Page 91 of Toxic Wishes
“We put it in the garage.” Her mom turns to face Abigial.
“Why?” Abigail Grimaces blinking several times as she waits for a response.
“I ordered an easel I’m using that room to paint again. I showed you my paintings from years ago, haven’t I? I was a dam good artist. So I’m getting back into it..”
“But why couldn’t you use Adalee’s room? She’s moved out for good.”
“I have another project going on in that room. Since your dad wants to leave all his money to whores I need to get busy and back into painting. Doing something I like for once. We are planning on divorcing, didn’t I tell you?”
“No, you never call me mom. And you guys have been saying that for years. So I doubt anything has changed in the two weeks I’ve been gone.”
“You aren’t ever going to divorce me.” I hear a man’s voice from the other room.
“Watch me!” Her mother shouts over her shoulder again. Then she starts walking down the hallway, turning the corner into what I assume is the living room.
She says something inaudible to her dad, and then I hear the dad say. “I’m not chaining you here, am I?”
“Just watch your fucking football.” Abigail’s mom says.
Feeling odd standing here by the bathroom in the hallway, I follow Abigail into the living room. Their house is lovely. There are many windows, tiny details, tall ceilings, and a bookshelf by the entertainment center—lots of hanging ceiling lights that looked pretty expensive.
“Mom, where am I supposed to sleep?”
“I don’t know. Don’t you have a blow-up bed that you brought from California?”
Is her mom serious right now? Wow. In the first ten minutes I’ve known her, I can tell her mom lacks empathy and sympathy. Aren’t those characteristics of a psychopath? No, maybe it’s a narcissist. Right now, I’m hoping this lady and I aren’t the same zodiac sign.
Her father sits on the couch watching football as he sips a beer.
What do you know, her dad is an NFL fan.
I walk over to him and casually intercept his bubble. I look at the screen and see the Raiders are playing the Los Angeles Rams. He recorded this in January since it’s not football season until September. And by the looks of him, I guess he’s rooting for the Las Vegas team.
“Raiders fan, huh?”
He briefly looks up and then back at the screen. “Ya, but they are sucking at this game. I’m not sure what the problem is with Tommy Tiller. He did great in the first half of the season. No one could get past him as a defense player. But he was just a different person in the last part of the season. It’s like his head wasn’t in the game at all. He missed so many opportunities causing the team to fail. I mean he could have saved the game so many times, given it starts with the defense.”
“Ya, poor Tom, he had a minor surgery on his shoulder.”
“Ya, I heard about that, but that shouldn’t have affected how he plays. Not this bad, anyway,” her dad says.
“And his wife cheated on him… he did his damndest to hide it since he didn’t want that going public,” I tell him.
Her dad slowly looks up at me as if I’m crazy.
“They worked it out somehow, but I still think it messes with his head when he’s away playing, especially if she’s not there with him.”
“Do you know him or something, or did you read that in the weekly gossip digest?” He laughs to himself as he takes a sip of beer.
“Ya, we used to play together until I got signed onto the Arizona Cardinals.”
His head swings back in my direction. He narrows his eyes on me. Many people don’t recognize me when I don’t have my jersey on or a clean-shaven face.
“Colt Killian, sir,” I stretch my arm our for him to shake my hand. A formal introduction like normal, welcoming people.
I watch his eyes go wide as our recognition sets in. “I’ll be damned. It is you. You're the Quarterback for the Cardinals. What an honor.” He shakes my hand with force.
“Yup, that’s me,” breaking free from his hand, I slip my hands into my pockets, bouncing on my heels once.