The next morning I woke up to my mother knocking on my door. She stuck her head in as I pulled the covers off, "Hey sunshine, I just wanted to let you know that I'm headed into town, then to the club and won't be back till later; lunch with the girls and all that. Your car is in the drive and your dad got it all ready to go. So, stop by the shop and thank him. Ok hun? Bye bye."
Like that, she was gone. The clock read 9:46 a.m. I knew I wasn't going back to sleep. I threw back the covers and my cell phone flew out of my bed and bounced across the floor.
Right, Natalie sent me a text.
I put the phone on my dresser and went in search of coffee. The pot was empty and the stuff in the cabinet didn't entice me. I made a quick decision to go to the local coffee shop and load up on caffeine before attempting my Christmas shopping.
Twenty minutes later, I grabbed my laptop and was out the door. My little Honda Civic was sitting in the drive looking just as good as it did when I left it in September. Dad kept it in good condition and grandmother Strum had been driving it back and forth to church and to get her hair done each week.
The car smelled slightly of stale old lady; I didn't mind. I backed out of the drive and headed to The Playwrite CafΓ©. It's a small cafΓ© that hosts open mike nights on the weekends and stays open late to accommodate the crowd of small-city college students and artsy types. I loved this place when I was in high school. The coffee was strong and the sofas were comfy.
I ordered my usual large coffee and plugged in my laptop. I booted up and checked my email. I thought I might as well send Natalie a short message. I wrote:
Dear Natalie,
Life back home is hectic, but at least it's dry and warm. I miss you, but consider yourself lucky that you didn't have to do the "welcome home barbecue" with my family; my WHOLE family. They can be a bit overwhelming. I hope you're having a great time in foggy London town, and that this email finds you well.
Much love,
Adi
P.S. I thought about it on the flight; the red in your vase is pain and suffering, isn't it?
I read over the email a couple of times, debating whether to send it. My cell phone rang; it was mom. "Adi, I just wondered if you've left to go see your dad yet?"
"I'm about to go now. I just dropped by the Playwrite for some coffee."
"Well, I just wanted you to see if we needed any chicken for dinner tonight and if so, tell your father to bring home some. Your sister and her family should be here tomorrow. Aren't you excited?"
I wasn't, but I didn't tell her that. Instead I agreed with her and hit "send" on the email.
"Crap," I said into the phone once I realized I had sent off the email to Natalie.
"What? What happened? Adi, what have I told you about talking and driving?"
"I'm not driving mom, I'm at the coffee shop remember? I just spilt a little coffee on me, I'm fine. I'll go see dad right now."
Once I got off the phone, I turned off the computer and put a lid on my coffee. I left the computer in my car and decided to walk the few blocks to my dad's butcher shop on Main Street.
For the end of December, it was a warm 70 degrees and the sun was shining. I strolled into the shop and heard dad yell from the back, "Be with you in a minute."
I didn't say anything. Instead I walked behind the counter, much to the amusement of the other customers in the shop. I had my back to dad when he came out of the chiller. He said, "I don't think you need to be back here."
"Really?" I interrupted him and turned around, "I would have loved for you to have told me that back when I was working here." Dad smiled and said, "Hey Adi, I didn't expect to see you back in the swing of things so soon; what's new?"
"Not much. I would hug you but you're kinda covered in blood."
He held up a chunk of steak in one hand and shrugged. "Fine, don't hug your old man."
"You know I love you."
"And I love you too, even if you don't want to get bloody." I looked at him.
"I wanted to come by and say thank you for having my car all fixed up and ready to go for me."
He handed the steak over to a customer and took her money. He glanced out the window, "I don't see your car out there."
"I was over at the coffee shop and decided it was too pretty a day not to walk."
"I see."
My cell phone rang. It was Kim, she wanted to meet and go shopping in the afternoon. I agreed to meet her for a light lunch at the local deli in a few hours. It was right down the street. The door to the shop opened and three more customers piled in calling greetings to dad and looking at me like they'd seen a ghost.
"Yes, she's back, but for a limited time only," my dad joked, "until I can convince her otherwise."
"Yup, I got a few hours to kill, need some help with this ratty old cash register?"
"I would love some help. It'll be just like old times. Except I won't have to pay you."
"Who says?" I asked as I fell back into the comfortable rhythm of customers and cash.
Twenty minutes late, Kim walked into the shop and we left together. Over sandwiches Kim said, "So, how's your girlfriend?"
"Kim!" I looked around to make sure no one was listening.
"What? It's the twenty first century. No one actually cares about a lil' girl on girl action. Hell, most people would drool over it."