Read Online Shadow of the Past by Thacher Cleveland - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Thacher Cleveland
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Mr. Baker from getting behind him. I am not at all afraid of him latching onto my
neck with some sort of crazy parent death grip. “But I do have a spare helmet and I’ve never been in an
accident.
“Well, that’s all well and good,
but--”
“Daddy!” Christine said, bounding down
the stairs, and coming to a stop between the two. “What did I say
about cross-examining my dates?”
“Now Chrissy,” Mr. Baker started, but
Mark quickly interjected.
“It’s okay,” he said. Over time he’d
learned to do the opposite of what Joe would do, and Clara had told
him these were called ‘manners.’ “My friend Steve’s mom feels the
same way about the scooter, but I’ve always brought him back safe.
I can promise to do the same with your daughter.”
“Well . . . ,” Mr. Baker said, rubbing
his chin as if confused by these ‘manners’ and what they meant for
the viability of scooters.
“Daddy, please! It’s not really a big
deal, okay?” she said, taking a hold of his arm with both hands and
looking up at him with fluttering eyes.
With the heavy sigh of one performing
an act of unspeakable kindness, Mr. Baker nodded. “I suppose you’re
right, Chrissy. But don’t be too late. We still have some work to
do.”
“Best Daddy ever! Thank you!” she
darted up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the check. She slipped
away and pushed Mark towards the door.
As they headed down the walk, Christine
tossed her hair back and gave Mark a pained look, “God, they’re
such a pain in the ass. But you,” she grinned. “That was amazing.
And they say Jersey’s filled with bad boys.”
“Hey, fuhgedaboutit,” said Mark,
shrugging his shoulders and tossing his hands in the
air.
She tossed him his helmet and winked at
him. “Cute, tough guy. Let’s get out here so I can greet you
properly.”
She wanted to know where all the “cool
stuff” was so they drove around for a bit. Mark pointed out his
favorite places to eat, the good movie theater up on the Hill and
Ridgemont Park near his old middle school, hoping it could pass for
cool.
“I think this is it,” he finally said
over the metal wasp-buzz of the engine.
“This is fine,” she said, squeezing him
just enough to make him almost run them off the road. “Let’s stop
here.”
They pulled over near a secluded end of
Ridgemont, at one end of the big pond near the group of large
trees. They picked a seat under one that had a nice cushion of
leaves and a pair of big roots that forced them to squeeze close
together.
“So this place is nice,” she said,
nuzzling up next to him.
“The park? Yeah, I used to hang out
here all the time, pretending I was fighting ninjas or army guys or
whatever.” She chuckled. “Or something cooler. Smoking the drugs,
or something like that.”
“I meant the town. It’s kind of
charming.”
“Oh yeah, real charming. Designed for
smug yuppie assholes to feel better about themselves and built on a
geographical sliding scale so you can be sure where you fit in on
the economic food chain. And if you do live down with the rest of
the Morlocks, you better be a tough guy or you’re going to eat shit
for the rest of your life.”
“Well, speaking as one of those yuppie
assholes, not every guy from Morlock village has to be a tough
guy.”
He could feel his face flushing. It was
tough remembering the only difference between her and the people he
hated was the fact that she was here with him and apparently didn’t
hate him.
“I’m sorry. It’s just that I never
wanted live here, but my folks . . .” he stopped, realizing that he
was in forbidden territory. There was no way he was going to go
into all of that now, if ever.
“Yeah,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Folks never give you much choice in anything. You just get dragged
around like a rag doll. My brother is older and it was way harder
on him. If he hadn’t gone to college when he did I think he and Dad
would've come to blows by
neck with some sort of crazy parent death grip. “But I do have a spare helmet and I’ve never been in an
accident.
“Well, that’s all well and good,
but--”
“Daddy!” Christine said, bounding down
the stairs, and coming to a stop between the two. “What did I say
about cross-examining my dates?”
“Now Chrissy,” Mr. Baker started, but
Mark quickly interjected.
“It’s okay,” he said. Over time he’d
learned to do the opposite of what Joe would do, and Clara had told
him these were called ‘manners.’ “My friend Steve’s mom feels the
same way about the scooter, but I’ve always brought him back safe.
I can promise to do the same with your daughter.”
“Well . . . ,” Mr. Baker said, rubbing
his chin as if confused by these ‘manners’ and what they meant for
the viability of scooters.
“Daddy, please! It’s not really a big
deal, okay?” she said, taking a hold of his arm with both hands and
looking up at him with fluttering eyes.
With the heavy sigh of one performing
an act of unspeakable kindness, Mr. Baker nodded. “I suppose you’re
right, Chrissy. But don’t be too late. We still have some work to
do.”
“Best Daddy ever! Thank you!” she
darted up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the check. She slipped
away and pushed Mark towards the door.
As they headed down the walk, Christine
tossed her hair back and gave Mark a pained look, “God, they’re
such a pain in the ass. But you,” she grinned. “That was amazing.
And they say Jersey’s filled with bad boys.”
“Hey, fuhgedaboutit,” said Mark,
shrugging his shoulders and tossing his hands in the
air.
She tossed him his helmet and winked at
him. “Cute, tough guy. Let’s get out here so I can greet you
properly.”
She wanted to know where all the “cool
stuff” was so they drove around for a bit. Mark pointed out his
favorite places to eat, the good movie theater up on the Hill and
Ridgemont Park near his old middle school, hoping it could pass for
cool.
“I think this is it,” he finally said
over the metal wasp-buzz of the engine.
“This is fine,” she said, squeezing him
just enough to make him almost run them off the road. “Let’s stop
here.”
They pulled over near a secluded end of
Ridgemont, at one end of the big pond near the group of large
trees. They picked a seat under one that had a nice cushion of
leaves and a pair of big roots that forced them to squeeze close
together.
“So this place is nice,” she said,
nuzzling up next to him.
“The park? Yeah, I used to hang out
here all the time, pretending I was fighting ninjas or army guys or
whatever.” She chuckled. “Or something cooler. Smoking the drugs,
or something like that.”
“I meant the town. It’s kind of
charming.”
“Oh yeah, real charming. Designed for
smug yuppie assholes to feel better about themselves and built on a
geographical sliding scale so you can be sure where you fit in on
the economic food chain. And if you do live down with the rest of
the Morlocks, you better be a tough guy or you’re going to eat shit
for the rest of your life.”
“Well, speaking as one of those yuppie
assholes, not every guy from Morlock village has to be a tough
guy.”
He could feel his face flushing. It was
tough remembering the only difference between her and the people he
hated was the fact that she was here with him and apparently didn’t
hate him.
“I’m sorry. It’s just that I never
wanted live here, but my folks . . .” he stopped, realizing that he
was in forbidden territory. There was no way he was going to go
into all of that now, if ever.
“Yeah,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Folks never give you much choice in anything. You just get dragged
around like a rag doll. My brother is older and it was way harder
on him. If he hadn’t gone to college when he did I think he and Dad
would've come to blows by