Watch Your Temper

Chapter Eight: The Awkward Gas Station Reunion

        "Temper! Mrs. Arbing is here to see you."

I looked up from the magazine in my lap, and rolled off my bed.  "Sure, yeah, coming!" I called back to my mom, opening my door and walking out.

"Hi, Temper! I was wondering if you were still interested in coming with us to our cottage today. We're leaving in a few hours, so I thought I'd let you know," Mrs. A informed me chirpily.

I thought back to the beautiful pictures in George's bedroom, and how badly I wanted to get away from the city. I thought about eating watermelon on a porch while watching a sunset. I thought about swimming in crystal clear water, and fishing until twilight. I thought about sitting on a hill and laughing till I cried. But then I thought about George, and how he had lied to me.

I hated him now.

Well, sort of.

But not enough that I would miss out on a trip to some kick-ass cottage.

"Yeah... I'll go," I muttered, and instantly knew I had made the right choice. Mrs. A's face lit up like fireworks on the fourth of July, a face-eating smile forming on her face.

"Great! What about you and Ronnie?" Lauren asked my mom.

"Um..." my mom bumbled, a look of confusion etching its way onto her face.

"Don't tell me Temper didn't tell you! The kids and I are heading back to our old cottage in the country, and we wanted to know if you could come!" Lauren exclaimed, placing a hand on her hip.

"Well....I guess we can go. After all, I don't have much else to attend to at the moment. To be truthful, I'm actually getting a little fed up with New York City," my mom admitted, slightly blushing.

"Oh, then you'll love the cottage! We can go fishing, and play tennis, and I can show you my boyfriend!" Lauren declared, smiling from ear-to-ear.

"Wait... you have a boyfriend, Mrs. A?" I asked in surprise.

"Oh, yes! I didn't tell you guys? I met him a few months ago at a bar. His name is Jon, and he loves motorcycles! He's very manly," Lauren laughed, a dreamy look taking over her features.

"Jon," I mumbled. "Interesting. I'm... I'm gonna go get ready."

+++

        "For the last time, would you get your elbow out of my face?!" I yelled, pushing Ronnie's bony limb away.

He grumbled in annoyance and turned to talk to Jack. The seating plan sucked. So did the car. We were driving in Mrs. Arbing's old purple minivan. Every time we came to a stop, or we sped up a bit, the car would squeal and moan like a dying whale. It didn't help that our luggage was crammed into the very back, piled beneath our jackets. Whenever the car swerved, the jackets flew up and over my head.

Mrs. Arbing and my mom were in the front seats, having some heated discussion about a corny soap opera. At least it wasn't Downton Abbey.

Jack and Ronnie were to my right, musing over all the trees and mountains surrounding our car. George sat to my left, earphones in his ears and just generally ignoring me. Jerk. If anyone should be ignoring him, it should be me! Weren't we even now, after all? I graffiti-ed, and he got mad. He lied, and I got mad. Wasn't it equal?

Due to the lack of chairs, Beth ended up having to sit on my lap. "Where are we now, mom? Almost there?" she asked Lauren.

"Yeah, honey. We're in Fordshire now, so we only have another hour or so to go. We're going to stop at a gas station in a few minutes, so hang in there," she replied, switching lanes.

Pharrell's "Happy" came on the radio for the billionth time, and I was about ready to rip my hair out, painful piece by painful piece. That, or jump out of the moving vehicle.

"We're here, c'mon kids!" my mom chirped once we had (finally) arrived at the service center. The younger kids screamed and pushed one another around, eager to get outside.

"Wait, wait, wait! Ms Adagio is going to fill the gas tank, and I'll go in the store with you. You're each allowed one snack!" Mrs. A told us all, and we galloped into the little store.

"Oh, sweet! Let's go get some Twizzlers... no, look, they have Doritos!" Ronnie exploded, grabbing Jack's hand and pulling him to a display of junk food.

Beth hobbled off to the magazine aisle with Mrs. A, so it was just George and I.

"So..." I mumbled awkwardly, suddenly finding the tile pattern beneath my feet intriguing. I looked back up, and I caught a glimpse of George wandering off to the energy drink section. I sighed and pulled at my t-shirt hem in frustration.

I spotted a selection of salads off in the corner, and I decided to go look at those. "Caesar or Citrus?" I said aloud, comparing the two types in my hand.

"Caesar. My daughter used to be obsessed with those!" a deep voice boomed with a laugh. I spun around, dropping the salad packages.

"Here, I'll get them for you," the man insisted, and crouched down to retrieve them.

When he looked up, I finally saw his face. My heart dropped to my toes. This couldn't be real. I was dreaming. I must be dreaming. I had to be dreaming.

The same wavy brown hair. The same hilarious smirk. The same twinkle in his deep brown eyes. The same skull tattoo on his left wrist. The same motorcycle jacket with the Hal's Auto Club embroidered neatly on the back. It was him.

Slowly, I pulled my wallet out of my back pocket and flipped it open. I looked at the picture of the man in my wallet, then back at the man in front of me. Back and forth, back and forth.

"Are you...?" I squeaked, feeling like I could faint.

"Jonathan Adagio. It's a pleasure to meet you," the man replied confidently, and held out his hand. I started at it limply, feeling my own hands start to shake. A sob escaped from my lips and I fell to the ground, my shoulders shaking and my heart numb. He didn't even recognize me.

"What's wrong? Are you okay? What's wrong?" the man kept asking.

"Temper, sweetie, what's wrong?!" I glanced up and saw Mrs. A and George looming over me protectively.

"Oh, Jon! I didn't know you were in town! Temper, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Jonathan Anderson," she beamed, holding onto his shoulder.

So he changed his last name.

I stood up, feeling a sudden burst of courage. "George, can I speak to you?" I asked him. He stared at me blankly, but hesitantly stepped forward.

"That... that's my dad," I whispered.

His eyes widened and he sucked in a deep breath.

Yeah, I might not know much, but guess what?

I do know that Mr. Jonathan Adagio- or, should I say Anderson, is a dead man. A very dead man.

************

Oh, goodness. Drama! Please don't forget to comment, vote and fan! Thanks :)

-Jenna