1st 5 Pages March Workshop - Schafer

Name: Jennifer Schafer
Genre: Young Adult Contemporary
Title: BITS & PIECES

Here’s the God-awful truth. All men, as in Homo sapiens, are not created equal.

If that were true, we would all have mothers who loved us from the moment of inception. We would all have two parents who loved each other. We would all have x number of siblings who we loved despite endearingly annoying habits.

We would also all actually be men, as in male, to be created exactly equal, and that would take care of the whole procreation thing. And God created Adam, and Adam, and they sat around in the garden of Eden full of multiple identical versions of grass, trees and birds. They stared at each other, really themselves, and thought, “Well, this is pretty boring. Same-o, same-o. How about a little variety.”

Which leads to me, who was not loved by the woman in whose womb I started life seventeen years ago, and my best friend Zoe whose mother loved her so much, went on to have four more just as lovable as the first.

Rationally, I can’t miss something I never had. However, that missing piece sure upsets my balance at moments of glaring disparity, notably holidays and school functions that revolve around parental cheerleading.

Or this morning, when I meet Dad at breakfast, disheveled, sleep deprived, and in his sweats instead of dressed and pressed for work. Only the giant mug of coffee between his hands speaks of normal.

“Good morning, baby girl.”

That’s normal, too. He’ll probably call me that when he’s eighty and I’m fifty. Except, the usual routine calls for me in the pajamas, not dressed and ready to meet the day head-on.

I drop my camera bag packed for camp just inside the entry to the kitchen and make a bee-line for the refrigerator. Dad has his coffee, I require orange juice.

“Are you feeling okay?” I retrieve the plastic jug of juice and move to the cupboard for a glass.

“I’ve been better.” His voice sounds rough and sad.

“Should I wait to leave, Dad? I don’t have to go today. Early arrival is completely optional.”

Though, Zoe might be a little perturbed if I backed out after I persuaded her to go early with me. It’s already nerdy to spend a month at an academic summer camp, she argued, why show up for the voluntary prep session? Then her two youngest brothers dog-piled her.

“No, Bits. No need to change your plans.” Dad forces his mouth into a semblance of a smile.

I sit across from him and jostle the antique wooden table. Ripples cross the surface of the brown liquid in his full cup. No steam, no morning bouquet of fresh roast.

“How long have you been sitting here?” I ignore my juice and focus on his tired face.

He glances at his watch, then out the sunny picture window to his left. “A while, I guess.”

“You didn’t overdo it, out with the guys last night, did you?”

At least, I assume he was with his friends when he called last night to say he was going out after work. He’s very hard to read this morning.

“No,” he runs the long fingers of one hand through his short, salt and pepper hair. “Was by myself.” His hand forms a fist at the top of his head and he lets out a soft snort. “Might have overdone it though.”

"Have you called in sick?”

“Ha!”

The sudden, sarcastic, bark of a laugh surprises me.

“I lost my job yesterday.”

My stomach swallows my heart whole. “You were fired?”

“I’ve told you about my boss, right?” He leans into the table, his gray-blue eyes locked onto their likeness in my face.

I nod. “The one who should be fired for sexual harassment?”

“Bits,” he says in his normal, fatherly behave-yourself tone. “She’s my boss. Or she was.”

“Dad.” I can’t keep the plea out of my voice. No one, male or female, should get away with her management tactics.

“And you know I applied for a position in another department?”

“Yes.” At my suggestion.

"She recommended Karl for the job.”

“The football junkie in the office next to you?”

A gray, pained expression passes over Dad’s features. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t matter?” I repeat in the same dead tone, with an added flavor of bitterness. “You know she refused to promote you because you wouldn’t—”

“I don’t know.” Dad cuts me off, a bit of color returns to his face. He leans back in his chair with an exhausted sigh. “And neither do you.”

“So, she fired you instead?” Thoughts flare in my brain, hot with anger. Why won’t he stand up for himself?

“Not exactly.” He hedges, one finger and thumb pressed at the bridge of his nose. “They gave me three months severance.”

“What does that even mean?” I breathe through my nose to cool my head.

“I have a little time to find something else.” He drops his hand to his lap, but squeezes his eyes shut a moment before he meets my gaze. The lines around his eyes deepen. “We’ll be okay.”

With my mental viewfinder, I see him through a mixed filter of my little-girl love and his middle-age.

“Elizabeth?”

I know he’s serious when he uses my given name.

“You know we’ll be okay, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” I force the corners of my mouth to rise. “We’ve always been okay.”

I love my dad, but I also know him. As contradictory as it sounds, he has the brains for degrees in both business and piano performance, but has the self-confidence of a shadow. He couldn’t sell water to a thirsty man. After fifteen years at the same company, how will he find another job?

If he had a wife, if I had a mom, she could help him carry the burden, even lessen the burden, aimed directly at me.

* * *

I thought it was hard to return from a month unplugged at camp to find Dad had put our early 1900’s brick two-story up for sale. It’s worse, another month later to watch the new family move in. Zoe thinks I’m a glutton for punishment, parked on the bottom step of her front porch across the street while a crew of movers unload the new neighbor’s furniture.

The new family looks perfect. The professionals leave in the super-sized truck and Mom and Dad work together with practiced communication to back a smaller moving truck into the drive. They tease, they get it done. There’s an intense knowledge of the other, an awareness of the other’s place in their little microcosm. A late model SUV parks in the street and a teenage girl appears from the passenger seat. The Dad swats Mom on the butt in passing. She laughs and pays him in kind.

“Hands to self, children.” The daughter comments with the inflection of an eye roll.

The driver of the SUV lifts the rear gate and calls to the girl. “Hey Brooke, come help me with these clothes.”

“Oh. My. God.” Zoe nearly chokes on her gum. “Is that Chase Dobson?”

Can’t Catch Me Chase Dobson, star running back of our high school’s state champion football team. Straight No Chaser, party every weekend. It’s All About the Chase, no girlfriend just an entourage wherever he and his teammates congregate.