My Secret Life
By
Rebecca Anna Coleman
Sequel To
Magnolia Blooms & Sakura Petals

-5-
A Phone Call From Dad

After that afternoon, after I had time to mull things over and really think about it, I came to the conclusion that maybe volunteering for the town's dunking booth was a bit foolish. I was trying to hide being “Heather” from the rest of the world. But I'd just volunteered to spend two thirty minute shifts in what amounted to a steel cage. Perched over five hundred gallons of freezing cold water, wearing nothing but a simple, navy blue one piece bathing suit. While total strangers pay five dollars for three tennis balls. They would then take those three tennis balls and toss them at a steel target. And if they hit that steel target in the center the seat I was sitting on would give out and I would be dropped into five hundred gallons of ice cold water.

But, then again it would be something to write about. While I had completed one ghost story for Shojo Kaiden, that story was just sitting on my hard drive collecting dust while I worked up the courage to send it off to publication. I'm sure it would be accepted for publications, and I'm sure the story would net me at least five dollars. Of course I'm sure Uncle Same would want his share of that five dollars. So after paying taxes on it, I'm sure I might be lucky to clear three dollars. Oh well it was a humble start.

Anyway maybe the dunking booth adventure would yield enough raw material to hammer out at least a fifteen thousand word article. Something I could send off to Shojo Beat for publication too. After all Shojo Beat loved to publish stuff that centered on the daily life struggles and petite dramas of their readership.

Shrugging my shoulders I put away all the worries about the dunking booth and my yet to be born career as a teen writer. I was just about to stand up and go to the kitchen to get a drink when all of a sudden my phone started to ring. Thinking it was my mother who had picked up an extra shift I answered without looking at the number.

“Hello?” Without thinking.

“Good evening, William.” A smooth as silk voice said on the other end. “I was hoping to talk to you.”

“DAD?!” I said almost jumping up from my seat. It was one thing to reject a friend request on Myspace, it was one thing to tear up a letter and toss the shredded remains into the paper waste can. It was a totally different thing to have a conversation with the man. Even if it was over the phone and he was well over two hundred miles away in some hole in the road town called Brookwood. He felt closer. I was then reminded, darkly I will say that he was only five hours away by car. That he could leave Brookwood at six in the morning and be in Greenwood at eleven the latest depending on traffic.

“I've been trying to reach you son.” Dad said in his smooth as silk voice, while his voice was gentle, warm and almost loving to me it sounded like the hiss of a viper. “You never responded to the letter I sent you, nor did you send me a thank you note for the money I gave you. I thought I raised you better than that. In fact I know I raised you better than that.”

I swallowed hard.

“Yes! I know dad! I'm sorry.” I said, taking a deep breath. Part of me wanted to just hang up in his face, but something told me if I just hung up in his face that might only add fuel to the fire and give him a reason to drive the two hundred something odd miles of flat that lay between Greenville, and Brookwood.

“It's just I've been busy, doing stuff, you know, mowing lawns for the neighbors, and keeping up with repairs around the house, you know, power washing the drive way, power washing the fence and painting it. Keeping our lawn looking like the best kept lawn in Greenville.. and generally you know being the man of the house.” I forced a chuckle and said. “You know somebody has too.” Oh God, just saying those words made me feel sick to my stomach like I was just going to vomit into a trash can tucked under my writing desk.

“I see your mothers not working you too hard is she?” He said in a smooth as silk tone of voice.

“Oh no.. not at all. You know how it is, you gotta be a man right? A man has to stand on business.” Once more I felt a wave of sickness roll over me, saying those words made me feel physically ill. The only time I felt this way was when I went out on the river with dad and I had a sudden attack of sea sickness.

“Good, good.” Dad paused. “Did you get that haircut like I asked?” His voice still sounded as smooth as silk and not once had he raised his voice toward me. Which was odd because he used to love to raise his voice. He used to love to shout at the top of his lungs. As if he wanted all of Greenville to hear what he had to say.

“I'm going to do that tomorrow dad.” I paused. “I've been busy, you know, doing work around the house. But tomorrow I'm going down to Richard's Barbarshop. You know the one located downtown. I'm going to get a good old fashioned haircut.” I said, trying to fight my way out of this trap.

“Good, Richard's Barbarshop.. that the one across from Ted's Tackle and Rod's right?” Dad said. “Is Richard Southworth still the owner or has he retired from cutting hair?”

I paused. I had no idea. I'd not darkened the doorway of that place since I was seven years old. To me the place conjured up terrible memories. I used to hate having my hair cut because the bastard that ran the place, a well known and retired Klan's man Richard Southworth used to scalp me. He always teased me that his clippers might slip and he would cut off one of  my ears. Much to the amusement of the retired Klan's men who had gathered to get their hair cut. To prove his point he used to show me an ear that he kept in a class jar on his desk.

The glass gar was filled with liquid formaldehyde and the ear he often boosted came from a “Sassy Nigger” that dared register to vote back when the day. He was so fond of telling the story and he told the story so often I came to know it word by word.

“Yes.. I think he is still cutting.” I paused.

“Good man! You know Richard Southworth was a good friend of mine. He's my Masonic Brother. He was the only one that stood by men when your mother caused all that trouble. Jim Yager and Tom Yates. Good men, fine men, upstanding men.” Dad said.

“Yes,” I said, swallowing hard.

“You alright with their son?” Dad said.

“I'm fine dad.” I said.

“You know,” Dad said, his voice shifting a little. “There has been something that has been bothering me a little. You're changing. First you don't return my thoughtful letter with another letter, second you’re grow your hair out. And third, you did not accept my friend request on Myspace. It's like I don't even know you anymore.”

I then hung up  the phone up and took a deep breath. “FUCK!” I yelled.

“I'm not getting a haircut, I'm not getting anything!” I yelled. I then threw myself on the bed and screamed into my pillow as I kicked my feet.

End Chapter 5