C.O.T.V.H. (Book 1): Creation (3 page)

“
Awe man, come on!” He yanked again to no avail. “Does nothing work in this dump?"

Taking a deep breath, he pulled for all he was worth, but the window wouldn’t budge another inch. He struggled for a few more seconds before finally giving up. “You win this round.” He said, giving it an angry glance. Though even that tiny movement of fresh air did make him feel slightly cooler.
Well . . . it's better than nothing.

Jake dropped on to his bed and using the front of his black t-shirt wiped the sweat off his forehead, leaving a very large wet spot on the front of it. Grabbing a Superman comic off the nightstand, he began rigorously fanning himself. The voices coming from the living room were now yelling, the argument in full swing.

There was no shutting them out when they were like this, so Jake picked up the taped up headphones to his Sony Walkman and put on his newest Motley Crüe tape. A couple of hours, a change of batteries, and several tapes later a loud knock came at his door.

Julia opened it a crack and peeked through with a bright smile on her face. Her kind green eyes had only the tinniest bit of puffiness to show she had been crying. She was dressed in her dark blue work scrubs, its pockets stuffed full with pens. Her long brown hair was tied back in a ponytail. In her right hand, she held an ice-cold glass of lemonade. She looked at Jake, her eyes instantly lighting up. “Hey, Jakey,” she said, leaning against the door. “Can I come in?”

“
Hey, Mom,” Jake replied, pulling the headphones down around his neck. “Yeah you can come in; I was just listening to some music.”

“
How are you, baby?” she asked, handing him the ice cold glass, before plopping down on the bed next to him with an exaggerated, “Humph!”

Jake took a long drink, the lemonade so cold he could feel it as it poured down his throat and into his stomach. He set the glass down on his nightstand then chomped noisily on a piece of ice. “I’m okay," again he wiped his brow with the front of his shirt. "Just hot. Really hot. But the lemonade definitely helped. Thanks, Mom," he smiled.

“
You’re welcome,” She smiled back, laying her head on his shoulder. “Hopefully we’ll get the AC fixed in the next few days and things will be a little more bearable.”

“
Yeah,” he said, staring up at the cracked popcorn ceiling above. He knew she meant well but they both knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

“
Well . . .” she said slowly. “Time to go to work, and of course I’ve got the graveyard shift for another two weeks.”

"Well that's great," Jake said sarcastically. "What time will you be home?”

“
Sometime after seven. But I’ll make you a deal, be good for your dad and I'll bring you back some breakfast burritos from JumBurrito. Kay?”

Jake smiled at her. “You know me too well.”

“
Course I do. I’m your old Ma! Well, maybe not old . . .” They both laughed as she hugged him tight then kissed the top of his forehead.

She was almost out the door when Jake stopped her. “Mom? Before you go . . . can I ask you something?”

“
You can ask me anything, baby. What's up?”

Jake let out a nervous sigh. “Why do you and Dad have to fight all the time?”

Julia frowned, pushing a stray piece of hair back behind her ear. “How much did you hear?”

“
Pretty much everything,” Jake shifted uncomfortably.

Julia sat down on the end of the bed, her eyes scanning around the room as if searching for just the right words. A deep, uncomfortable quiet hung over them. Outside a car with its stereo’s bass booming went down the street, their next-door neighbor's dog barked loudly. Julia licked her dry lips before speaking. “Jake, baby, you know I love your dad. Don’t you?”

“
Yeah I know,” Jake nodded. "But why can’t you two just get along?” he asked, frustration filling his voice. “Why can’t things just be like they used to be?”

Julia sighed, her eyes filled with sadness. “I know, Jakey. Believe me, I wish the same thing too. But things are very hard right now and grownups don’t always get along. That’s just the way it is.”

“
I know, Mom, but Dad’s doing the best he can! It’s not his fault all this happened. Why do you have to be so hard on him?”

