
Caller…Thank god you’re there. I’d like to report a crime. There’s a bunch of kids on my apartment lawn right now smoking weed. I can smell it coming through my goddamn window. I swear, I tell you I’m tired of this shit.
(Muffled Shouting) I’ve called 911 you little punks. You hear that! The cops are coming.
Dispatch…Sir, what is your current location? Are you calling from the corner of 16th and Detroit?
Caller…16th and Detroit…how do you know where I’m calling from? Never mind. Listen, these goddamn kids are trashing my lawn and smoking weed right in the open. I’m no square, but a man can only put up with so much. I was in Vietnam damn it. I’m a veteran. I shouldn’t have to deal with this shit.
Dispatch…OK sir…Thank you for calling. I see your apartment is located next to East High School. I’ve radioed the Campus Liaison Officer and informed him of your complaint. The officer should be arriving shortly. I will stay on the line with you until he gets there, but until then is there anything else I can do?
Caller…Anything else you can do? You’re god damned right there’s something else you can do. You think this is the first time these kids have been over here? I’ve already complained to the Principal at East, and to that Liaison Officer a half-a-dozen times. Your Officer, that rent-a-cop fat ass, he can’t do jack shit about these kids. Why do you think I called 911 in the first place?
(Heavy Breathing)
Dispatch…Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to calm down. The Campus Liaison Officer is a regular member of the Denver Police Department. He will be able to offer the same services that any other officer could. Besides, when we can, we try to handle issues with East High School with our officers who…
Caller…Listen here damn it, that’s not good enough. These kids have that cop wrapped around their fingers. Why do you think they keep coming back to my building? They know that nothing will happen to them, that’s why! Call another cop, please, I’m begging you. I’m at my wit’s end here.
Dispatch…Sir, if you have an issue with the Liaison Officer you’re going to need to file a complaint at your precinct, but to be honest, students smoking marijuana during their lunch break doesn’t really qualify as an emergency. If you want something done about these kids you’re going to need to find another way to get this situation resolved.
Sir, my computer is showing that the officer is arriving right now. Is there anything else I can do?
Caller…No, you’ve done enough. Guess these days an old veteran doesn’t count for shit. But you better believe I’m going to file a complaint if nothing happens, and if I have to call 911 again, I want something done.
Dispatch…Thank you for calling sir. Have a nice day.
Call Ended
Saturday, March 19th. 5:42 P.M.
Dispatch…911, what is your emergency?
Caller…Hello, I’d like to report a crime. I’m being harassed, and I don’t feel like I deserve to be intimidated. This is goddamn harassment, well, that’s what it feels like. Hell, I’m not really sure what you call it.
Dispatch…Sir, I see that you are located on the corner of 16th and Detroit. Is that location correct?
Caller…Yes, that’s correct. I called a couple of days ago and spoke to some woman about a complaint I had. You see, that’s why I’m calling. Two days ago when I called it was about some kids who were smoking weed on my lawn. Well, I didn’t believe your dispatcher, but when the Liaison Officer arrived he finally did something. He arrested one of those punks and the rest scattered. But you see, that’s when my problems started.
Dispatch…Sir, are you in immediate danger or experiencing medical distress? 911 is reserved for emergencies. Are you currently in danger?
Caller…Danger, well, no, I wouldn’t call it danger. It’s just that ever since I called 911, those kids won’t leave me alone. I’m looking out my front window right now, hell, it’s every time I look out my window. Every time I look out there one of those kids is waiting. They aren’t smoking weed anymore, but you can bet your ass that ever since I called one of them has been out there…Creepy little pricks staring up at my window.
Dispatch…Sir, if you are not in danger and you are not having a medical emergency then I am going to transfer you to our non-emergency line. If you would like to file a complaint an officer will be glad to come by and assist you, but if there is nothing else that I can help you with I’m going to transfer your call.
Caller…I’m sorry, maybe 911 wasn’t the right number to call. It’s just that these kids have been outside my apartment ever since I called, and I’m not just talking school hours. I woke up late the other night to take a piss, but when I peaked out my window one of them was there. It was the kid who the cop arrested, but when he saw me, all he did was stare. I guess they’ve been getting to me, so if you wouldn’t mind, could you please transfer me. I need these kids to know that I ‘m not going to let them walk all over me.
