She offered to let me stay home from school, and I took her up on it for the first two days. By day three the sight of my house through her windows was driving me around the bend, trapped as I was within her four walls, hemmed in on all sides by lace doilies and frilly curtains and pillow shams, and floral fabric coverlets. I have to admit that school was only marginally better, though. In this new topsy turvy world, no Josh or anyone else jostled me, mocked me, or otherwise made my life hell. I got sympathetic looks instead, though none from the tree guy that I'd imagined just before my life turned inside out. I was called into the principal's office, where they asked about my current living situation, and I left there wondering if my answers to those gentle but probing questions was going to get me placed into a home sooner rather than later. Teachers not asking me for my homework, or taking me aside after class telling me not to worry about things felt even stranger. I wondered if they would sing this same tune when Dad came back and reality went back on course.
I felt a strange detachment to all the goings on, as despite best efforts, it all wasn't quite real. This feeling was replaced by a thrill of excitement however when I made it back to Mrs. McPherson’s.
“Oh good, you're back,” she said. “Mr. Romney is here to take you home with him.”
I looked over to her sofa, where a man of average height was standing up. Next to him was a familiar figure. Tree Boy smiled at me, inclining his head at me silently in greeting.
“I knew your dad,” Mr Romney was saying as he thrust his hand forward for me to shake.
Really? He anted me to swallow that line? If he'd known my dad, then why had I never heard of him, let alone never seen him? He certainly had not been around before Mom had died, nor after. I didn't recall any sympathy cards from this guy, either. And I'm pretty sure I’d have recalled him and Tree Boy here, who I assumed was his son or something.
I decided to play along though. I'd seen Tree Boy at my school just before everything went strange. I'd seen him again, doing that whacked out melt into the tree routine too, spying on me or something while I was at the park. Dad was gone, and I was certain these two were somehow connected and I bet Mr. Romney was probably the brains of the operation, or close to whoever was.
I mean, just look at him. While Tree Boy was not much older than me to look at, probably about 20 or so at most, Mr Romney was a man of early middle age who had on a suit I could tell was expensive, wore some kind of fancy aftershave, and had that whole plastic smile and perfect hair normally only seen on oily politicians out o gouge everyone but their fellow rich buddies TV evangelists looking for converts and donations. Just what Dad had done to warrant these guys disappearing him and trying to make think I’d lost my mind, I did not know. I was definitely going to find out though, and get my Dad back. I'd teach them a lesson about trying to mess around with someone just because they think he's just a kid. In the meantime, I'd just play along and bide my time while getting some answers.
Romney's house was a glass and metal one story box that squatted on a flat landscape as if someone had dropped off a parcel and forgotten it. The inside was just as inspiring, with lots of wide open space and a bare minimum of furniture. There wasn't any art to be seen anywhere, or houseplants. No books either. It was like a stage set for an ego of one, with no room for anything else. Where their wasn't glass for windows, there was glass of another sort- mirrors. Romney must really love to see himself.
I was shown to the room that was to be mine and realized that my bags had not been taken from the car. I turned to go get them, but felt a hand on my arm.
“Everything you need is right here,” Romney said.
“My clothes-”
“ALL you need is here,” he said with more emphasis.
Oooookayyyyy... so in this scenario, my old clothes are unusable and have been replaced by what?
I put on a false bright smile.
“Thanks, Mr. Romney!” I walked over to the dresser and opened a drawer. “gee, you even bought me some cool clothes!”
Actually, they looked like my old clothes, only with fancier brand names, at least from what I could see from what was on top.
“You're very welcome! I want you to feel at home here. You're not an obligation, rather you are like the son I never had, though I regret the circumstances.”
I bet you do, you snake.
Romney stood there, watching me intently while I checked out everything in my new room. I would have sat down on the bed and thought about things, but with him staring at me like that, I had to distrct myself. Talk about being creepy. He didn't even say anything. He just stood there, and let his eyes follow me. His face kept the same bland expression, not smiling, not frowning, not anything. It weirded me out big time. I couldn't tell if he was happy I seemed to like everything, or if he was thinking about doing some weird twisted shit to me later or what. I'd seen dummies at a department store with more emotion.
Finally, he actually said something.
“Let's go. It's dinner time, and the food will get cold.”
I womndered how he knew this, as he hadn't even looked at his watch, and the alarm clock in my new room was not facing his way. Still, I wasn't going toa rgue with the man. Better to make him think I was buying this whole charade. That way, he'd think he had me fooled and sooner or later let something slip because he wouldn't be having to to try to convince a doubting me.
Dinner was a strange, awkward affair. The table was round and seated six, but only myself, Romney, anf Tree boy were there. The food was homecooked stuff, but not in serving dishes on the table like my Mom used to serve it. We also didn't have the same food, so it oddly felt as if we'd sent an order for a set meal back to the kitchen like you'd do at a restaurant.
Romney's plate held mostly meat. And by mostly, I mean nearly the whole plate was covered with some kind of meat. It almost resembled a sampler platter, though the portions were too big for that. Chicken, steak, bacon, and apork chop all vied for plate space, with a huge mound of mashed potatoes alongside. Gravy ran over everything. My plate just had anormal serving of mashed potatoes, with a single porkchop and a side of peas for company. A small amount of gravy sat in a well in my potaties. Tree Boy's plae cut up fruit, salad leaves, what looked to me to be raw garden peas. I didn't see how aguy, especially one his size, could live eating like that. I'd starve, that's for sure.
There was no conversation during the meal either. Romney simply stared at each of us int urn as he tore into his food. He might have had the outer appearance of a perfect conservative politician but man, when he ate...I half way expected him to snort like a pig or something. Tree Boy seemed unfazed by it all. He simply kept his eyes down on his palte, and ate quietly, taking delicate bites and chewing thoroughly. He seemed to be in his own little world there, unaware of anything but himself and his plate. Me, I kept waiting for Romeny to say something. Or to think my looking at him was me about to make a play for his food, so that he'd lose his cool completely and hit me over the head with a drumstick or something.
That didn't happen though. He gnawed his meat greedily and cracked the bones and sucked out the marrow, then seemed to recall his almost priggish manners as he picked up his napkin and carefully wiped his fingers clean, then dabbed at his mouth. I wasn't quite finsihed eating by then, but Tree Boy pushed his plate away at about the same moment as romeny's napkin made it back t the table's top. Romeny pushed his chair away from the table and it seemed as if that was some sort of signal because Tree Boy quickly followed suit. Romeny stared at me hard, one eyebrow arched up like Mr Spock, as if waiting for me to get a clue. I put my fork down and stood up. No sense getting the man pissed at me over something stupid. I'd mostly finished anyway.
©2013-2014 Lillian McKinnon. All Rights Reserved.
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