Call Me Twice

Chapter 6: Happy Birthday

Harper

Against the odds I'm sober and not even in that crappy of a mood. It's Sunday night. Tomorrow is my birthday and I am going to make it a good one. In all technicality visitation ends at midnight. So I am going home. My mother always makes me breakfast on my birthday always, and every year on her birthday I wake her up by smashing a cup cake into her face so she started doing the same thing to me. And I told them not to get me anything but she might get off work early and play a game with me and Josie. I made a deal with a couple of kids at school so they think I'm meeting them in the gym to sell them drugs and really I'm breaking into their lockers and stealing their Pokémon cards. Good times. So Josie and I can play. And I will be sober and I will not stand in traffic.
But it's a couple of hours till midnight so I might as well run up my father's phone bill. There's not a phone in my room but the closet down the hall from the kitchen works fine.
"Ramos residence?" A very hesitant old female voice answers.
"Hi, I'm calling for Link? It's about an important assignment and it took me like five wrong numbers to get this number so if you could put him on the phone please?" I ask nicely.
"Who is this?"
"Someone fabulous calling for your goth grandson, put him on," I say.
Noise in the background, followed by the creep's soft weird accent, "Hello?"
"Hey Sammy, fuck you," I say, prepared to hang up.
"Oh I'm sorry I wouldn't let you get hit by a train—,"
"Apology accepted!"
"That was sarcasm, please don't introduce my grandmother to new vocabulary she's looking up in a dictionary what 'goth' means."
"Tell Link's grandparents he's a queer metalhead , got it—,"
"You're an ass—wait are you going to do that? Can I be there—?"
"Fuck you, do not try to save my life again."
"Just for that I will."
"Oh and never fucking talk my girlfriend again. Or I'll cut your tendons."
"What kind of threat is that? What tendons?"
"Just all the tendons don't over think it dude," I hang up.
Then I dial another number. This one I know by heart. I let it ring once, then I hang up. Then I call back immediately and let it ring twice and hang up. And then I call back a third time. On the fourth ring she answers.
"Hey why aren't you in bed?"
"I'm going home, fuck this shit. How are you?" I ask, pleasantly.
"Harper, be careful, just go home in the morning—,"
"No, fuck it. It's my birthday, I want to be home. I do everything at night my mom says I was born at night," I say.
"Okay then, I am going to sleep so—I'll talk to you at school? Cause you're going to school?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm going to school. Josie and I are gonna have a Pokémon tournament tomorrow night do you want to come?" I ask.
"Sure, absolutely. I don't know how to play—,"
"Here's a secret, neither do we. It'll be fun."
"Yeah it'll be fun."
"You know when that creep Sam called you the other day—,"
"Why did you rename him? You're the creepy one, Harper."
"Am not. I'm beautiful. Anyway when he called you he wasn't creepy was he? I like fucking with the maybe serial killer, but I don't want you killed. I told him not to talk to you," I say.
"It's fine—I mean he his homeschooled maybe he's just different."
"No I think he's definitely creepy. Anyway. Night now. Love you, will you marry me in the morning?"
"No, no Harper I will not marry you in the morning," she laughs, "But I love you too."
"Love you too you're gonna marry me someday," I hang up.
I and the last phone call. Home.
"Miller residence?" A sleepy Josie answers.
"Hey, I'm on my way home. Leave a light on," I say, grinning.
"Really?" Fully awake.
"Yeah, I'm coming straight back, I'm sick of this place. Go turn the porch light on, and wait inside all right? I'll be home. Fifteen minutes."
"Yay!"
I get up, and go put the phone back on the hook. The whole house is quiet. I gather up my backpack. No point in saying goodbye. It's not like they want me here anyway.
A light glows from my father's study. I pad over, carefully. I know I was high last time we spoke. I don't really remember it. But I don't think it was good.
"Hey, I'm going home," I say, leaning in the door.
He looks up from the desk. He looks like he's been crying.
"Is—everything okay?" I ask, wondering vaguely about my aunts and uncles. I have a couple. Some bad word perhaps? Someone sick. He certainly looks ill.
"Yes. Just go Harper. Please just go," he says, shaking his head and refusing to look at me.
"Um. Okay. Sorry about—whatever I said the other day I—not sorry I guess I might do it again. But. Sorry if the girls saw anything," I say.
"Just go. Please, just go," he says, almost annoyed.
"Right. See you next week then. Happy birthday to me I guess," I mutter. Not like he was going to do anything anyway.
"Go now, it's all right, just go," he says, quietly.
Fuck you too. I leave. Whatever. I don't know what I expected. Not like I deserved anything else. Or he does. We're a fine pair.
I get my bike, climbing on silently and peddling away into the night. I'll be home soon, Josie left a light on. And none of that has to matter.
I force away thoughts of my conception and my mother's enduring torment. I shouldn't torment her now. Not today. Tomorrow might be worse I don't know. But for now we'll keep. Yes for now we'll be all right.