What Goes Around Comes Around

A "Normal" Life

Let me tell you about the day I put a bullet between my dad's eyes. I know a reader's first impression of this book may be to assume the author is mental or plain sick, but studies show that 80% of you sickos out there have homicidal thoughts just like me. Just watch out for the people who have the balls to actually do it.

It was August, 30th, a "normal" Thursday so to speak. What is normal anyway? My father and I set out late morning to go to the local auto shop that my old grand-pop used to run but was then taken over after my grandfather was diagnosed with cardiomyopathy. He's still in and out of hospitals. The poor old man. My uncle was crouched by the underside of an old 2000's Ford truck. The thing was falling apart on its edges.

"That old Ford was tough enough to survive a bear attack!" My father's deep chuckle gave me chills. "I'm surprised it fell apart at all."

"I guess you're right Steve. I've relied on Fords my whole life."

I wasn't sure if they liked the Fords because of the actual performance or if it was that they are American cars.

"Well, this dumbass here," my father's curved stubby finger jerked towards me, "got into a car accident while trying to visit an old friend."

"What? Annabelle, you should know better than to wander off to god knows where. Just make friends here in town. Jesus, look what you did to her." Her referring to my beat up honda civic. I've taken her on countless road trips to get away from what I like to call small town fever.

"God fucking dammit, the rim is shot too." My father once again raised his voice for this inconvenience I caused him. Any inconvenience and his voice will go from a Bass to a Tenor.

"I'll need to keep her for a couple weeks. I should get a new bumper and new tires in on Wednesday. After that, we'll touch up the paint."

"How much is that going to cost?" Of course, it is all about the money.

"You're not going to like the numbers. The last client with a job like this spent close to two grand." I spent the next ten minutes sinking further into my mind, hoping to bypass the yelling and lecturing for once. I could see the lips of my father moving but heard no sound. I thought about my boyfriend, the one I was actually trying to visit. His soft and tender touch was wildly comforting. The way he spoke was calm, collective and always with respect. It was nice to at least have one man in my life to look up to. Last we spoke we were halfway across the country and traveling by train to San Francisco.

"I can't believe you've never been to SFMOMA." Liam's laugh was contagious.

"What can I say? I only went into the city on business."

"Ah, and what business does a fourteen-year-old have in the city?"

"Bothering my dad at work?"

"I see, I too had a lot of business work when I was younger." I do not think he realized how different our families are.

He continued, "My mother always used to bring me with her so I could play in a box by her desk. I have so many great memories of us playing together on her breaks when I was little. She would just stop everything to chase me down and hug me." I wonder what that feels like.

"That's very sweet. I can never get over mother-son relationships like that. Well, I can't wait to see the city for real this time."

"Here's our stop. Annabelle? Annabelle!" I looked up and realized my father's lecture had ended and he addressed me with a question.

"Yeah, sorry. I'll pay you back in full as soon as I can."

"Damn straight you will." I guessed the correct response. Out of all the things he was ever concerned about, money was the most frequently visited issue. My uncle was reaching for his electric metal saw and was about to slice the bumper down the middle to separate it.