Dispatch…I understand sir, I’m sure that was an unsettling sight. I’ll transfer you right now and you can see about filing a restraining order. Perhaps this is just kids being kids, but make sure that you follow through so that they don’t cause you any more grief.
Caller…Thank you sir, thank you so much. I really do appreciate it.
Call Ended
Tuesday, March 22nd. 1:47 A.M.
Dispatch…911, what is your emergency?
Caller…Hello, I live at the corner of 16th and Detroit, in the apartment building East of East. Someone just threw a rock through my window.
(Muffled) Jesus Christ…
Listen, there’s glass everywhere. It’s all over my couch, on my carpet. They damn near took out my whole window. I can’t believe I’m dealing with this shit.
Dispatch…Sir, are you injured? I’ve put out a call for the nearest officer and he should be arriving soon. An ambulance is also on its way, but if you are hurt any details you could provide will help prepare the paramedics.
Caller…No, no mam, I’m not hurt. Just a little rattled. Let me put some slippers on so I don’t cut myself. I’m going to look outside and see if they’re still here.
Dispatch…Sir, please be careful. An officer will be arriving shortly. If there is someone outside your apartment you shouldn’t approach them. Please wait for the officer.
Caller…(Muffled Yelling) I see you, you little prick. Why don’t you come up here and face me like a man?
Hello, are you still there? How close is that cop? One of those little bastards is still outside. If your officer gets here soon I can describe him. He has a hood over his face, but he’s wearing a grey sweatshirt and black pants.
Dispatch…Sir, please be careful. Whoever threw the rock might be armed. Officers are only minutes away. Please wait until they arrive.
Caller…Wait, hold on. I think I hear something. Oh thank God, I hear sirens. Thank you very much. We’re going to put an end to this shit tonight.
Call Ended.
Friday, March 25th, 2:15 P.M.
Dispatch…911, what is your emergency?
Caller…Hello, I’m calling from the corner of 16th and Detroit, from the East of East Apartment building. I’m calling from my neighbor’s place, from apartment 305. I just went out grocery shopping, but when I got back there was a rabbit nailed to my door. Holy shit, I think I’m going to be sick.
(Soft Sobbing)
Dispatch…O.K Sir, I’ve put out a call for response. An officer should be arriving soon. Please stay inside your neighbor’s apartment. There might be someone inside your home. Sir, besides the rabbit, is anyone else experiencing medical symptoms?
Caller…No, no medical symptoms if you don’t count my stomach. They filleted that poor little rabbit, the sick fucks. Its guts are dribbling down my door. I’m losing my mind over here.
(Soft Sobbing)
I’m losing it. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
Dispatch…Sir, please make sure you are sitting down. It looks like officers should be arriving shortly. My records indicate that this is not your first call. It looks like a group of students have been harassing you and you recently filed a restraining order? Is that correct?
Caller…Yes, I did file a restraining order, it’s just not making any difference. The one kid they arrested, he has to stay at least one hundred feet away from my building, but that doesn’t take care of the rest. Those damn kids are acting like a pack of animals.
(Sniffling)
The one kid hasn’t talked, so without a list of names they can’t pin this to anyone else. At this point I just wish I would’ve never called 911. I was just trying to make a point.
Dispatch…Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, have you considered moving? Unfortunately living that close to the high school means that you are going to have to continue dealing with students, but if you moved…
(Loud Knocking)
Sir, it sounds like the police have arrived. Consider what I said about moving, it might be the simplest answer to your problem.
(Shouting) Denver Police. Please open the door.
Caller…(Sniffling) Thank you, thank you so much. I just hope this ends.
Call Ended
Tuesday, March 29th. 4:37 A.M.
Dispatch…911, what is your emergency?
Caller…Hello, I’m calling to report a fire. My front lawn is on fire right now. I live at 1611 Detroit, in the East of East apartment building. I live on the ground floor and the fire is right outside my living room window. Please, we need a fire truck down here as soon as possible. The fire’s burning pretty good. If this get’s to the building…
Dispatch…All right…I’ve just placed an emergency distress call on your location and firemen should be arriving soon. Mam, is the building on fire? If it seems like the building might be in danger you are going to need to evacuate.
