“You know this isn’t a game, right?”
“I get that you’re serious, Dad.” Creed starts laughing.
What has gotten into this kid? Is this how he is dealing with the grief?
“You’re right, she’s totally trying to make you fall in love with her. I mean, it isn’t every day a woman sends you a picture of herself in lingerie.”
“WHAT?” I spin around to find my son laughing so hard he’s practically falling off the stool.
“She gave you books, Dad. The most flirtatious books known to mankind.” He slips off, tumbling to the ground, but doesn’t stop laughing.
Books? Why would a woman who doesn’t know me feel the need to gift me books? I slide them over and look at each title: How to Raise Teenagers, What to Do When You Find Your Teenager Drinking, Single Parents and Teenagers, Making It Through the Teenage Stage.
“Who does that woman think she is?” I grab the stack and storm out of the house.
Ignoring the bell, I pound on the door until it opens.
With her hair down and shoes off, she does the perfect impression of a fully domesticated woman. Sexy…
“Why are you pounding on my door after telling me to get out?”
Huh? Oh, um. I hold up the present.
“They’re books. Hardly worth pounding on a stranger’s door over.”
“What were you thinking, woman?”
There goes that straight spine and those angry eyes again. “That I was politely hinting that you need to control your teenage son. That I was kindly not calling the cops or my lawyer to deal with the drunken teenagers throwing a wild party at your house last night. That I was giving you the benefit of the doubt since you appear to be a single father trying to hold it together. My mistake. Men like you don’t understand kindness and polite responses. Maybe I should learn to grunt and growl like you when I’m irritated.”
Don’t laugh.
Don’t laugh. That woman just insulted your parenting skills.
“Do you think teenagers drinking is funny? Because I don’t. The number two cause of teenage death in this country is drinking and driving. Think about that while you let teenagers go wild over there at all hours of the night.”
Wild? Drunken? Saber. She’s talking about Saber. “What, did you grow up in a convent? You had to in order to think that was a wild party. Because that wasn’t even close to a mild party by anyone's standards. I’ll have you know that I didn’t condone that child’s behavior. His parent came to pick him up.They’re starting him in therapy to deal with his friend’s death, and they’re dealing with the stupidity of drinking and driving.”
“He’s in therapy?” She stares at me.
“Yeah. So you can butt out of my business and keep your opinions to yourself about my parenting. If I let my kid have a beer or two in the privacy of my home, it’s none of your business or anyone else’s.”
“It’s illegal—”
Has no one actually read the laws in this country? “A teenager drinking in their home with parental supervision is legal in most states.”
“Kids’ moral growth is everyone’s business. They are our future, and ignoring their needs won’t help.”
“I’m not ignoring my kid. But I will be ignoring you until you move out.” I shove the books back into her arms and stomp away.
The judgey cloistered woman has no idea what she’s talking about. No idea at all.
And she probably made me burn dinner. She needs to go. This woman is a menace.
“So what did she do? Did she throw herself at you?” Creed isn’t helping.
“She was upset about what happened last night. And no, she didn’t throw herself at me.” Yet…that’s how they work.
“She saw us drinking and didn’t call the cops? Mrs. Florintine would have. She did when Liha down the street threw a kegger when her parents went on vacation.”
