East of Denver by Gregory Hill Page B

Vaughn’s and then there was a panic and we were hiding in the bathroom and Vaughn’s mom fell down and we escaped and then nothing.
    Clarissa put another plate of pancakes in front of me, this time without the whipped cream. She said, “I think he’s remembering.”
    â€œLucky him,” said Pa.
    â€œFun night, huh?” said Clarissa.
    I squirted syrup on the pancakes. “I’d rather not talk right now.”
    Clarissa shrugged.
    Clarissa had kissed my pa in Vaughn’s bathroom.
    I put my fork down. “Where did you sleep last night?”
    â€œThat’s none of his business, is it, Emmett?”
    â€œNone of your damn business,” said Pa.
    â€œIt’s my house,” I said.
    Pa corrected me. “Not yet, it ain’t.”
    I put my fork down. “I’m going to take a shower. This will take me approximately fifteen minutes. When I get out of the bathroom, I’d like you to be gone, Clarissa.”
    â€œYou gonna drive me home?” She looked out the window. “Or do I need to call a cab?”
    â€œYou’re clever. Figure something out.”
    ----
    I showered until the hot water was gone. And then I stayed in the cold water until I started shivering. Shameful. I was responsible for Pa.
    After I got dressed, I went back to the kitchen. Clarissa was gone and so was Pa. So was Pa’s pickup.
    Clarissa had left a stack of pancakes on the table. There was also a note:
    Â 
    Emmett is driving me back to my car. I’ll make sure he gets home. It’s true. Crutchfield bought the airplane for $20.
    Â 
    I sat at the table, listening to the clock tick.
    Eventually, I ate the pancakes. They weren’t bad for an emetophobic anorexic.
    ----
    As I was washing my plate, Dad pulled into the driveway. Clarissa’s little car followed. She honked and drove away. I watched from the kitchen window. Dad idled the pickup in front of the garage for a few minutes. He bent down in the cab, looking for the garage-door opener. He finally gave up and shut off the truck.
    He stepped out of the pickup in a very good mood. My own father sleeping with a girl I went to school with. With an eating disorder.
    I stepped outside to greet him. He asked, “You just get up?”
    â€œI been up.”
    â€œI’ve already gotten a whole lot of things done today.”
    â€œSuch as?”
    â€œThis and that.” He was smiling real big.
    â€œTerrific.” I didn’t want to babysit him. I needed a babysitter for my own self. I led Pa into the house, made him brush his teeth, and then sat him in his recliner. “Watch TV. I’ll be back.”
    ----
    I took the pickup to the Keaton State Bank. Dad’s airplane was parked in the grass behind the building.
    I went in. Clarissa wasn’t working. The teller was Charlotte Sackett. A fifty-year-old woman with long fingernails and frosted hair. I liked her all right. She used to go to all the high school basketball games. She cheered loud and cackled insults at the referees.
    â€œHey, Charlotte.”
    She smiled at me. “I heard you were back in town.”
    I said, “Here I am.” I didn’t feel much like talking. “Is Mr. Crutchfield in today?”
    Charlotte half-rolled her eyes. “He sure is. But he’s pretty darned busy.” She shrugged apologetically.
    â€œI was hoping I could talk to him.”
    She squinted at me. “You look so much like your dad. How is he doing, anyway?”
    I do not understand why some people feel compelled to screw up a perfectly normal conversation by bringing up the most depressing subject they can think of.
    â€œHe’s on a long, slow decline.” I said it with a smile.
    â€œWell, tell him hi for me.”
    â€œWill do. Can I see Mike?”
    â€œHe’s awful busy. You understand.”
    â€œCharlotte, I need to talk to him about that airplane he’s been flying. It’ll take five minutes. I just