Caller…No, it’s just the lawn. The flames aren’t as bad as they were a little while ago. It’s weird, at first it looked like the whole yard was on fire, but now the only thing that’s burning is the grass. It almost looks like someone spelled out some kind of message.
Dispatch…A message? Mam, do you see anyone standing near the flames?
Caller…No, well not anymore. I’m a nurse at Denver Health and I’d just gotten up to get ready for my shift when I noticed the light coming from outside. I called right away, but now that you mention it, I do feel like I saw someone. They were wearing a hoodie and looking up at our building, at one of the apartments above mine.
(Muffled) Holy Shit. Babe, does that say what I think it does?
I’m sorry, that was my boyfriend. Officer, you’re not going to believe this. The flames, they spell a message out in our lawn. It says ALL OLD MEN DIE. Why would anyone spell that out?
(Popping Sounds)
Oh my god, that’s a gun!
(Shouting) Come out here you little bastards. You want a piece of me? You want to kill me? Then do something about it. I’m not running. Let’s finish this.
(More Popping Sounds)
(Muffled Shouting) Babe, get down.
(Loud Thump)
Oh my god, there’s an old man on the lawn firing a gun.
Dispatch…Mam, take cover. The police should be minutes away.
Caller…(Crying) Oh my god. Oh my god. What’s happening?
(Shouting) I’m not running anymore, you here me? You want to kill an old man, well now’s your chance.
(Sirens)
(Police Shouting) Sir, drop the weapon and get on the ground. Drop the gun and put your hands in the air.
(Shouting) You don’t understand. Please, I have to finish this.
(Shouting) Drop the gun.
(Popping Sounds)
Caller…Oh my god. Oh my god.
Call Ended
Friday, August 8th. 10:11 P.M.
Dispatch…911, what is your emergency?
Caller…(Whispering) Hello, 911, Oh god, I need help. They’re here, they’re inside my apartment. Oh god, I knew I shouldn’t have come back.
(Thumping Sounds)
Dispatch…Sir, I’ve placed a distress call to your location and police should be arriving shortly. Who is inside your apartment? Sir, can you tell me what is happening?
Caller…(Whispering) Oh god, there’s so many of them. They’ve found me, oh God, they know I’m here.
(Thumping Sounds)
I just came back for the night. All I wanted was to get my clothes. What was I thinking?
(Thumping Sounds)
(Barely Audible) Hey old man…come out come out where ever you are.
(Whispering) Please, if you don’t get here soon I’m a goner.
Dispatch…Sir, if there is someone in your apartment you don’t need to speak. Try and find somewhere to hide. I will stay on the line. The police are only minutes away.
Caller…(Whispering) Tell the police I’m in apartment 304. I’m in the crawl space inside my pantry. I can hear them going through my bedroom but I don’t think they know I’m in here. I just got out of the hospital a week ago. God, how did they know I would be coming home?
(Crashing)
(Barely Audible) You’re only making things worse for yourself old man.
Dispatch…Sir, it looks like the police should be arriving any minute. Please, remain hidden and help will be there any min…
(Screaming) Please, no. Oh God, please leave me alone.
Dispatch…Sir, can you hear me. Sir…Sir…
Caller…(Barely Audible) Thought we forgot about you, didn’t you old man. Stupid fuck, we never forget. Everyone’s time comes sooner or later.
(Crying) Please, leave me alone. I’m sorry I called the police on you. I’m so sorry.
(Barely Audible) I was worried the cops did you in when you pulled your little stunt, waiving your gun around like a tough guy. What did you think, that you would scare us off? How many times did those pigs shoot you? How much did it hurt?
Dispatch…Sir, anyone…whoever is there. Please, police are on the way.
(Screaming)
(Barely Audible) Please, I’m sorry. I called 911. The cops are on their way. You win. Just leave me alone.
Dispatch…Hello…Hello…The police are on their way…
(Laughing)
(Barely Audible) Leave you alone? Things have gone too far to leave you alone. But don’t worry. After tonight, I promise we’ll never mess with you again.
(Screaming) Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m…
(Sounds of a Chainsaw)
(Barely Audible) Grab his arms and legs. I want to quarter this fuck. Nighty night you old prick. Remember, all old men die someday.
