FIDDLEFORD APPRECIATION MONTH. Week one- parallel Fiddleford

Day 14

It was well in the afternoon when his mind clicked. Suddenly he remembered, the memories of seven years came flooding over him in only a few mere seconds. The force of these memories were enough to make him almost pass out. A jittery Fiddleford searched his pig sty of a motel room for the telephone. Fidd looked awful, large bags had formed under his eyes, a large chip could be seen in his spectacles and rough stubble was growing to form a small beard on his face. Where is that gosh darned phone? He asked himself mentally as he searched high and low for it.
"Oh god where is it!" He panicked slightly, he needed to make a very urgent phone call.

He flung papers with incomprehensible ramblings across the room as he frantically dug through the piles of his nonsensical notes and dammed diagrams. Finally he found it, buried deep in the mess of the hotel room. How did he keep forgetting to tidy this place?

He stared down at the phone for a second before cursing to himself.
"What's the number?" He questioned the air surrounding him. He didn't get an answer. He racked his brain trying to remember. Wait a moment, didn't he write it down somewhere? Yes! Yes he did! Now where was it?

Once again he began to tear up the motel room, searching for the note which held very key information to him. More important than those other notes that just proved how deep he was falling into insanity.

Note after note, he searched and scanned and sighed at every disappointing one. Where on earth would it be? He desperately needed to make this call.

Then he saw it, stuck to his fridge, boldly standing out against the white background. Fiddleford tripped and stumbled as he blindly ran toward it. Grasping it victoriously in his hand before heading toward the phone.

The small tones of the buttons chimed out into the silence of the room, making him smile slightly at the familiarity of the tune.

He clutched it to his ear, hopefully listening to every monotone ring as if it was the lords praise. The other line clicked as someone picked it up.
"Hello?" A young boy answered the other end.
"Tate!" Fiddleford smiled into the phone, clutching it tighter to his head to listen to his son's voice, even some tears had formed in the corners of his eyes. Fiddleford couldn't really remember the last time he spoke to his son but it felt like ages ago.
"Pa?" Tate questioned, slight giddiness in his tone. It's sounds like he missed his father too.
"It's me Tate, it's me!" Fidd confirmed. "Happy birthday my darlin'," he cheered.

There was a small pause before Tate answered again.
"Dad... my birthday was a month ago" the small, slightly disappointed voice informed him.
Fiddleford had a moment of disbelief, no no no Tate's birthday is in June.
"Tate I know it's today, I wrote it down, I-I remembered" he argued, a catch in his throat as doubt crossed his mind and he was remembering wrong.
"Pa, it was last month" Tate's voice sounded broken almost like he was crying. "When are you gunna come home?" He whimpered into the line.

With those words Fiddleford's heart broke.

Before he could answer there was a commotion at the other end.
"Fiddleford?" A woman's voice asked, well it wasn't really an ask more of a demand.
"Lucille?" He questioned in doubt, was that her name.
"Fiddleford were on earth have you been, we haven't heard from you in over a year and now you decide to call out of the blue? A month after Tate's birthday!" She sounded furious but also hurt. He tried to reply but she wasn't finished just yet.
"You must know...Fiddleford I'm leaving you. I've met someone else that is here for Tate and me. A better father for Tate, one that will actually be around and be there for him"

Fiddleford had zoned out of what she was saying a long time ago. He was to busy with feelings of sadness and pure rage building up inside of him to listen.
"Put Tate on" he demanded through gritted teeth.
"No"
"Lucille, let me talk to him!" He pleaded.
"You've had your chance to talk wih him and you let it slip, goodbye Fiddleford "
In the background Tate could be heard sobbing and the voice if a man comforting him.
"At least let me say" the phone hung up. "...goodbye"

He stood there for a few moments, frozen on the spot. The phone was still in his hand as tears streamed down his face and into the small beard growing on his face. His emotions were running high, sadness and anger were mixing together in a deadly concoction. He reached up to pull at his hair but instead his fingers felt the familiar feeling of a sticky note. He plucked it from his hair to see it was just a yellow sticky note with the words
'PTERODACTYLTRON!' Scrawled across it.

Suddenly a light went off in his head.
"I'll make her see! I'll show her what a bad decision she's made!" He spoke triumphantly to him self. He set the phone back down on the side before rushing to find his car keys.

Oh why was this place such a dump!