The Love I Found

Chapter 4

Mrs. Scott has a meeting with the school committee tonight to discuss the upcoming year. As I get back from having dinner at Marissa's, I wonder if Cal will stay true to what he said about staying home when Mrs. Scott is out.

As I reach for the door handle, it whips open, and there stands Cal, looking furious. I can hear Mr. Scott shouting from the kitchen, but before I get a gist of what the argument is about, Cal is pushing past me and slamming the door shut behind him.

I spin around to watch him stalk up the sidewalk toward the gate.

He's leaving!

How can he, after he had just reassured me last night that he wouldn't leave me alone with Mr. Scott? To make things worse, he's leaving while Mr. Scott is in a hell of a bad mood.

"Cal?" I helplessly call after him, stepping down the concrete steps and watching his retreating back. "Where are you... You can't leave!"

He turns around, and his angry expression calms slightly as he takes in my stricken face.

"I'm not going anywhere. Just having a smoke a minute." He holds up his pack as if giving me proof, then reaches up and scratches the back of his neck. "Go on inside. I'll be right in."

I make no move to comply.

"C'mon Amelia, do I have to hold your hand every step of the way?" His words come out with an angry snap as he moves a cigarette to his lips.

He has never spoken to me with such frustration. It makes me feel pathetic. I feel my shoulders sag, even as I try to put on a brave face, and shake my head in answer to his question.

With his cigarette now lit, Cal takes a long drag and exhales slowly. His own shoulders seem to sag, and he gestures toward the front door with his free hand. "I'll be right in," he says again. This time, his voice is much softer and gentle. "You'll be fine, Aim."

I believe him. I nod and walk to the door, stealing one more glance in his direction before going inside.

It's quiet in the house, and I am thankful that Mr. Scott isn't yelling anymore. Though it's not too late, I am tired. I had too many thoughts running through my head last night to get a good night’s sleep. I think about heading straight to bed, but I don't want to go upstairs until I know that Cal is back in the house.

Instead, I cautiously walk through the kitchen to the living room, hoping that Mr. Scott has gone out to the garage to blow off some steam.

On my way through, I take note of the empty beer bottles on the counter. It looks like he has already been blowing off some steam, or in other words, drinking himself into oblivion.

When I reach the living room, I find him sprawled out on the couch, face down and snoring like a hibernating bear. How he can sleep on his rounded belly is a mystery beyond me.

His yellow-tinged, off-white wife beater is stretched thin over his flubbery back and stomach. His jeans are loose and in desperate need of a belt to keep them up past his hairy ass crack, which is unnecessarily revealing itself to the living room. 

Yuck.

I avert my eyes from the grotesque sight. I did not need to see that.

I analyze his hairy face to determine how deeply he's sleeping. His facial hair comes in too patchy to give him a full beard, but he doesn't shave often enough to keep it maintained. His nose is wide and his nostrils always seem to be flared open. They remind me of a gorilla. Come to think of it, his prominent unibrow also reminds me of a gorilla.

If you were to mix a gorilla with a naked mole rat, you'd get something that resembles Mr. Scott. I don't know how that makes sense when the two animals look so different from one another, but it adds up in my mind.