Chapter 2: The Call Home

“Derek, hurry home! The town road construction plans are already posted!”

Early in the morning, my mom called me. Her voice buzzed over the line, that hint of panic that always crept in when something rattled her usual calm. I could practically hear her pacing in the kitchen, phone pressed to her ear, mug of coffee cooling on the counter.

“The town manager moves fast—already got the plans out.”

“I don’t know anything about road building, and I can’t help anyway. You really need me to drive all the way out there for a road meeting?”

I put her on speaker while brushing my teeth, rolling my eyes a little. Old folks are like this—always making a big deal out of the smallest things. I watched myself in the mirror, foam gathering at the corners of my mouth, thinking how for her, town news was still the center of the world.

The town’s building a road, and I have to go back for it? If I don’t show up, is the road not going to get built?

“No, Derek, the road the town is building isn’t going to our house.”

Mom explained again, her voice tighter now.

“It’s not going to our house? What do you mean?”

I was confused, not sure what she meant.

“Your dad looked at the plans. The new road doesn’t reach our house. He even went to argue with the town manager about it. You should come back and see for yourself.”

“What?” My hand holding the toothbrush froze.

“Mom, don’t worry. I’ll come back right away. Keep an eye on Dad—don’t let him go out.”

I quickly rinsed my mouth, grabbed a towel to wipe my face, threw on some clothes, and rushed out the door.

I floored the gas all the way home. The drive out of the city always felt like a time warp—billboards for fireworks and all-you-can-eat buffets gave way to rusted tractors and the sweet stink of manure, then into the patchwork woods and open sky of Maple Heights. As soon as I hit town, the road conditions turned terrible—full of potholes and bumps. If I weren’t driving an SUV, I wouldn’t have made it in at all.

My parents’ house is at the very end of the street, the last one on the block. The whole drive shook me so much I nearly threw up, but I finally made it home.

When I pulled into the driveway, Mom was already waiting at the porch, grabbing my hand and whispering, “Derek, you’re finally back! Go talk to your dad, he’s still fuming.”

The scent of bacon lingered from breakfast, but all I could focus on was the stormy look on Dad’s face. She hovered by the stove, twisting her wedding ring, the way she did when I was a kid and Dad was late for dinner.

Inside, Dad sat with a stern face, smoking, clearly in a foul mood.

“Hey, Dad. Brought you some smokes—figured you’d need ‘em today.”

I set down two cartons of Marlboros I’d brought from the car in front of him.

“That jerk Mike Sanders—the town’s building a road and deliberately left us out! I went to reason with him, and he even glared at me, saying we have to go along with the town’s arrangements. Go along with his damn foot!”

Dad flicked his cigarette butt away, cursing. The town manager’s name is Mike Sanders.

“Dad, at a time like this you should make some good coffee, light up a nice cigarette, turn on the TV and watch some cartoons, have Mom cook a couple of dishes, open a bottle of orange juice at noon, and just enjoy yourself.”

I massaged Dad’s shoulders, grinning.

“You brat, you came back just to mess with your old man?”

Dad glared, scolding, but then couldn’t help laughing.

“Dad, it’s just a road. No need to get so worked up over something so trivial.”

“You relax at home. I’ll go to the town council and see what’s going on. If someone’s bullying us, just watch me handle them.”

I patted my chest.

“You handle them? Thirty years ago, if Mike Sanders dared to shout at me, I’d have knocked him into next week.”

Dad lit another cigarette, speaking with disdain.

“Yeah, back then you fought your way from one end of Maple Heights to the other—never met your match.”

“If you were twenty years younger, Mike Sanders would be walking around with a black eye right now.”

I quickly chimed in.

“You little punk, what kind of nonsense are you learning every day? Can’t you be serious? Get lost, you’re making me mad just being here.”

Dad paused, grabbed the cigarette box and tossed it at me.

“Alright!”

I gave a mock salute and headed for the town council.

At least I managed to cheer the old man up.

I pulled the front door closed behind me, the screen slapping against the frame. For a second, I stood under the eaves, feeling the early sun on my neck and the stubborn pride of my family settle in my chest.