Lose job. Find old room.

By Tiber

I’m a total coward. I still haven’t told my father that I’m back at home full-time, hiding out in my old room at night because I lost my job. I don’t know what I’d do if his house wasn’t so big. Of course, somebody else in this big house may have already told him I’m here.

Dad just ran into me, while I was haunting the entrance to the dining room. When you’re unemployed, you start fantasizing about dinner with a focus seldom seen outside of an assisted-living facility at 4.

Anyway, Dad said, as he passed by and disappeared into his study,

“Oh, good. I see you’ve dropped by for dinner again. Let’s shoot some pool afterwards.”

“Oh, no. What did he mean by that?!?”

You see how paranoid this is making me? It could just mean that he wants to shoot some pool after dinner. It could also mean,

“I found out you lost your job so I’m throwing you out onto the street and I wanted to get one last game of pool in before your fingers all freeze and fall off.”

He must know I’m here! Contrary to my belief as a teenager that a fork could out-debate him, he’s not stupid.

He knows! I know he knows!  I also discovered that when you’re trying to hide something but appear as if you’re just casually shooting pool, it’s better not to blurt out things like,

“Why?!? What have you heard?!? Who?!? Are you talking about me?!? What? Where? Here?!? Me?!? Seriously?!? Because I can’t believe-…Oh. Sorry…I meant, your shot.”

The game mercifully ended with me about to break the pool cue over my head when Dad poked his head back in the door and said,

“You should drop by more often, Tiber. It was good to see you.”

This is even worse than I thought. What did he mean by that?!?

I decided to tell him all. Dad, I lost my job and I’ve moved back home. It’s just that my shoelace was untied. I bent down and very carefully re-did it. Then I heard a noise in the hall but safety first! I bent down and, even more precisely, re-tied my shoelace all over again.

Then I marched right out into the hall. Unfortunately, though, by then, Dad had gone. Oh, well. I’ll tell him later…For sure.

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