She sighed again, pulling at the matching dark blue scrunchie holding her ponytail. “I’m just frustrated. Your dad is frustrated, plus this miserable heat . . . sometimes it’s all too much for us. You hold it in as long as you can but sometimes it just boils over and you explode. Today was just one of those days.”

Jake knew she loved his dad. He never doubted that, but the anger that came out in her scared him. He had a feeling that sometimes it scared her too. “I know you have to go, Mom, but can I ask you one more thing?”

She ruffled his messy brown hair with her fingers. “You can ask me anything? I’ll always make time for you.”

“
Okay,” he said, though he knew she wouldn’t want to answer this one. Anytime he ever asked about his grandfather, her father, she would shut down completely, always making excuses to change the subject. Jake had a feeling he hadn’t exactly qualified for father of the year. “Mom . . ." he started slowly. "Why does Dad hate Grandpa so much? If he can help us, why not let him?”

The smile she had instantly disappeared. She cleared her throat nervously, “I really wish you hadn’t heard all that. You really need to stop listening in on our conversations.”

“
I’m sorry, Mom, but it’s not exactly hard! These walls are paper thin, and you two weren’t being very quiet either.”

For a brief second she looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “Yeah, I guess we weren’t, were we? But some things are better left between grownups. Understand?”

“
I guess so,” Jake said, fiddling with the black tape holding together his headphones. “But you said I could ask you anything.”

“
Fair enough,” she nodded, but still didn’t make eye contact. “Jake, your grandpa isn’t a very nice man. Even when I was a little girl, I had a hard time getting along with him. Especially after my mother and brothers . . . well, I won’t get into that right now. But the fact is he’s never made any effort to get along with anyone, especially your dad. He hated John the minute he laid eyes on him and from that moment on he made things very hard for both of us.”

“
But Dad said he would try to take me away. Why would he do that if he’s never even met me?” Jake asked, genuinely perplexed. “He can’t be that bad.”

Julia looked down at her watch. “Damn, I’m going to be late. Look, we’ll talk about this tomorrow. Okay? I promise.”

Jake knew she was just avoiding the subject, but he didn’t want her to get into trouble at work, so he nodded that he understood.

“
You’re a smart boy, Jake," she smiled. "Sometimes I honestly forget that you’re only ten."

Jake managed to fake a smile for her, which she instantly saw through. She placed a hand on his shoulder then said, "Jakey, honey, listen . . . I want you to know, that whatever happens, I love you more than anything in the entire world. More than life itself. Don’t ever forget that,” She placed another kiss on his forehead. “Behave for your dad and don’t stay up all night watching TV. I’ll see you first thing in the morning,” She blew him a kiss as she rushed out the door.

“
Love you too, Mom!” He yelled after her. He heard his dad’s voice in the hallway and though she just told him to stop eavesdropping, he couldn’t help himself. He tiptoed over to the door and again peeked around the corner.

John had her enveloped in a giant bear hug. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. "I hate fighting with you."

“
Me too, babe,” she replied into his chest. She lifted up on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on his cheek. John playfully lifted her off the ground, until her feet swung in open air. She laughed and swatted at him with her hands. “Let me down you big ox! I’ve got to go to work!”

John dropped her back to her feet and lovingly kissed her on the lips. “Love you, baby. I'll see you when you get home.”

“
Love you too!” she said, opening the front door. “Don’t let Jake stay up all night. And Jake! Stop eavesdropping!”

Jake ducked back into his room, feeling genuinely happy for the first time since Sergeant Awesome’s victory over the alien menace. For a brief moment, he barely even noticed the sweat clinging to him.

Walking over to the window he waved as Julia started the engine on her little blue Nissan. The drive belt squealed loudly. She backed out of the drive, waved back then pulled down the street out of sight.

"Hey, buddy,” John’s voice, sounded behind him, causing Jake to jump.

Though he stood right at six feet six inches tall and weighed in at three hundred twenty pounds, almost all of it muscle, he could move swift as a cat when he wanted to.  He had short, dark brown hair, with a trimmed beard and mustache, his eyes were a deep dark brown.

