Page 13 of Our Little Monster
I couldn't hold back my chuckle when he spun around to me, pointing one finger at me and nodding for me to join him.
I laughed as I sent the video to Sam. We had to enjoy this moment together regardless of whether she was here or not. I wouldn’t let her miss it. I was glad she had slid the number of her burner phone into my palm before she left. Always wanting to stay in touch regardless of where we both went or ended up.
My dad and I moved around the kitchen singing the rest of the lyrics together at the top of our lungs before we both busted out laughing as the music shuffled to something else.
I pulled out my phone checking my messages from Sam.
Sam: His dancing could use some work, but those air drums were sick. *rockstar emoji* I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. I’ll have to make it up to you for missing your birthday! I love you guys. Happy birthday! Stay safe. Xx
Me: My birthday isn’t until tomorrow. And we will do our best, you know, monsters lurking about and all.
I was sure she could hear my sarcasm even through the text on the screen.
Sam: I know, but I will always carry the record of being the first one to wish you a happy birthday, so just in case I can’t message you at 12:01 tonight, I’m telling you now!
Me: Alright, I’m sure you’ll be on time just like every other year, but we love you guys too! Stay safe. Xx
I walked over to the wall where the charger cable was and plugged in my phone. Then I moved back to where my father sat at the bar in the kitchen drinking his coffee with a second piping hot mug of coffee next to him, made exactly how I liked it.
I cradled it in my hands as I took the seat beside him and sipped my morning brew. Just that one drink sent a shock of warmth to my system that instantly made me feel more awake.
“So after coffee, if we hurry,”—he glanced up at the large farmhouse clock on the wall—“we can make it to Mickeys for their lunch specials, and of course, your favorite milkshake.”
“How much time do we have?” I asked.
“About forty-five minutes.” He took a swig from his mug.
“Challenge accepted.” I downed the rest of my coffee and ran to my room to make myself look like a human and not like a bridge troll.
His chuckle followed me down the hall from where he sat and finished his drink.
We had sat at the same booth at Mickeys my entire life. It reminded me of a larger, better, more rustic version of the dive bar we had been at. The walls were littered with decorative street signs, license plates, photos of the family members who had owned this place over the years, old pop products, and so much more.
Anytime you looked over the walls you could find something new that you didn’t see before. Burgundy worn-topped stools sat in one long row in front of the wooden sleek bar.
The same deep red matched the chevron pattern on the booth seats that wrapped around the building while in the center there was more seating. Mix-matched retro tables and chairs sat evenly spaced apart that clashed with the black checkerboard floors.
We took our seats and waited for our waitress to come over. My dad pulled out a pen from his leather jacket pocket and grabbed a napkin from the little black dispenser on the table.
He started doodling on the thin brown paper. I smiled, knowing we were going to add to our montage of art at our booth.
I ran my hand over the glass top, seeing all of our little notes and doodles from over the years placed between the glass and the tabletop like one large page in a scrapbook. My fingers lingered over the polaroid photo of my mom, dad, and me from our visit during my twentieth birthday…
If only I had known she wouldn’t have made it to next year’s, I would have cherished the moments I had with her a little longer.
I cleared my throat at the painful thoughts of her and smiled up at my dad just when he held up his drawing of me and him as stick people walking a… dog? Was it a dog or a weird dragon? I wasn’t sure.
“Is that a dog?” I asked, and he nodded happily like a kid at a candy store.
“I was thinking we could get one,” he said, and although I would love a dog and adored animals, I had to think about our circumstances.
“Dad, you know we move around too much for a dog, and what would we do with a dog on a hunt? They would just get in our way.”
“Not if they were trained,” he protested. “I think a dog would look good in my passenger seat. I can picture it now, a German Shepherd pup. We could name him Bruno, and he could sit in the front with me.”
“You already have a name picked out? Listen, Dad, if you’re lonely in the Impala, you could have just said so; I could ride with you. We don’t need a dog right now,” I said, and he rolled his eyes with a chuckle.
“No, I know, you’re right. We’ll hold off… Maybe once all these hunting days are behind us and I’m a withered old man, then we can get a dog.”
