Surviving Valencia

My parents were silent. My mother glared at my father while he looked down at the table. I thought of my tiny home on wheels that Bruce Dash was perfecting, and momentarily considered offering it to my parents. I sipped my water instead to keep my mouth from saying anything it should not say.

“What can I get for you folks?” asked the waitress.

“I will have one of those mocha cappuccino drinks if you’ve got it, two eggs, over easy, uh, white toast, easy on the butter, a couple of pancakes, make them blueberry, two strips of bacon, two sausage links, and some cheesy hash browns,” said my mother.

“Two scrambled eggs, white toast, and orange juice,” said my dad.

“Same for me,” Adrian and I said in unison.

“Oh, thanks. You’re making me feel like a pig,” said my mother.

“How long do you think it will take to get the house fixed up again?” I asked them.

“Months. Months,” said my mother.

“It might not be that bad,” said my dad. “The kitchen has some smoke and water damage, but the rest of the house isn’t too bad. I’ve got to say, though, it smells like smoke.”

“I am too old to go through something like this,” my mom said loudly, impassioned, like someone on stage. People at neighboring tables looked over at her.

The waitress set down the mocha before my mother. It was topped with half a can of whipped cream and plenty of sprinkles.

“Mmm, delish,” said my mom, sucking off the spoon, her mood instantly brightening. “I could get used to this!”

Chapter 72

After a contentious Scrabble-filled night, followed by the discovery the next morning that all the bars of French-milled soap had gone missing from the bathrooms, Adrian and I drove my parents to Timber Oaks Carefree Living for Seniors and rented an apartment for them. We were able to talk the leasing agent into signing them for just a three-month lease. Adrian wrote out the check while my parents thumbed through the health club brochure. My mother quickly forgot that she was in turmoil once she saw their new home.

“Look at this Jacuzzi bathtub!” she squealed during the tour.

My father was no better. “Underground heated parking for both of us? Patricia, we gotta get back up to Hudson and bring my truck down here.”

“This refrigerator has an ice maker,” said my mother, pressing the lever and watching ice spew out onto the floor.

“Careful where you step,” the leasing agent said politely to the rest of us, as if my mother had not just caused it.

“I’ve been wondering, but forgot to ask,” said my father, turning the remote controlled fireplace off and on, “why is it that your cat is black, but everywhere you look around what’s her name’s house, there’s white hair?”

“Alexa. Her name is Alexa,” I said.

“That’s what happens to cat hair when it falls out,” said Adrian. “It turns white.”

The leasing consultant opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it again and smiled, wisely making the decision to stay uninvolved.

“Oh yeah, I knew that,” said my dad, nodding thoughtfully.

“Everybody knows that,” said my mother.

Chapter 73

“Are they really gone?” asked Adrian.

“Yes,” I said. “I mean, I hope so.”

It was amazing how they had totaled Alexa’s house in just one day. We had just gotten back from returning the cat to the pet store. It had been sadder than I had anticipated and my head was throbbing from crying.

“It’s Saturday night. Do you want to go to a movie?” Adrian asked.

“Sure, we could do that. But first, I have to talk to you now that I finally have the chance.”