Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
“Well, in order to receive a full refund, you must return that faulty fan to this address: 123 Fuck You Plaza, at the corner of Deeze Nuts, and Sleeper Hold Lane.”
“Roman, as always, it’s nice to chat with you. Make sure to send your mama some Ozempic and my regards, and tell your father, Helen Keller, to speak now or forever hold his fucking peace.”
He hung up and turned up the music on his battery powered radio. Jimi Hendrix’s, ‘All Along the Watchtower.’
What a truly beautiful day to be alive…
Roman looked at his phone and slid it on the floor beside him. Grandpa had hurled more threats, but this time, put a little bit more funk on it. He went back to working on Mama’s sink. After a few minutes, he’d managed to contain the leak. She’d need a couple of parts, he figured he’d swing by the hardware store and grab them, but he would handle that in a bit. The most pressing matter was stopping the seepage. Toby approached him, a little green ball in his mouth. Roman smiled at the tiny dog, rubbed his head, took the ball and hurled it into the living room. Toby went after it as fast as his little legs could carry him. He got up, washed his hands, then downed a cup of water. When he had his mind right, he picked up his phone and re-read Daddy’s email. Off he went down the hall towards Mama’s bedroom.
The door was closed. He wondered if it was locked, too. He looked at it for a second and couldn’t recall too many times entering that dwelling without knocking first. Daddy had drilled that into him, and his brothers. When he got a little older, he realized it was because the lock never worked quite right on it, and they were probably in there doing things that would make him go blind if he saw it in action. He chuckled at the thought of it and opened the door. There in the middle of the room with the wooden walls that mama refused to part with, was a big, canopied bed. It had about a million pink and white pillows on it. In the corner was a case full of old dolls, only these didn’t look creepy.
Perhaps because Mama had them dressed in bright clothes and turned towards the window—not making direct eye contact. On the walls were photos when he and his brothers were children, all the way into their high school years. There was her wedding photo with his stepfather, Ronald, too, and Mama’s strawberry pie that had gotten first place in the local paper about ten or so years ago. As he neared the area Daddy mentioned in his email, he suddenly felt a heavy weight on his soul. His face dripped sweat, and his brain went white. He clung to a pole of the bed, his imagination getting the better of him. Toby suddenly appeared, the ball in his mouth again.
He pet the dog in a halfhearted way, removed the moist ball from his mouth, and threw it, but only this time, perhaps because he was still holding onto the bed and trying to make out what was happening to him, it hit the door frame instead, then rolled onto the ground, right back towards him. Toby looked mighty underwhelmed and disappointed. He, on the other hand, was in awe. He removed his phone from his pant pocket once again, and read his father’s email.
Roman,
Thank you for the money in my bank account. That was mighty generous of you. I’m still in this recovery facility but due to return to the reformatory in three weeks. I put a retainer down on an attorney for the assault and lack of action by prison staff. Everything has to be in writing now. I don’t have much hope that I’ll get my voice back. If I think about it too much though, I’ll want to use. A relapse is out of the question right now. The therapist said with my specific injury, some of it should have come back by now but it doesn’t mean all hope is lost. I haven’t written your grandfather and don’t plan to right now. There’s honestly nothing for me and that man to talk about. I thought about what you said at the hospital.
I thought about your phone call to me the other day, too. I listened. I promise I did. You knew I couldn’t respond, but I listened to every word you said, son. Thank you for everything. For loving me when I wasn’t worth loving. I know you said that you’re working on getting out of this mess with my father, but I want to help. That’s why I told you to go to your mother’s house. I have never given you much in life. I rarely had any money. I didn’t teach you well by example, either. I tried to be a good father, but more times than not, I failed. I drank too much, used drugs, and cheated on your mama. Jordan is having a hard time of it, and so is Dakota. All three of y’all have grievances against me, and I earned that resentment.