The Cellar

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

            Monday morning, there was a noticeable chill to the air as I started the walk to school, and I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jacket. Seconds later, my phone buzzed against my hand.

            “Hi, Dad.”

            “Hey, kiddo. You on your way to school?”

            “Yeah.”

            “How are you?”

            “I’m all right.”

            “Good.” He sounded distracted. “Listen,” he said, “your mom hasn’t called Matty in awhile. What’s going on?”

            “I don’t know, Dad. She’s kind of the same. Depressed. I think this week was especially hard because, well, you know. The birthday.”

            “Is she drinking a lot?”

            “Some,” I hedged.

            “I don’t like this situation, Julia.” I was glad he couldn’t see me roll my eyes. Here we go again.

            “Dad, it’s really not that bad. She’s painting a lot too, you know. I think she just needs a little more time.”

            “Julia.” The obvious skepticism in his voice filled me with anger.

            “She’s going to get better, Dad, and we will be coming home. Unlike some people, I’m not ready to give up on her.” There was a short silence.

            “Just see if you can give her a nudge about Matty, okay?”

            “Fine.”

            “Have a good day at school,” he said, hanging up before I could answer.

            “’Bye, Dad. Nice talking to you too,” I muttered, shoving the phone back in my pocket. Apparently, my parents were now back in junior high, and I was the friend stuck passing notes.

            When I got to the parking lot at the end of the day for my lesson with Derek, I saw him waving at me from a different truck than usual.

            “We have to make a quick stop at my house,” Derek said as we climbed in. “My dad and I swapped today so he could take mine in for new tires. He’s old-school and only drives stick, and I figure that would be a bit much to throw at you.”