(Sounds of a Chainsaw heighten, sounds of screaming increase too)
Dispatch…(Screaming,) Sir, please hold on. Whoever is there, please, stop. The police are on their way. You don’t have to do this.
(Silence)
Dispatch…Hello…Is anyone there? You don’t have to do this.
Caller…Hello Officer, I’d like to report a murder. At the corner of 16th and Detroit, apartment number 304. Some old fuck is bleeding out on his kitchen floor. Someone cut off his arms and legs. Pity really, the choices we make. Get the cops here soon and he might still be warm by the time you show up.
Call Ended.
Banner Image: Pixabay.com
The parking lot was filling up around me, their headlights bouncing off my rear-view mirror. I sat gobbling my maple-dip donut and watching one old person after another make their way towards the lighted pathway. Just ahead of me, a tiny couple launched themselves out of an ancient white Cadillac, linked arms, and rocked away in unison, picking their way around the frozen puddles. The clock on the dashboard said 7:37; I couldn’t delay it any longer. All I had to do was get through the wake tonight and the funeral tomorrow and I could be gone by lunch. Short and sweet. Hello Gerald. Good-bye Roberta. And no time to talk about Paul.
A farmer had two Volkswagen Beetles, both of them white with spreading rust trim and not a running board between them. He’d interchanged their parts so many times in his efforts to keep at least one of them running, now, neither one would start. Their driving days were over. Hoping to find some cheap replacement parts, the farmer clomped out to get the morning paper, but found only a pamphlet someone had left beneath a stone on his porch:
LIFE IS AN ECHO: YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW
Author’s Note
The Dreamtime, a series of Aboriginal legends, celebrates shapeshifting giants that once roamed Australia. The giants forged paths—songlines—which marked the mountains, the rivers, the stars. Their spirits still linger today. Continue reading “The Outback (a novel excerpt) by James Hanna”
I write this as the events in London unfold.
Our world has many sicknesses and all of them are man induced, no matter what their ideals or beliefs. For our world and the innocents I do grieve and all of us at Literally Stories pass on our thoughts to those involved.
This has brought me to the topic of madness. But not the narrow minded madness from a bunch of insignificant bastards who can’t comprehend the common theme of being human first, followed, with no significance, of sex or religion.
Continue reading “Week 116 Short Paragraphs, Alien Slime And Type-Writer Ribbon”
Today, quicksilver March clouds hug Torqwamni Hill in a multilayered embrace composed of soft kisses and the murmured promise of a twisted-shank thrust below the sternum and into the heart. Both may be interpreted as acts of affection. And it is Tennyson who claims that spring is when young men think of love; yet nothing the Lord says expands well on what the young ladies make of the situation. Perhaps this is because it is less poetic, and concerns what passes from mothers to daughters on the subjects of cows and the price of milk.
Continue reading “A Whistle for the Goatfooted Balloonman by Leila Allison”
The Texas evening carried grace and expectation as the sun moved on its last legs; soft shadows fell from all heights as though they were cotton balls shaped into vague contours, and a hush moved across the land the way mystery crawls, unknown, unsure of where to put down its feet, looking for contestants in the arena where life is lived a good part of the time. In Trinity Cove, Texas, it was The Wild Eye Saloon, a catch-all for what the west brings to dry throats, hungry cowpokes, desperate criminals, sneaky card players, and a few ladies lost in the game of life.
I took everything down by myself. Everything. I didn’t care. The lights on the outside of the house, the lights around the bushes. I cut my hand doing that. I took down the plastic reindeer in the lawn, the Santa hats on the porch, the candy canes that lined the walk way. I put it away. I put it all away. All in the basement where I put most of our decorations. I didn’t put them back in the boxes, I was tired and I finished pretty late.
I put on the radio and listened to Christmas songs to make up for the lack of decorations. Made eggnog. Adult eggnog. That’s pretty much all I drank the whole time my wife and the children were gone. In the morning, I had my coffee of course, but for the rest of the day I had adult eggnog.
