Tribulation House: Reloaded

Chapter 48

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It was a long and exhausting drive back to Kansas City, but I finally got home late at night. Just dropped into the bed next to the wife. Still in my clothes. I must have been out like a light.

The next morning, I got up bright and early. I didn’t see the wife anywhere, didn’t hear or smell anything resembling breakfast. I showered, shaved, and put on clean clothes. Grabbed the cell phone off the charger. The wife must have put it there. My head was still buzzing from nerves and lack of sleep, but I felt far better now than I had in days.

Downstairs, I was able to catch the boy before he popped out the door for school. “I need your help with something this morning.”

He slumped his shoulders, backpack sliding down his arm. “I was just headed to school.”

I’m sure I squinted at him. “How did you know you were going to have school today?”

“We have it every day.”

I wasn’t in the mood for a theological debate. Not this morning. “I know, but you’re going to have to go into school late today. Your ol’ dad needs some assistance.”

“I have to turn in my assignment today.” He shifted his eyes toward the open door. “And my ride is already here.”

“You can turn your assignment in later. Now, go out and tell them you have a ride already. I’ll give you a ride to school.”

While he went to follow orders, I went in the kitchen. No sign of the wife or the daughter. No sign of breakfast. No nothing.

First order of business, I needed some juice. But of course, the wife had cleaned the fridge out for the Rapture, so there was nothing.

I combed through the cabinets until I found an unopened can of peaches in syrup. I was hardly in a position to choose anything different. I was digging through the drawers looking for a can opener when I heard the boy come in. “Do you know where the can opener is? Your mother has hidden it from me.”

He gave a sigh and grabbed something off the counter. “It’s right here.”

I took the can opener and twisted the knob to cut open the can of peaches, almost dreading the eventual results. “I need you to help me take this truck back to the dealer.”

“Oh?” I couldn’t quite place that tone of voice. Disbelief? Mockery?

“Do you know where your mother and sister are this morning?”

“Rachel stayed with a friend last night. She must be in school by now. Mom went to the mall. I think she is also making some returns.”

The lid came loose. I cut my finger trying to pull it out of the can.

“What about the boat?”

I wrapped my finger in a paper towel. “What about it?”

“Are you keeping the boat?”

“We’ll park it in the yard for now and come back for it later.”

“But won’t we need the truck to—”

“Look!” I slammed my hand on the counter. Blood spattered. “I don’t need you to understand this, I just need you to do this.” I took the paper towel and tried to wipe the blood off the counter, but it just smeared. “This is my story. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

The boy grumbled something.

“Look, just help me with this and then you can go take a vacation or something.”

“Or go to school?”

I flashed him my That’s Enough look. “No more of your smart mouth. Now help me park the boat and unhitch it.”

I didn’t want the peaches and syrup, so I dumped the can in garbage. We headed out through the garage to the front, where I’d parked the truck and boat at the curb. I pointed to the truck cab. “Son, I need you to put the truck in gear and back the boat right over here for me.” I motioned to the space between our garage and the Mendels’ garage.

The boy scrunched up his face. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“But I’ve never done that before.”

“I am going to guide you in.” I motioned again to the spot between the two garages. “Piece of cake.”

The boy got in the truck and started her up. He put her in gear and craned his neck to look over his shoulder.

“Use your mirrors, son!” If I pushed him, I knew he could rise to the challenge. “Angle your truck the other way!” Just push. “You’re going to jackknife! Pull up and try again!” He could rise to the challenge. “Your mirrors! Check your mirrors!” Just push.

It took a good fifteen or twenty minutes of trial and error. The boy finally pulled all the way out into the street. It blocked oncoming traffic, but he finally got the truck at the correct angle. Finally got the boat at the correct angle. Started backing it across the driveway and then the yard.

Through the whole process, I tried to figure out what I would say to the boat dealer. I certainly did not want them to think I was hard up for money. Did not want them to think I was not in control of the situation.

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I barely heard the crash. I blinked my vision back and was staring at my boat inside of the Mendels’ garage. A lot of extra plastic and metal and wood scrunched up where the two had collided.

The garage door and the boat were ruined, and I only had one person to blame. “How could you do that?”

The boy leaped out of the truck. “I couldn’t see! You were the one guiding me in!”

“You did this on purpose.”

“What?”

“You and your mother just like to see me suffer.” I shook my head as I calculated the immense cost to repair the damage. To the garage. To the boat. To my life.

“How can you say that?” The boy’s voice trembled. Was he going to cry at a time like this? That was certainly not going to help.

I went to the truck bumper and unhitched the boat. We would have to extricate it by hand. Towing it could only make it worse. “Go move the truck.”

“What?”

“Move the truck! Try and be useful!”

I barely paid attention as he got in the truck, sobbing. Barely noticed when he shifted into gear. Barely heard the tires squealing. Barely noticed the truck rocket down the street.

All I knew was I could never get my money back on this boat. What would the mob say about this?

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There are 70 chapters for Tribulation House. You can purchase the whole eBook from Amazon, Apple, Kobo, B&N, and more! 

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