Mystery in the MIST novel (Chap. 3)

CHAPTER THREE

 

Troy’s tummy gurgled. Well, if Dad wasn't going to get moving to prepare breakfast, then someone had to. The boy checked the contents of the fridge. Everything he needed waited for his cooking skills, especially milk, eggs and bacon.

Good thing they went into Debert for groceries a couple of days ago.

            “How about some apple juice? DAAD? Aren't you glad you've got someone else to do the cooking?” No answer. Probably, grabbing a bit of shut-eye, or sleeping it off.

            “I suppose you're hungry too, JC?”

            "Yup."

            Long conversation, as usual, Troy thought. “Yup,” he repeated. “I'm the maid,” he whistled to himself. But he didn't mind. In fact he enjoyed it.

            “Bacon and eggs OK?”

            “Oh no, not again,” was Dad’s unexpected answer. His comment crossed the room and smacked Troy on the forehead.

Was that another complaint? Or was Dad's fuzzy thinking trying to be funny? Troy decided it was a complaint.

            “Then you cook breakfast!” he yelled as he stormed off to his bedroom, stomping all the way upstairs. He wanted his noisy message to let Dad know he was not happy, no, not at all.

Now his right bare foot was sore from all that pounding on the stairs.

            “Dad does this to me, every time I try to do something good,” he complained to JC. “What's the matter with Dad anyway?” These last couple of months, it was as if Troy was under a microscope. He was tired of Dad jumping all over him.

            Troy carefully placed his watch on the dresser. It had so many gadgets and he didn't want them to get it damaged. In his frame of mind he was liable to deliberately bang his wrist on something.

            He flung himself face down on the bed.

             "Come on Troy, you know he was just teasing," JC piped up.

            “Well, it must be serious teasing.” Tears welled up. “It's not fair, JC,” Troy whispered. “Mom, why aren't you here? Did you have to go and die?” His crying carried across the room. If Boots were here, her “meows” may have helped calm her master.

            If only his cat didn’t get lost when they first moved here. Troy cried a lot then too. He searched the woods around the campground for days. No luck. There were too many places in the surrounding forest for a cat to explore. She must have gotten tired of hanging around the house all day.

            “So. It's that again,” his father said from the doorway. “Our little tiff has nothing to do with fishing, right? It’s about your mom. You miss her, right? Okay, I can live with that.” His dad stood there unsure what to do or say next.

            If Pamela were here, she'd know how to calm Troy down. They were both alike, with their sensitive natures, the man thought. And he too missed her so much. The man watched his son turn onto his back.

The sad scowl on his face was kind of funny. But he didn't dare laugh.

            “Do you want me to cook?” he asked. “I really know how,” he smiled as his son made grumpy faces.

            “In fact, who do you think taught you?” He figured that was pretty funny and chuckled a little. 

            “It's not funny...at all,” the boy mumbled from under crossed arms. He tried feeling mean and upset, because dad deserved to be punished. Maybe Troy shouldn’t speak to him for a whole week. Worse still, Troy might hide Dad's beer. Whatever was in the fridge could easily join the others buried in the backyard.

            Then he rolled back and forth on the bed laughing until he fell on the floor. Good thing Dad didn't know what he was laughing about.

            His chuckling rang loudly up and down the hallway.

Troy’s father was pleased. It was a good sign. One thing about his son, he couldn't stay upset about anything for too long.

Especially with Dad, he knew Troy loved him too much.

            The boy was forgiving, just like Mom. He looked up at his father from the floor. “You even taught me how to boil hotdogs,” he said. “And fry baloney too. When I graduate from your cooking school, I might even get a job as chef somewhere.” Troy enjoyed teasing Dad, right back.

            Besides, silly talk was fun.

            “Do you remember when we used to talk funny with Mom? Eh, Dad?” It was times like this that reminded him of good family times, 'before the accident'.  

            The man looked proudly at his son. He might not be the best dad in the world. And he might be hitting the bottle too much. But he truly loved his son.

            Then the two of them exchanged strange growling sounds. And laughter began once more. 'Mad time' was over. At least it was put on hold.

            Troy leapt from the floor and charged. He was a solid 90 pounds and hit his father right in the midsection. Then his arms wrapped around Dad like a chimpanzee and buried his head in his tummy.

            He stood for a few moments, squeezing with all his might.

            The house shook from all the excitement. A blue jay flew by the window. Troy wondered if JC would be jealous of the fun he was having. For some strange reason, Dad got really upset when JC's name was mentioned. Troy didn't push it.

            Not right now, anyway.         

            Father and son wrestled and grunted until they said, “Enough! Time to eat!”

            This is the way it should always be, Troy thought. He loved these happy times. They were special moments. Sad times came too often these days. Right now it was good to hear his father laughing and carrying on with him.

            Usually after one of these tussles, something got broken. Then Mom would start hollering for them to settle down. If only Troy could hear her voice now. He wouldn't mind being scolded. Not if it meant Mom was home again.  

            Because of two missing pieces in his family puzzle, Mom and Boots, Troy often had sleepless nights. He was also sure  Boots missed having her grey and white ball of fur cuddle up beside him.

            “Take me fishing, later?” Troy asked. He was never one to give up on anything. So what if he was pushing it.

            “MAABEEE LAATER,” dad sang out, with a twinkle in his eye.

            “OK. That's good enough for me!” Troy yelled. “Hey, I'm the cook. OUTTA my way!”

            Soon the kitchen was busy with meal preparation. Cutlery, plates then milk on the table. Jam, ketchup and white napkins. Troy wanted to do everything just right.

            Always the way Mom taught him.

            Dad disappeared into the living room again. Probably one of his favorite programs was on, either Seinfeld or Home Improvement reruns. 

            Troy didn't mind, he was feeling much better. Dad did say, “Maybe later,” they'd go fishing. That was worth something.

            The cook began to get things moving, again.

            Crack the eggs one at a time into the warm Teflon pan, and add a strip of bacon alongside. Try two, that's better. No, three. Hey, this is fun! Both yolks winked back at him like a double morning sunrise.

            “Dad, do you want white or brown bread?”

            “Anything,” trailed from the other room.

            It wasn't everyday a boy had the run of the house like he did. Sometimes Troy wished Dad would be stricter, about things like brushing teeth, or fixing up his room. Right now it was more than an untidy mess.

            It was so much easier to toss everything on the floor. On laundry day, everything was ready to pick up. Troy knew his developing lazy habits didn’t make him feel good.

            After Mom died, Dad went to pieces. He couldn't work as a mechanic for Petrocan anymore. He had a hard time sleeping and missed getting to work on time. This happened over and over.

            After mistakes and a couple of customer complaints, they had to let him go.

            Good thing a friend heard about this place. All Dad had to do was a little carpentry work and watch over the place. For this he received a fully furnished house and a small salary. It was a chance for them to get on their feet.

Troy liked living here. It was neat having all this privacy with a forest to explore. If Mom could only see this spread, she would love it.      

 

Dad and Troy were quite excited the first time they drove in to check out the property. A forest of mature trees surrounded the campground. Nothing like the city life they were leaving behind. A beautiful river meandered right alongside the edge of the property.

            Those good memories were interrupted by the readiness of their meal.

“Dad? Ready? Come help me set the table, OK? You get the dishes.” A slow shuffle came into the kitchen. Dad was humming a song. Some of his words were slurred.

            Sounds like he’s in great spirits. Troy chuckled at his silly joke; beer is Spirits, get it?