I could hear Dad on the main level, the floors almost as thin as the walls, there still being places it was unwise to step. How the slumlord managed to operate was mystifying. It should have been impossible short of a very close friend, very high in city hall, or a deal signed in blood. Possibly both.
Dad wanted to move. He’d mentioned it more than once over the years, but money and work kept us where we were. If there was ever a vote as to who caused the most unintended consequences, Adam Smith, the creator of the laissez-faire school of capitalism that took hold in the 20th century, would be tied with Karl Marx, just above Charles Darwin.
From what could tell, Dad was gearing up, getting ready for some serious trouble. I always knew shit was about to go down when he got heavy in his steps.
It felt like an earthquake. The walls vibrating as the windows shook, as though in fear. They were back. It had been a few weeks, the deterrent of the cops keeping them away. With the pandemic raging, some seemed to think they were sure to be assholes with impunity.
Including, but not limited to, having make-shift raves in the empty lot next to the duplex. In violation of both noise statute, as well as the new and improved COVID-19 restrictions. Granted, Elise and I saw each other, ditto with our parents, but that was the limit of our mask-less interaction, and we’d both had the rapid test before showing up. It was just common sense. Dad already had his baseball bat by the time I got downstairs.
“Where are you going?” he demanded.
“With you, assuming you’re not calling the cops.”
“It’s far too late for that, my boy. They’ve been warned.”
“I’m coming.”
“You sure that’s a good idea? I got a call from your manager, figured you would need some space.”
“I’m okay.”
My time with Elise had helped restore calm, putting the dragon back in its cage. I was fairly certain I could get by without killing anyone. Always a good thing.
Curtains twitched on some of the other houses, particularly the other side of the duplex.
Whether it was Sara, or Elise I couldn’t properly tell. Either way, Dad knew how to carry the bat so not to be obvious. Any casual observer might have thought we were going out for an evening stroll. I wished we still had a dog.
The stereo went first. At least what passed for a stereo anyway. The set-up actually consisting of a tablet and a set of Bluetooth speakers. Both falling literally to pieces under the mighty force of Dad’s cold burning rage.
“Hey, what the fuck, man?”
The partygoer, who clearly had no sense of irony, made the mistake of stepping up to my dad. Walking right into the ‘angry look.’
“Get the hell out of here and don’t come back.”
“Or what? You’ll call the cops?”
The look moved to its next unsuspecting target, cursed with more bravado than common sense. A dark stain appearing on the front of the punk’s chinos when it fell on him like an anvil.
“Oh, no, it’s far too late for that, boyo. You didn’t listen before, so more direct action is required.”
“Just the two of you?” asked another idiot with the survival instinct of a lemming.
“Three,” Dad said, resting the bat on his shoulder, channeling Dirty Harry, “and it’s all we need.”
“Do you know who my father is?” asked a late comer, emerging from the woods with a female companion.
“No idea, have you asked your mother?”
The entitled prick stormed up, radiating privilege and indignation. At least until he got close enough to notice I was a good foot taller than him. His amazed eyes gazing up like an archeologist before the monolith.
“Leg it,” I suggested, my eyes narrowed in a cold glare.
The partygoers sprang into action, gathering up and fleeing faster than you can say ‘multiple bone fractures.’ We were never actually going to hurt them, they were just a bunch of dumb kids, but it was just a matter of making them believe we might.
“Do you think they’ll be back?”
‘Doubt it,” Dad said, picking up what was left of the tablet and speaker set.
Chapter Thirteen - Elise
It was a beautiful haze. Long after Nate’s exit, I felt him linger. The crackling energy rippling through me had yet to dissipate. My breathing slowed to a more manageable level. I never wanted the feeling to fade, but knew it had to, if I was going to get on with the rest of life.
The empty popcorn bowl and soda cans reminders of this undeniable fact. Staring at me from the desk, beside the computer with the familiar menu. Waking after the dream.
“Hi, honey.”
Returning to my skin, I turned to face Mom sitting at the kitchen table. Waiting up because of course she was.