They left in the morning. They left pretty early and my children asked why I wasn’t going to Grandpa’s and I told them my Dad was coming and we were having Christmas together, the two of us. They didn’t understand and I didn’t expect them to, but that’s what I had to tell them because the truth hurt me bad. It still hurts me.
What did you get the kids?” My wife asked me. We were standing in the kitchen. We had just finished dinner.
“We have to talk about that,” I said.
“Don’t spend too much.”
“That’s what we have to talk about,” I said.
“What is it?”
“Come sit for a second, please.” I walked over to the kitchen table.
Then my wife gave me this stare and I thought that maybe she knew. She had to know. I knew she was not suspecting the good. She came and sat at the kitchen table with me. It was pretty late. I remember when I looked out the window it was very dark and I saw my reflection and the reflection of my wife’s back as she sat across from me. I couldn’t notice myself. Nothing about myself I noticed.
I said, “I didn’t get the kids anything.”
She said, “Then, let’s go tomorrow.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not? The stores are still open. Nothing is closed.”
“I don’t have the funds,” I said.
She gave me that same stare when I first told her to sit. That kind of stare that looked through me. Maybe I was nothing. That’s how she looked at me.
“What do you mean?” She said.
“I don’t have it,” I said.
“Why not? What happened?”
“I had to get my Dad out.”
“You never told me he went back in,” she said.
“Found out a few days ago. He asked me if I could get him out.”
She shook her head. “And you did it? I can’t believe you.”
“It’s my father,” I said.
“These are your children,” she said.
She sat there shaking her head and I looked at her, my eyes watered just a little. I looked at my reflection in the window in our kitchen. She got up.
“Where are you going?” I said.
“We’re going to my parents. The children and me,” she said. “At least they’ll have presents for them. You didn’t get me anything did you? You probably didn’t. Why do I ask?”
I sat there looking down at my hands. My head started to hurt. My whole body started to hurt. I just sat there at the table. Just me. Not noticing my reflection. I heard her upstairs packing. I heard her moving around then I heard her tell the children to start packing and I heard them give her trouble so I went up.
I told the children to pack and they asked me why and that’s when I told them.
“My father is coming here for Christmas. It’s just going to be us.”
“Why aren’t you coming with us?” One asked.
“My father is coming here.”
“Come with us, Daddy,” one said.
“Yea, Daddy,” the other said.
I looked at them both and held them. “You’ll have fun at Grandpa’s. He’s got the place ready for you.”
I kissed them on their little cheeks and told them again to start packing. I went to the bedroom and my wife was filling up a second suitcase.
“You can take mine,” I said. “It’s bigger.”
She just shook her head and stuffed the suitcase. I sat on the bed. Then I laid down on my back. I watched her walk back and forth, back and forth with mounds of clothes in her arms and some fell on the floor.
“How long are you staying?” I asked as I looked at the bags.
“I don’t know,” she said. “A week or so.”
A week was a bit much for me, not seeing my children. But what was I going to say? I kept watching her walk back and forth. She had so many clothes. I watched her walk back and forth one more time when I faded to sleep.
I didn’t sleep long. I didn’t want to sleep that long. She didn’t wake me. The sun looked choppy as it came through the blinds. I turned over. My wife and her bags were gone. I didn’t put any pants on and I walked to my children’s room and they weren’t there either. Their beds were made. I hoped they’d be back for New Years.
That’s when I swallowed to hold the tears. I swallowed quite a bit, trying to get it all down. That nasty taste in my mouth. I went and brewed coffee. The pot wasn’t all the way done and I put in a bunch of cream and sat in the kitchen and tried hard to make the taste go away. I looked at the Christmas decorations outside and that’s when I did it. I put it all away. Everything. I didn’t care anymore.
I tried calling my father after some glasses of eggnog and he finally answered on the fourth try. I told him he should come. He said he’d think about it.
“It’d be good for you, Dad.”
“How so?” he said.
“Been a while since we had Christmas together,” I said. That made me think. Damn. That was the Christmas that Mom winded up in the hospital. No presents that Christmas.
“I can’t get the kids anything,” he said. “I can’t get you anything.”
“That’s fine. They’re not here. Just come up. It’d be good for you.”
“She left you?” He asked.
“We’ll talk about that. Come on, Dad. Please.”
