so many questions, will you?” Then Mom rolled her eyes skyward at the man as if to say, I did tell you what he was like, didn’t I?
“So why is your car in Dad’s space, if you’re not from the school or a policeman or a doc?”
“Dylan,” Mom said, “this is Tony. He gave me a lift back from the shops.”
“But it’s too early to go to the shops.”
“Don’t be so silly—it’s never too early to go to the shops.”
“But you never go to the shops in the morning.”
“Well, I did this morning.”
“What did you buy?”
“Dylan, what’s the problem with me going to the shops first thing in the morning, eh?”
“It’s just a bit weird, that’s all.”
“I just gave your mom a lift back because she had lots of bags, Dylan,” the tall man said.
“You’re not my dad.”
“DYLAN,” Mom shouted.
“Well, he’s not.”
“Tony knows that.”
“So tell him to get his car out of Dad’s space, then.”
“I’ll do no such thing.”
“Look, Moira, I need to be going anyway,” the man said.
“At least finish your tea first, Tony.”
“I’ve got an airport run in half an hour anyway,” he said.
“Are you a pilot?” I asked him.
“No, Dylan. I’m a cabbie.”
“A what?”
“A taxi driver.”
“So that car outside is a taxi?”
“Yes, and it will be out of your dad’s space in a jiffy.”
“Does that mean soon?”
“Dylan, will you please stop being rude to Tony?” Mom said. The anger had returned to her voice.
“But taxi drivers aren’t supposed to come into passengers’ houses for cups of tea,” I said.
“I couldn’t agree more, but your mom and me go back a long way.”
“We were old school friends,” Mom added.
“But how come I’ve never heard you talking about him?”
“Well, that’s because—” the taxi man butted in, but I didn’t let him finish.
“Me and Amir are school pals and we see each other all the time and talk about each other when we’re not at school, and his mom and dad know well who I am even though I’m not allowed in his house.”
“Tony and I just rediscovered each other recently by accident.”
“At the shops?” I said.
“Online,” the taxi man said.
“On Facebook,” Mom said.
“But you said that Facebook was for freaks, Mom.”
The taxi man laughed and so did Mom, like they were sharing some secret joke. I hated them both.
“Many of the people who use it are, Dylan, but there are nice folk who use it as well.”
“Someone posted an old school photo on my wall, and your mother was tagged in it,” the taxi man said. I didn’t use Facebook, so I didn’t really understand what the bloomin’ Nora he was on about. “So I sent a friend request, and then we were writing on each other’s wall talking about the old times and that.”
“But we don’t have a wall,” I said.
He laughed again. “It’s not a real wall, Dylan. It’s what they call your page on Facebook,” he said.
“Why don’t they just call it a page?” I asked.
“This young chap’s a right character, Moira, a real live wire.”
“That’s not even the half of it,” Mom said.
“Right, listen, I’d best be off—got to get that fare.”
“Are you sure, Tony?” Mom said. She sounded disappointed.
“Afraid so. It’s a biggie.”
“Yeah, right, Tony,” Mom said.
I felt both their peepers on me. I wasn’t moving for no taxi man.
“See you, mister,” I said, and there was this dead long pause.
“Okay, Moira, I’ll, er . . .”
“BYE,” I said.
Then he headed for the front door.
“I’ll see you out, Tony,” Mom said, jumping from her seat. “ You , stay here.” She had this witch’s croak in her voice, making me feel scared. “I mean it, Dylan. Stay here.” She said this in one of her angry-soft-voice ways.
So I stood like a pure mad plank in the kitchen, looking at the half-empty mugs of tea. At the front door there were more whispers and a wee giggle from Mom and the taxi man. Then nothing.
“So why is your car in Dad’s space, if you’re not from the school or a policeman or a doc?”
“Dylan,” Mom said, “this is Tony. He gave me a lift back from the shops.”
“But it’s too early to go to the shops.”
“Don’t be so silly—it’s never too early to go to the shops.”
“But you never go to the shops in the morning.”
“Well, I did this morning.”
“What did you buy?”
“Dylan, what’s the problem with me going to the shops first thing in the morning, eh?”
“It’s just a bit weird, that’s all.”
“I just gave your mom a lift back because she had lots of bags, Dylan,” the tall man said.
“You’re not my dad.”
“DYLAN,” Mom shouted.
“Well, he’s not.”
“Tony knows that.”
“So tell him to get his car out of Dad’s space, then.”
“I’ll do no such thing.”
“Look, Moira, I need to be going anyway,” the man said.
“At least finish your tea first, Tony.”
“I’ve got an airport run in half an hour anyway,” he said.
“Are you a pilot?” I asked him.
“No, Dylan. I’m a cabbie.”
“A what?”
“A taxi driver.”
“So that car outside is a taxi?”
“Yes, and it will be out of your dad’s space in a jiffy.”
“Does that mean soon?”
“Dylan, will you please stop being rude to Tony?” Mom said. The anger had returned to her voice.
“But taxi drivers aren’t supposed to come into passengers’ houses for cups of tea,” I said.
“I couldn’t agree more, but your mom and me go back a long way.”
“We were old school friends,” Mom added.
“But how come I’ve never heard you talking about him?”
“Well, that’s because—” the taxi man butted in, but I didn’t let him finish.
“Me and Amir are school pals and we see each other all the time and talk about each other when we’re not at school, and his mom and dad know well who I am even though I’m not allowed in his house.”
“Tony and I just rediscovered each other recently by accident.”
“At the shops?” I said.
“Online,” the taxi man said.
“On Facebook,” Mom said.
“But you said that Facebook was for freaks, Mom.”
The taxi man laughed and so did Mom, like they were sharing some secret joke. I hated them both.
“Many of the people who use it are, Dylan, but there are nice folk who use it as well.”
“Someone posted an old school photo on my wall, and your mother was tagged in it,” the taxi man said. I didn’t use Facebook, so I didn’t really understand what the bloomin’ Nora he was on about. “So I sent a friend request, and then we were writing on each other’s wall talking about the old times and that.”
“But we don’t have a wall,” I said.
He laughed again. “It’s not a real wall, Dylan. It’s what they call your page on Facebook,” he said.
“Why don’t they just call it a page?” I asked.
“This young chap’s a right character, Moira, a real live wire.”
“That’s not even the half of it,” Mom said.
“Right, listen, I’d best be off—got to get that fare.”
“Are you sure, Tony?” Mom said. She sounded disappointed.
“Afraid so. It’s a biggie.”
“Yeah, right, Tony,” Mom said.
I felt both their peepers on me. I wasn’t moving for no taxi man.
“See you, mister,” I said, and there was this dead long pause.
“Okay, Moira, I’ll, er . . .”
“BYE,” I said.
Then he headed for the front door.
“I’ll see you out, Tony,” Mom said, jumping from her seat. “ You , stay here.” She had this witch’s croak in her voice, making me feel scared. “I mean it, Dylan. Stay here.” She said this in one of her angry-soft-voice ways.
So I stood like a pure mad plank in the kitchen, looking at the half-empty mugs of tea. At the front door there were more whispers and a wee giggle from Mom and the taxi man. Then nothing.
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