untitled pt. 3

I walk up the steps of my parents, and hear what sounds like bickering. Wondering if mom is home, I walk in to dad storming up the stairs. “Mom how is it?” I ask a little frightened to find out the answer. “It’s not look real great right now, I think I’m going to your Aunt Casey’s house for awhile.” She answers but doesn’t sound very upset. “If you think it will help.” I say angrily walking up the stairs. Finding dad locked in his bathroom I tell him what mom says, “Dad, mom said she’s going to Aunt Casey’s for awhile.” I hear sobbing and tell him, “Well, I’m gonna be here on your bed when you are ready to come out.” I lay down on the bed with my legs off then bed, my feet still touching the floor, since my shoes are still on. I think of how it was before the fighting started. 1

When I was about nine, Dad, Mom, and I went on a weekend camping trip. We fished, cooked at a campfire and slept in the middle of nowhere only in a tent. It was by the better time of life.2

My dad shakes me, “Son, how about we go o the kitchen?” I amble down the hallway behind him, “I must have fallen asleep.”, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. “Yeah.”, he answers distracted. We enter the kitchen and I smell fresh brewed coffee. Dad pours him a cut and asks, “will it be coffee or ice tea?” Still smelling that wonderful aroma, “Coffee sounds great.” I grab a Little Debbie coffee cake to go with mine and dad says, “Hey, hand me one too.” Grabbing another I set at the bar sipping my strong, black coffee. Five minutes pass hen dad breaks the silence, “Your mother must except help of I am leaving.” Floored by this acquisition I reply quietly, “Do you think that will help?” He shrugs, “We can sure hope so.” We talk more about how to confront her and finish our coffee and snack. “Would you like me to stay with you?” I ask trying to be of what little help I can be. He replies very quickly and sharp, “Actually, I think it would be better if you didn’t. I think the few days by myself will help me figure things out.” I agree and head out to do my weekly shopping. 3

The town seems deserted as I walk the streets only passing two people. Since it’s only four I decide to look for a book a thrift store. I browse the shelves and find a few okay books but I notice Animal Farm by Orwell and decide a classic is the way to go.  Shelly, the cashier, recognizes me and says, “Ah, Mr. Griffon, needed something new to read?”  Coming in every few days I’m what they call a regular customer. “Always need more books.” I laugh handing her a five to cover the bill. “Have a great day Shelly.” I wave. She waves back, “See ya around Friday.” 4

Two more blocks and only two more people, I wave to both of them. This seems odd to be since my parents maybe divorcing soon. The market is crowed and I realize here all the people I usually pass are. Shopping. 5

I grab a basket and head to the produce, waiting for an elderly women o get her oranges I decide to grab an apple for the road. Heading for the lettuce, I remember the dancer Wondering where she is at this moment. Why do I care? No idea. I grab all my salad decor and head towards the meat section. Find the best deal with my normal turkey and chicken, I grab both. Again the dancer floats through my head. Unknowingly I grab a bag of dry cereal, after snapping back, I put the cereal back and grab my normal oatmeal, eggs and sausage. Now finished shopping, I find the shortest line and grab a spot. As the line slowly moves I decide a coke sounds good. Some many choices, I get a Diet Pepsi out of the cooler beside me. The cashier, a young male, asks me very impatiently, “Did you fin everything okay?” I nod and get out my wallet. “Your totally is $21.57.” I hand him the money and walk out with three bags.6

I walk fifteen steps to the curb and decide a cab to my apartment sounds much better. I whistle as loud as possible. The cabby pulls over, climbing in, "Seventh Avenue Apartments,apartment twelve, please."*7