Chapter 5: A Pot-Boiling Watched Pot

I wonder where this is going, I thought.

"You know, just casually," I said. "I stop into the arcade every once in a while to shoot the breeze with him. Is that what you mean?"

"No, I mean how much do you know about his background? Does he ever talk about the time he spent in jail?"

"Jail? Your dad was in jail? What for?" I asked before I could stop myself.

"It was nothing, really, at least according to him. When he was in college in Oregon he got picked up for selling pot back in the early 70s. He says he was just doing it for a friend, that he only did it that one time, and never even smoked a joint after that. At least that's what he claims."

"How'd you find out about this, Linda?"

"Well, I was looking through some old photo albums of my mom's and found a newspaper clipping about the arrest. I asked him about it, and that's when he told me his side of the story."

"You don't sound like you believe him. Is there something else going on?"

"I think so, Cheese. You've probably heard rumors that he sells pot to some of the high school kids, haven't you?"

"Um, uh, well, yeah, I guess so," I stammered. "But I never believed them," I added quickly.

"Oh, gimme a break," she replied hotly. "Everyone believes everything about everyone in this crappy little town!" Yikes. Guess I stepped in it there.

"Look, I'm sorry Linda. I didn't mean to upset you. I just said what I've heard around town."

"I know, I know, I know. I'm sorry, Cheese. I'm just so upset about what's been going on lately, and I don't have anyone to talk to. I just thought you'd be kind of sympathetic, and . . . maybe I'd better go."

"Look, Linda," I said. I don't have any idea what's going on with you or your dad or your accident tonight or the cops or the hospital or any damned thing. All I know is you said you wanted to talk to me, you got knocked down by a car, then you asked to see me at the hospital, then you bugged out of there, leaving me holding down a very uncomfortable chair in the waiting room trying to answer questions about which I had no idea. If you want to just drop it there and take off, that's fine. But if you've got something that you think I can help you with, that's fine too."

Linda looked a bit chastened, and I decided to take a breather after my little speech. I sipped the last of my bourbon, scratched the dog's ears, and waited for her to say or do something. After a few minutes, she said,

"Okay, Cheese, I guess I haven't been very fair to you. You don't really know me and I don't mean to impose on you, but I guess I'm going to. So here goes.

"Lately my dad's been kind of distracted. Normally he's real good about keeping up with house-type things, taking care of the place after he gets home from work, paying the bills, that sort of thing. I do my part, of course, but there's just always been things that he does and things that I do. The last couple of months, though, he's been letting things slide. He hasn't gotten the trash taken out to the curb for pick-up a few times, little things that need fixing have been left undone, and we even started getting late notices on our utility and credit card bills. I asked him if there was some sort of money problem going on, and he said no. He said things were fine, he had enough money to handle everything, but bills still were going unpaid.

"Then last week, we got a final notice on our phone bill. I decided to take care of it myself rather than bother my dad, so I opened the bill, and it was for more than three hundred bucks! Cheese, as far as I know, our phone bill has never been over thirty or forty dollars, and even that's an exception. We just aren't the kind of people who consider long-distance phone conversations a form of recreation.

"So, I decided to look up the bill, and see where all these calls were being made to. I figured there had to be a mistake somewhere. So, I checked."

She stopped talking, and for once I just kept my mouth shut, waiting for her to continue.

"Cheese, my dad's been making a lot of long-distance calls. And normally I wouldn't think too much of it, except for the fact that those calls are being made to Oregon. And Colombia. Cheese, I think my dad's getting mixed up in drugs again."

Return to The Chronicles Page for another chapter?
Visit Cheese at Old Town University's Library for searchers, science, literature, images, and more.
Or send Cheese's writer, Tom Reale, your story ideas.

Or would you like to look at the map of places?
Would you like to walk around?
Or would you like to return to the Crossroads?