Page 69 of Pucking the Grump

“Sounds good, thanks, Dad.” I step into the hug he offers, squeezing him tight, things feeling easier between us than they have in a very long time. When we step back, I add, “I’ll reach out later this week. Maybe we can grab dinner or something when you guys are back from Utah?”

His lips curve. “I’d like that. We could go to that sushi place you like.”

“Sounds perfect.” I lift a hand as I move toward the counter to order. “Have a good day. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” he says, looking like a different man than the scowling one I encountered when I first walked through the door.

Stone did good work here.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to make him sorry that he sent me in blind. After all, I would have been happy to meet my dad for oatmeal. Stone could have warned me and still left my father in the dark.

I ponder the best way to get my revenge as I wait for his order.

Halfway home, the answer becomes clear as Roger spots me from his usual hang-out spot at the base of the largest tree on the block. “Remy, how’s it going, girl?” he asks, a big grin on his lightly wrinkled face. “Come chat with an old man for a while. I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“I’m actually on my way to work, Roger,” I say, pausing at the corner. “But if you’ve got some time this morning, Stone is stuck at home with a bum leg. And he was just telling me the other day how much he’d love to hear more about the C.I.A.’s involvement in the Chilean uprising and how that pertains to the U.S.’s role in suppressing the evolution of democratically chosen socialist governments in foreign countries.”

“All in the name of pushing their own oppressive capitalist agenda,” Roger says, falling neatly into my little trap.

But it’s a gentle trap, and he’s obviously looking for some company this morning.

“Totally.” I nod toward the other side of the street. “You want to come back to the apartment with me? You and Stone can have some coffee and hash it all out.”

Roger’s blue eyes light up. “Make that tea for me and you’ve got a deal, lady.” He bounds up from his perch, slinging his big backpack over one shoulder as he joins me at the corner. “I’m trying to cut back on caffeine. A little’s good, but too much, and my heart starts racing something fierce.”

“I hear you,” I say as we cross the street, the charms and bells on his pack jingling pleasantly. “I cut my afternoon coffee, but I need at least two cups in the morning to feel fully alive.”

He hums beneath his breath. “You’re alive even when your mind’s sleepy and your heart is easy. Don’t let the bastards convince you that wired for sound and grinding your way into an early grave out is the only way. You gotta keep questioning the premise, Remy. Every day, every premise, every thought, this toxic culture indoctrinated into your head and told you was the natural order.”

“You’re right. Excellent point, Roger.” I smile as I add, “You should talk to Stone about that after you give him his history lesson.”

* * *

Ten minutes later, we push through the door into the apartment. When Stone sees Roger behind me, he looks surprised, but not displeased.

He’s had Roger over a few times before, usually to let him have a shower in the men’s locker room at the gym or go for a swim with Stone in the summer.

So, while unplanned, this is not a completely shocking development.

“Hey, Roger. What’s shaking, man?” Stone asks, lifting an arm from where he’s settled at the kitchen table.

“Nothing, brother,” Roger says, dumping his pack at the door and dropping down into a squat to pet Barb, who’s wiggling happily at his feet. “Sorry to hear you’ve got a bum leg, though. But don’t worry, I’ll keep you entertained. All the best education is entertaining, too. That’s the only way you ever get people to listen. You gotta make the medicine taste good on the way down.”

“Oh yeah?” Stone asks, widening his eyes meaningfully at me over Roger’s head in a way that asks “what the fuck is this?”

“I told Roger how excited you were to learn more about the coup in Chile,” I say, smiling as I quickly breeze over to set his oatmeal bag in front of him. I avoid the hand he swipes at my arm as I hustle back across the room. “I’d love to stay, but I have to get to work.”

At the door, I turn back to Stone. “My dad says hi, by the way, and thanks. But we’ll both kill you if you ever do something like that to us again.”

“Noted,” Stone says, forcing a slightly nauseous smile as Roger moves to join him at the table.

But then, Stone did mention that he might “stab his eardrums out with a rusty nail” if he had to listen to any more of Roger’s anti-capitalism spiels…

“So, the first thing you’ve got to accept to understand how things got so ugly in Chile,” Roger begins, clasping his hands together, “is that the global financial system is designed to keep developing nations down.” He pulls out the chair closest to Stone’s, careful not to crush Barb, who seems much more excited about lecture time than her dad. “When other countries socialize for the good of the people, we label them enemies of freedom and attack. Full steam ahead. And why’s that, Stone?”

Stone pulls in a breath, presumably to ask why, but Roger’s already answering his own question. “Because the prosperity of the global north has always depended on extracting labor and resources from the global south. On subjugation and oppression, Stone. It’s not a bug in the system, friend, it’s a feature.”

With a final smile and a flutter of my fingers, I head out, not feeling an ounce of sympathy for my meddling boyfriend.

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