Nice as you please comes the traveling man

When I last visited my grandmother, she implored me to call my father more often. Months ago, she had sent me a detailed letter saying as much. Funny thing is, I talk to my father pretty often. I don't call him every day, but usually I talk to him once every week and a half. Is that too long a span? I don't think so, but what do I know. So, anyway, my grandmother implored me to call my father more. I tried reassuring her that I talk to him frequently, that I don't do it out of a sense of duty, but more because I genuinely get along with him. "You know", she said, "when I talk to him and ask about you, he always says 'I'm not sure what Kevin's up to; I never talk to him'."

"I talk to him all the time, Nana", I said as gently as I could muster. "In fact, I just spoke with him last night." Now, for a ninety year old woman, Nana is still sharp and, current ailment notwithstanding, active, but her hearing has long since jumped ship. Consequently, having a conversation with her requires some effort.

"Your father is alone a lot, you know. I worry about him."

"Well, he values his alone time. I wouldn't worry too much about him. Sometimes when I call him, I can tell he doesn't want to talk."

"He doesn't want to talk to you?".

"Most of the time he does, but you know, sometimes---and I can relate to this, believe me---I think he'd rather be alone."

"Why do you think he doesn't want to talk to you?"

I had hoped to avoid this type of thing. Nothing good was going to come out of this conversation. All I could do was try to put a quick end to it. So, I got real close to her and spoke slowly. "I get along with him fine, Nana, and I do think he wants to talk to me."

"You should really call him more often, even if you think he doesn't want to talk to you."

"Ah, forget it."

Tonight I called my mother. I just wanted to see how she was doing because it had been a while since I last spoke with her. Every time I call over there, I usually speak with my father; my mother's usually in bed or at work. Well, after a few minutes of talk, she said she had to go because they were about to eat dinner. I could barely get a goodbye in before she hung up. Now, I understand why she wanted to get off the phone; between work and helping out my grandmother, she's been going on all cylinders. My dad's given me this type of brush off before. I was half tempted to call up my grandmother and tell her to talk to my parents on my behalf. "Tell 'em they should call their son more and when, because he has a pure heart, he calls them, not to shoo him away like a horse fly." That'll show 'em!
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Today was a good day, to quote Ice Cube. Except for Bill puking all over the floor and in an empty box in the warehouse, that is. He is such a mess, but I love the guy. He took his pain meds on an empty stomach and evidently his body took issue with the action. Good that I didn't see him puke---that honor was bestowed upon Ryan---but I did have to suffer the lingering sour odor every time I went out back.

After Bill's moment of weakness, I went on a couple of small deliveries with Gio. The second one was at The Residents Inn hotel in Cambridge and we got a free breakfast out of the deal. We had some oj, eggs, french toast, and sausages. While we ate, Gio told me about how a few years ago, his friends father offered him ten grand to be a bodyguard for a guy who snitched on Whitey Bulger. He didn't know who Whitey Bulger was at the time, but he still refused, not wanting to get himself killed protecting someone he hardly knew. When he finally found out who Whitey Bulger was, he patted himself on the back for making at least one sound choice in his life.

Later, I found myself working in close proximity to Bill out back. Whenever this happens, I like to amuse myself at his expense. What I do is quietly sing to myself for a few minutes. I'll start out singing popular songs like "Bridge Over Troubled Water" or "Let it Be" and then I start making up songs, just to see if Bill's paying attention. This is how it went today:

We're gonna take her out back tonight

We're gonna take her out back and do her right

We're gonna do her and fuck her and do her and fuck her and do her and......

I looped the last line over and over until Bill finally looked over and said, "What the hell are you singing?"

"It's song by Green Day. Ever heard of them?"

"I think I have, but I've never heard that song."

"Yeah, they play it on MTV a lot", I said. Bill's so out of touch that it didn't seem odd to him that MTV would allow a song like that to be broadcast. He went back to work and I started with a new song.

I like the young ones to get down on their knees

Give me something young, I need a premey to squeeze

A baby, a premey, so tasty, so creamy.....

"Now what are you singing?", Bill asked.

"Oh", I said casually, "I think it's by the Eagles".

"They sing about that shit?"

"Yeah, it's messed up but I like it because it's catchy."

Bill shook his head and returned to work. God help me, but that's how I amuse myself.