"Hey, uh, Dad," Jake said, realizing he was about to be in big trouble.

"Jacob Michael Griffin,” John’s eyes narrowed in on the open window.

Oh crap, here it comes,
Jake thought. "Yeah, Dad?"

"What is the rule about open windows in this house?"  John crossed his arms over his chest, giving Jake his most terrifyingly serious stare.

"Uh," Jake stammered, nervously. His dad had never laid a hand on him, but the very sight of such a massive man looming above was more than enough to put the fear of God into him.

Keeping his voice low John said, “You never, ever leave a window or door open or unlocked in this house. Especially after the sun sets."

"I know, Dad.  It's just, it got really hot and my fan isn't working . . . and besides the sun hasn’t set yet . . .” he trailed off. This clearly wasn't the time for excuses, so he quickly closed his mouth. "I'm sorry, Dad, it won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't,” John walked past him and easily shut the window with one hand. "Now get washed up.  Dinner is on the table."

“
Yes, sir,” Jake said, stepping past him.
Whew! Dodged that bullet!

Stepping into the bathroom Jake washed his hands then splashed some cold water over his face and neck. The coolness felt amazing against his skin, though it only lasted a few brief seconds. Toweling off he walked into the kitchen. John was already seated at the ugly green card table that now served as their kitchen table. Memories of the giant dining room they had countless family dinners on flashed through his mind. He couldn't help but lick his lips at the memory of plates heaped with fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, with freshly baked biscuits. Disappointment filled his face when he saw the less than succulent meal waiting for him.  With a heavy sigh, he sat down across from his dad and pulled the plastic cover off his microwave TV dinner.

"Yeah, I know,” John nodded as if he'd just read Jake's thoughts. "I miss it too, but the oven went out yesterday evening so this will have to do until I can get it fixed."

Great.
Jake thought to himself.
At least there’s not much left in his dump to break!
For the rest of the meal they ate in complete silence, both with beads of sweat streaming down their faces and wet rings around their shirt collars.

Jake started to ask his dad something about when the oven might get fixed when the doorbell interrupted him. John turned and looked out the window over the sink. The last rays of the sun streamed through. Turning back, he motioned with his head to the door. “Would you get that, Jake?”

“
Uh . . . sure,” Jake dropped his fork to his plate then rose to his feet. Once at the front door he turned the four deadbolts and pulled back the two chains. With a grunt, he opened the heavy oak door to find a short, gangly looking man in his mid forties. He had jet-black hair hanging down over his ears and was dressed in a cheap gray sports jacket with a Hawaiian theme tie, a pair of Wrangler jeans, and a scuffed pair of black cowboy boots. In his right hand he held a six-pack of some cheap, off brand beer Jake had never heard of. Three bottles were missing. It was one John's old work buddies, Marty White.

“
Hey, Jack,” Marty said, smiling a mouthful of yellow teeth with an unlit cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. “Is your old man in?”

“
Hey, Mr. White,” Jake said, not even bothering to correct the mispronunciation of his name. “Dad’s in the kitchen.”

“
Cool,” Marty said, stepping past him. A whiff of stale cigarette smoke and cheap beer assaulted Jake's nose.

“
Hey, hey, hey!” Marty yelled out, holding the half-empty six-pack over his head as if he’d just won the World Cup. He set the beer on the table then slapped John hard on the shoulder. “What’s up, Big John?”

“
Hey, Marty,” John said, pushing out one of the black metal chairs with his foot. “How’d the interview go?”

“
Ah shit you know,” Marty dropped into his seat then lit his cigarette with a cheap plastic lighter. “Bunch of commie, liberal bastards. They don’t want a real man! They want some pencil pushing bitch that will follow orders. By God, John, I tell you, this country is headed to hell in a hand basket. No one gives a shit about the working man anymore,” he took a drag from his cigarette then leaned back in his chair. "Don't they realize it was men like you and me that built this country? All we needed was a few rounds of ammunition and some good ole rock and roll! Now the whole thing is built on nothing but shitty rap music and nerds on computers.”