12 Strokes of Midnight

Chapter 6

 Copyright Ⓒ 2019 by B. Bailey All Rights Reserved 

"Hey Ray," Grandma greets, opening up the door of my room. "Do you want to come out to eat dinner? It's starting to get cold."

"Grandpa said I can't leave until I apologize, which I can, but he still wants me to golf, which I won't agree to."

Sighing, she walks inside, closing the door before coming to sit down next to me on my bed. "He doesn't mean to be harsh. Grandpa had a hard time working his way through school. He always pushed your dad to do his best and make the most of every opportunity. Talk to him and maybe you two can come to an understanding."

"It won't matter if I talk to him!" I turn to her, looking into her blue eyes. "He's just like Dad. He won't listen to me. "Do what I say because I know best". That's what this is. I don't have to worry about college for years to come and I will go to school for whatever I choose. Why can't he get that? Why can't they understand that?"

"I'm so sorry Socrates," Grandma puts her arm around my shoulder, stopping me from arguing about using my full name. "They're stubborn. The fact of the matter is that it is your choice, in the end. One day, when you grow up, you get to decide. Right now though," she ruffles my hair. "Right now your a kid and the only way anyone will listen to you is if you speak up. Grandpa is out there. You can go talk to him and see how things go. At the least, you'll get him used to hearing you out."

"Will me arguing with him make you two argue again?" I ask, keeping my eyes downcast as my face heats.

Grandma, instead of being upset like I thought she'd be, starts to laugh.

"We argue all of the time! We're married honey. That fight earlier was normal. I'd say we've clocked more hours in arguments than you've ever lived."

Wow. That is a lot of arguments because they're old. Both of my grandparents are in their 70's.

"Are you saying that I have to golf?"

"No," shaking her head, she holds her chin. "You don't have to. It's just a matter of convincing Grandpa to let it go."

"Then it's hopeless," I mutter, knowing that he spends more time on the golf course than at home, minus when he's asleep.

"He said being an inventor is useless. We have machines that make everything now. That there's no point to it. Healing people is noble and necessary..."

Grandma lifts my chin, making me meet her kind blue eyes. "Inventing is noble too and always necessary. Who knows what you could make?"

After I don't say anything, Grandma shakes my arm and walk away quietly.

Later that night, after Grandpa's gone to his office, Grandma comes into my room again, with a dinner plate. Eating quietly, I walk out with her to do the dishes, my daily chore. Afterward, we sit in the kitchen, both drying the plates and silverware.

"You know," she starts, a strange expression on her face. "Time is tricky Ray. It seems to go so slow when your a kid and then, one day, you old and wrinkled and time moves faster than x-lax."

"Ew!"

Grinning, she bumps my shoulder. "Don't knock it 'til you need it."

"I'd rather eat fiber."

Laughing, she set down her plate and grabs a cup, scrubbing the spots of water out of it. "It's all true. Time is different based on where your standing. It's mysterious that way."

The hour chimes as we put away the clean dishes, signaling 10 pm.

"Look at that old clock," she comments, guiding me over to a large grandfather clock in the corner of the living room.