The Progeny

The Progeny - Part 2

After what feels like the longest shower in the world, I'm ready to head out to work, I slip through my bedroom door unaware that I'm almost tiptoeing through the house. I'm not scared of my father, but today I'm just not mentally prepared for another outburst, I've barley slept and the confusion from yesterday is still lingering strong in my mind. As I pass the lounge I quickly glance in and sure enough there he is, he seems to look worse everyday, sometimes I think it would be a blessing in disguise if he didn't wake up, not in a selfish way for my own safety or sanity, but for himself. I can't imagine being so lost in my own grief and self pity that I slowly kill my self each day and I turn my love into hate for my only living son, hell my only living family! I mean I personally would rather be dead if it got to that.

I open the front door and am almost taken off my feet by the fresh air, it crashes against my face like an out of control ocean wave, I lap it up, inhaling it like some sort of drug, it feels good after the night I've had. As I kneel down to re-tie my lose shoelace my attention is drawn to top doorstep, it's clean, there's no blood? There's more change of me growing a third ball than there is of my father suddenly taking pride in his home and cleaning it, I mean you've heard about our rug made entirely of beer bottles and crushed cans, right? There's too much weird shit going on lately and I just want an easy life, I just want to work, make money, leave and start a new existence somewhere, is that really too much to ask? I decide that after work this evening I'll come up with a plan to find out what the hell is going on, right now I can't afford to be late so I need to shake this shit from my head and go. I deliberately walk slow, I need the extra time to think, clear my head and prepare myself of day full of "of course I can give you an oil change in under six minutes" and "of course sir, this is the best garage in phoenix, didn't you know?" I mean it's hard to be nice when you're completely and utterly pissed at the world for no good reason, but if I want to get paid I better snap out of it and fast!

It's 2pm and my mood has certainly improved. I've spent the day working on a 1930's Bentley, the owner was one of those cowboys who buys a burnt out shed on wheels and restores it to it's former glory, or as close as he can get to it, he'll later go on to sell it and make an absolute killing, lucky son of a bitch. I'm deep in thought, thinking maybe I should take a tip out of this young entrepreneurs book, make a few bucks fast, speed up the process of getting my ass as far away as I can. I'm soon brought back to reality when Mr Dixon runs in in a fluster, his chubby cheeks are flushed and his grey hair is poking out of the side of his slipping baseball cap, "Leo, Dianna just called, Millie slipped in gym class and smashed her front tooth out, I swear to God these kids will be the death of me, are you ok to lock up tonight?" he pants, for a stocky guy he can really move fast, he seems to be bouncing on his tiptoes in a state of urgency, his robust belly gently bobbing with his movements.

"Sure, no worries man, just leave your keys on the side for me" I give him a small side smile and a gentle nod, as if to show him I've got his back, he really does work too hard and he's one of those guys where everything he does is for his family. He thanks me with his eyes and leaves the room almost as quickly as he entered it. Only a few more hours of wrenching, wiring and fixing and my shift will be over and I'll be free to go home and finally give into my curiosity. I finally finish the Bentley, when I look at the clock hanging over the door I'm startled by the realization that it's nearly 9:15 in the evening, how did time slip away so fast? I mean yeah, I was pretty preoccupied with the car, but I didn't realise time had flown by at such speed. I need to get home so I can begin to plot, I need answers to so many questions, why there's blood appearing on my door step, why there's blood vanishing from my doorstep, why my windows are being opened, why my windows are being closed and why I constantly feel beady little eyes raking over every inch of my body. I have no idea how I'm going to conclude this, but my first thought is to set up a hidden camera, see if I can catch something on there, either way I'll wait until I get home to decide. I check the doors and windows for the ninth time, making sure I've locked everything and Mr Dixon isn't going to come in tomorrow to find his livelihood has been stolen, when I'm satisfied with my efforts I turn on my heels and being to head home.