to do something about that husband of hers. You’re right to be concerned about him.” His tone demurred into a cretin’s. “I’m sure Tina will be receptive to anything you suggest.”
Picking Up the Tab
Craig washed his hands in the bathroom at The Italian Garden Restaurant, having been sent to a new memory. In this part of his life, it was the night of his high school prom. He was on an arranged date with Janna Cunningham. Janna was dumped by Bobby Keaton, and Craig didn’t have a date to begin with, so it worked out for the both of them. The majority of the kids with them tonight he wasn’t familiar with except for Rose Farrow, and she was the one in his Biology class who had arranged his date with Janna. Senior year, and this was the final hoorah, aside from graduation. His powder-blue suit was purchased from the thrift store. His mother bought it for fifty bucks. The waistline was a tad too tight, and the extra tension made it feel like he was full of gas, but this was the big night.
Prom night.
Brandon’s pep talk before he left the house went like this: “You’re eighteen and graduating. Go attack the world. I’ll help you get an apartment.” And you'll help me get the hell out of your house, right, Daddy?
Why had he wanted to go to prom so badly? He didn’t have that many friends, and his best friend, Alice, refused to attend. She detested it and wrote up anti-prom posters in the school cafeteria to promote her cause. Pictures of couples holding babies, facts about early teen pregnancy, the cost of raising children, and the statistics of condoms and birth control methods failing was her poster material. Alice had been sent to the principal’s office, but beyond a talking to and a call to her parents, that was the extent of the reprimand. He didn’t relish prom either, but that was before he had a shot at dating Janna Cunningham.
He’d taken a piss before the memory started, and now, he washed his hands and held them under the air dryer. Standing there, Craig realized something.
Damn it, I missed Parker’s answer to my question. Dr. Krone, you’re timing is shit. The look on the priest’s face was priceless. Caught. The man even blushed. That meant it was true. He was having fun with his mother between the sheets.
But now he had a new worry. This night was one of the most embarrassing in the history of Craig Horsy. He didn’t want to leave the bathroom. He was stuck standing there, nailed to the floor in fear.
If this is your idea of therapy, Dr. Krone, then you suck.
“I have to leave sometime.” He squeezed his fists together. “You won’t let me go into the next memory until I do so, huh? Is that the catch?” Growing defiant, he shoved down his apprehensions and built himself up. “I’ll be proactive. Fuck it.”
He trudged out of the bathroom. Ahead of him, the restaurant was dimly lit. A semi-romantic Saturday evening at a high-priced restaurant. The walls were styled with columns like an Italian coliseum. Painted murals of vineyards decorated the walls, men and women in rough-neck clothing picking precious grapes from a vineyard. He saved money from working extra shifts at the Burger Barn for two months to afford this expensive evening, but his excitement and hard work was ill-fated.
The table in the back, his table, was empty. All eight seats. Janna was missing. The bill was propped intentionally in front of his seat. The bill was over three hundred dollars.
It burned him so bad in that moment his pulse pounded and pounded. The guys at the table were jocks on the football team, and it was typical they’d play a joke on Craig Horsy, the unpopular and unknown kid. It was easy to pick on somebody without friends, he thought bitterly. And here he was the helpless victim, fooled by his gullible good intentions.
He called his father for the cash that night, but Brandon immediately turned him down, saying, “ You let those kids bamboozle you, then you’re going to fix your
Picking Up the Tab
Craig washed his hands in the bathroom at The Italian Garden Restaurant, having been sent to a new memory. In this part of his life, it was the night of his high school prom. He was on an arranged date with Janna Cunningham. Janna was dumped by Bobby Keaton, and Craig didn’t have a date to begin with, so it worked out for the both of them. The majority of the kids with them tonight he wasn’t familiar with except for Rose Farrow, and she was the one in his Biology class who had arranged his date with Janna. Senior year, and this was the final hoorah, aside from graduation. His powder-blue suit was purchased from the thrift store. His mother bought it for fifty bucks. The waistline was a tad too tight, and the extra tension made it feel like he was full of gas, but this was the big night.
Prom night.
Brandon’s pep talk before he left the house went like this: “You’re eighteen and graduating. Go attack the world. I’ll help you get an apartment.” And you'll help me get the hell out of your house, right, Daddy?
Why had he wanted to go to prom so badly? He didn’t have that many friends, and his best friend, Alice, refused to attend. She detested it and wrote up anti-prom posters in the school cafeteria to promote her cause. Pictures of couples holding babies, facts about early teen pregnancy, the cost of raising children, and the statistics of condoms and birth control methods failing was her poster material. Alice had been sent to the principal’s office, but beyond a talking to and a call to her parents, that was the extent of the reprimand. He didn’t relish prom either, but that was before he had a shot at dating Janna Cunningham.
He’d taken a piss before the memory started, and now, he washed his hands and held them under the air dryer. Standing there, Craig realized something.
Damn it, I missed Parker’s answer to my question. Dr. Krone, you’re timing is shit. The look on the priest’s face was priceless. Caught. The man even blushed. That meant it was true. He was having fun with his mother between the sheets.
But now he had a new worry. This night was one of the most embarrassing in the history of Craig Horsy. He didn’t want to leave the bathroom. He was stuck standing there, nailed to the floor in fear.
If this is your idea of therapy, Dr. Krone, then you suck.
“I have to leave sometime.” He squeezed his fists together. “You won’t let me go into the next memory until I do so, huh? Is that the catch?” Growing defiant, he shoved down his apprehensions and built himself up. “I’ll be proactive. Fuck it.”
He trudged out of the bathroom. Ahead of him, the restaurant was dimly lit. A semi-romantic Saturday evening at a high-priced restaurant. The walls were styled with columns like an Italian coliseum. Painted murals of vineyards decorated the walls, men and women in rough-neck clothing picking precious grapes from a vineyard. He saved money from working extra shifts at the Burger Barn for two months to afford this expensive evening, but his excitement and hard work was ill-fated.
The table in the back, his table, was empty. All eight seats. Janna was missing. The bill was propped intentionally in front of his seat. The bill was over three hundred dollars.
It burned him so bad in that moment his pulse pounded and pounded. The guys at the table were jocks on the football team, and it was typical they’d play a joke on Craig Horsy, the unpopular and unknown kid. It was easy to pick on somebody without friends, he thought bitterly. And here he was the helpless victim, fooled by his gullible good intentions.
He called his father for the cash that night, but Brandon immediately turned him down, saying, “ You let those kids bamboozle you, then you’re going to fix your
Similar Books
