Roll with the Punches by Gettinger Amy

Author:Gettinger, Amy [Gettinger, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Raucous Eucalyptus Press
Published: 2015-03-23T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 23

Tuesday morning, I woke up alone in the Honda's back seat with a headache and permanent seat belt latch indentations on my kidneys. A sweet memory made my mouth curl at the corners and my body tingle before I remembered The Dibs. I went inside and saw Dal on the back patio, stretched out on a lounge chair, an arm flung across his eyes against the rising sun. He must have needed sleep too badly to stay in the car.

I helped Music Man start his bacon and eggs. Then Violeta Diaz, a short, hefty lady with a monster mole on her forehead, showed up for the day shift with Dad. I gave her the nickel tour and left without waking Dal since his class didn't start until afternoon.

He'd offered to watch Music Man in the evening so I could go to my writers' group. Except I'd written nothing new for the group. I put pen to paper on my lunch hour and wrote three pages of a trite love scene with ill-disguised characters making out in a back yard. In the rain.

My research queries on Reynard Jackson and Pablo Reynaldo had all been dead ends. I googled other sources, but had little hope. James didn't call.

Heading home from work at 3:30, I got a call from the caregiver agency. Music Man had complained of dizziness and taken two naps already today. He'd awakened from each one claiming it was morning and demanding a huge breakfast of eggs and bacon. He had eaten so much at his third breakfast that he had thrown up.

Each time the caregiver had cleaned up the kitchen, Dad had rearranged things on all the surfaces in the house. He had hidden Ms. Diaz's wallet and keys in his bedroom dresser, and she was now ready to charge him with stealing.

The agency would be sending someone else tomorrow.

Too angry to face the aging delinquent, I got Arlene to watch him until Dal returned, and I visited my mother in the rehab facility. She looked a little better and was able to walk without fainting. I didn't tell her about Music Man's adventures with caregivers. Why worry her? Or my adventures with the Indian. None of her beeswax.

But I was bursting to tell somebody about the Dal/James problem, and Harley sure wasn't it. So I showed up early at Jackie's house for the writers' meeting.

"So the Indian's hot stuff, too? Wow. Sounds like the old sperm race," Jackie said.

I did a spit take with my iced tea.

"You know. Two sperm trying to make it to the egg first. You're the egg. James and Dal are sperm. Except it's normally a few million sperm. Got any more guys in the chute? The more the merrier where sperm are concerned.”

"Going from zero to two in a week isn't enough?" I asked.

Marian and George drove up outside.

I panicked, knowing I just had seconds to state my case. "But who do I choose? James cares about the folks and has a hundred tattoos, and Dal cares about the folks and is jobless.

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