He breathed a really long breath and cleared his throat. “Pick me up from the bus station. Be there in the morning.” He hung up.
The next day was Christmas Eve. Though, it didn’t feel like it. I guess that’s because of the decorations I put away. Glad I did. I threw on whatever I laid my eyes on first.
I drove the pickup that I hadn’t driven in quite a while to the bus station. The roads were riddled with melting snow. The bus station was packed and I waited for several minutes. A bus pulled up and many people got off. Then I saw my Dad. He looked better than I expected. He didn’t have a bag with him though. He walked down the line of cars. I noticed the woman next to him was walking with him. She was looking around. I realized she was with him. She didn’t have a bag either. I didn’t think he knew my truck so I honked and put my arm out of the window. He saw me. The both of them rushed to the truck.
“Boy, its cold,” he said when he opened the door and he rubbed his rough hands together. “This is Mina,” he said.
She hopped in first and I halfway smiled at her. She was a brunette, but the bottom of her hair faded into blonde. Her teeth didn’t look all that good. Under both her of eyes it was dark, almost purple. My father sat on the outside. The truck was tight.
“Good to see you, Dad.”
“Yea,” he said.
I looked at my father before I pulled off. I hoped he was alright. There’s no telling with him. We all rode back to my house. We entered the neighborhood and Mina talked about how nice everyone’s decorations were. She pointed at the Smith’s house. They always had so many things in their yard. Too many things. The grass could barely be seen. Then she pointed at the Lewis’s blow up Santa which my wife hated. Said she would deflate that thing once. Man, I missed her. I missed my wife and my children. I hoped they’d be back for New Years.
We got to my house and I pulled in the long driveway. Mina didn’t speak a word. Our decorations were in the basement. I didn’t care. She woke my father.
“We’re here,” she said.
“Home sweet home,” he said.
I saw the wreath on the front door. I forgot about the wreath. The small red ribbon that was tied to it blew in the wind.
We went in through the backdoor.
“You all are more than welcome to sleep in the guestroom,” I said.
I pointed to the door across the hall from the dining room. I watched them walk to the room and open the door and go in. They came out several minutes later without their coats. I didn’t realize how skinny Mina was.
I poured myself eggnog. They wanted some. I poured them some. They drank it and told me how good it was and we all had more.
“She left you?” My father asked.
“She went with the children to her parents for Christmas.”
“Why didn’t you go?”
“I wanted to spend it with you, Dad.”
“That’s sweet,” Mina said. She smiled. I didn’t look at her teeth.
“I never thanked you for getting me out,” he said.
I said, “You don’t have to, Dad.”
“You got both of us out,” said Mina. She smiled again.
I looked at my father and he took a sip of his eggnog then scolded her.
“You got one big mouth,” he said. “I told you about that mouth.”
Mina got quiet. Everything about her got quiet and she looked down at the table.
“It’s okay, Dad.”
“No, it’s not. She’s over here rambling and talking. I told her about that mouth of hers.”
“I promise, it’s fine,” I said. I looked at her. Mina kept her head down and her hands under the table. My father sat there shaking his head.
“Just wait,” he kept saying. “Just wait. I told you about that mouth.”
“Dad, seriously. I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you’re both here.” I hoped he couldn’t tell I was lying.
My father shook his head more and flexed his jaw. “To Mina and her big mouth,” he said and he held his glass of eggnog in the air and threw it back and down his throat. He got up and walked to the guest bedroom. The door slammed then Mina jumped.
She swallowed and swallowed again. I could see she was holding back tears. “Thank you for getting us out,” she said. “We’d still be in there if you hadn’t.”
“It’s fine,” I said.
“Your wife left?”
“Just to go to her parents.”
“You have children, you said?”
“Yes. Two. They’re with her.”
“That’s nice,” she said. Her hands were on the table now and her fingers played on the rim of her glass. “Your daddy is a good guy. I know he has a past, but he’s a good guy. A lot of people don’t think so, but I do. Caring and gentle, if you can believe that. But when he drinks he puts that side away. He puts that caring and gentle side all away.”
I watched Mina. Her fingers playing with her glass. She looked up finally. I could tell she was looking at her reflection in the window behind me. I wondered if she noticed herself.
Banner Image: Pixabay.com
