The Happenstances at the Yellow County Community College a Couple of Semesters Later by Peter Harmon

Author:Peter Harmon
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781633934399
Publisher: Koehler Books
Published: 2015-01-17T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 10

ROHEED WAS SPRAWLED out on Charlie’s couch, a wet washcloth draped on his forehead, covering his closed eyes. He was massaging his temples when his phone made that awful sound that phones make when a video call is coming through. He answered it. Florence’s face popped up on the screen. She saw the state that Roheed was in and laughed.

Roheed was grumpy. “It’s not amusing.”

“Aw, I’m sorry, ’Heed.” Florence did that cute thing where her eyes were smiling but her mouth frowned in an overdramatic display of sympathy. “You just look pretty cute with your little washcloth on your head.”

“Anyway,” Roheed rolled his eyes, “I did this to myself because of you.”

“What?”

“I went out drinking after I saw you with him.”

“Who?”

“You know who.”

She did. “Al? Yeah, he was at the club I played last night, along with three thousand other people.”

Roheed was pissed. “Were all three thousand people also your ex-boyfriends? And before you answer, you don’t have to, because I’m being facetious. I know you’ve had significantly fewer ex-boyfriends than that.”

Florence was getting heated as well. “If you don’t trust me, then I don’t need to be talking to you right now. Maybe call me back when you’ve adjusted your attitude.”

“Maybe call me back when . . .” Roheed sputtered, “you’ve adjusted your . . . uh, gratitude . . .” He searched for words, but like a prop gun in an old Western, he came up blank. “Never mind, my head hurts.”

“Green’s not your color, babe,” Florence said, and then her face disappeared from Roheed’s phone with a whoosh and a zoop.

Roheed wasn’t sure if she meant green with envy or that he physically looked green because he felt so sick. It didn’t matter. He seriously considered throwing his phone across the room into the wall, but the way his brain worked, it played out a million micro-scenarios and he just couldn’t let himself do it. There was no upside except for a brief moment of satisfaction, he reasoned. Instead, he simply set the phone down gently on the floor. Then he lay back on the couch and slid the fuzzy, faded light blue washcloth he had been nursing his headache with down over his face to block out the world.

• • •

Jonathan was sitting in his office polishing his whistle—seriously, that’s not a euphemism; he was actually making sure his coach’s whistle was nice and shiny. He had a little thing called pride, after all. Chris entered, and even though Jonathan’s back was to her, he sensed her presence.

“You should have told me she was coming,” he said, not turning to face her.

“Would you have met with her if I did?” Chris asked.

Jonathan thought for a moment. “No.”

There was a pause, and then Chris replied, “There you go.”

Jonathan did a half-turn in his chair so that Chris could see his profile. He spoke quickly and passionately. “You don’t get it, your dads are cool. Your dads went out of their way to adopt you and neither of your dads are even dead.

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