The Imminent Menty B
Ranar
ChaoticConcertina: Today, my younger sister came over
to have lunch with our parents.
I need to apologize in advance —
this is far and away my most self-pitying vent.
Please don’t report my inability to take it on the chin
to the eldest sibling commission.
They’ll revoke my membership card
and my buy-in is nearly vested.
Anyway, Doctor Sister picks them up.
Since she doesn’t get a whole lot of time to herself anymore,
Mom made an appointment at the salon in town,
something she’s been putting off.
Doctor Sister had very simple instructions.
Go to lunch.
Stay with dad until mom is done.
ChaoticConcertina: Bring them home.
Isn’t that simple? Is it just me?
Am I being unreasonable in my expectations?
An adult woman with an advanced medical degree.
She should be able to follow the same sort of instructions I
would give my nine-year-old?
I’m sure you can guess how this played out, right?
Of course she gets a call five minutes after my mother leaves.
Of course she brings dad home and leaves him.
Texts mom so sorry, gotta run, she’s on her own to get home.
ChaoticConcertina: So obviously I am the one
who gets the call 40 minutes later
My father is on the other side of town arguing with a shop owner
Telling this guy he’s wrong,
that he wants to talk to the REAL owner
Who is a troll my dad grew up with.
He moved to Boca like 15 years ago.
I get it, she’s a doctor.
I’m local.
Obviously I’m the one who has to leave work to get him.
I don’t realize that my poor mom has been stranded
until after I’m already back at work.
At that point, I just closed up
because the whole day was shot at that point.
ChaoticConcertina: Everyone is upset,
I have to leave a message for his doctor that we had another incident,
and my sister is posting photos on social media
of their lunch like everything is fine.
The hardest part of being the eldest that no one tells you about
Is that eventually you wind up being everyone’s parent.
Which makes you an orphan.
And I’m just so fucking tired.
.
.
.
And I know that means nothing to an only child brat
My daughter will be here soon,
so at least I have that to look forward to.
You’re going to want to be careful with your Pink Princess
in that south-facing window.
I’d maybe rethink that.
She’s looking for something bright, sunny, and indirect.
If she needs a little pick me up every once in a while,
she can visit her southie friends.
I can’t wait to see how beautiful they all look
once you have them all together.
Like a flamingo threw up all over the room, probably.
It’s going to be glorious.
PinksPosies
I barely get to sleep.
Eh? How’s that? Need more distractions?
Have you ever wanted to learn the script
to the beloved 90‘s cult classic
Coming Gnome 3: The Grimening?
Because if so, it’s your lucky day
“Don’t worry about a thing.
She and I had a long talk a few months ago about what she would like — when you were here for your sister’s wedding consultation, remember? I have it all written down.
There’s no need for you to pick anything up, we’ll take care of all of everything.
And please accept my condolences, Torvah.
I’m so very sorry for your loss.”
Ranar swayed, sighing heavily as he hung up the phone.
This was the part of the job he disliked the most.
Weddings were stressful, but he thrived under pressure and some weeks, during the height of bridal season, he looked forward to the nonstop crush of bouquets and table arrangements and headpieces.
He would work all through the night for some weddings, ensuring every piece was perfect and ready for pick-up by morning, and then start the whole process over again for the next bride.
Funerals were a different story.
It was hard enough constantly being confronted with mortality, a creeping reminder that he would be tasked with making arrangements for his own parents sooner than later, sooner than he liked, a reality he kept pushing into the corner.
Hard enough to be reminded of life’s fleeting nature for strangers, but so few of the customers that came through his door were strangers at all.
He had lived in Cambric Creek his entire life, save for the few years he’d left for university.
He wasn’t offering rote condolences on the loss of some nameless, faceless outsider to his life.
These were neighbors, the parents of friends, people who had been coming in and out of his family’s shop since he was a naglet; trolls and goblins and orcs he’d known all his life.
This wasn’t a stranger’s funeral wreath he’d be creating that afternoon — he’d gone to elementary school with Torvah and her siblings, graduating with one of her younger brothers.
Her mother had come in regularly when his parents’ had still come into the shop each morning . . .
Ranar shook away his spiraling line of thought.
Just do your job.
Since the morning he’d run into Sumi outside the coffee shop, Ranar felt as if the whole world was pranking him, that one little nugget of good luck and fortuitous happenstance paying him back in black dividends.
The past week and a half since had been one long tension headache, manifesting in a lack of sleep and a sharp ache in his temple, but things were finally, finally looking up.
His cell phone buzzed at the edge of the counter and he sprung to snatch it up, a text notification he had been breathlessly anticipating all morning.
I’m so readyyyyyyyy!
Do I get to work in the shop?
Can I help customers?
Her exuberance was palpable, and his lungs clenched, heart aching.
She was almost home.
The last thing he had wanted to do as a child was help customers in the shop, but Ruma was champing at the bit.
Not that there were many customers who actually came in, but still.
If that’s what you want to do, you can be counter girl all summer.
Another buzz, almost immediately.
Yusss.
We’re gonna cook.
Ranar squinted.
Cook? Cook what? He would cook whatever she wanted, every day for as long as she was there.
Before he could agree, another message appeared on the screen.
We’re about to start boarding!
Her plane would be landing that afternoon, an airline employee escorting her from the gate all the way to the car that would be waiting at the curb to whisk her away to Cambric Creek, depositing her directly to his door; the details of the hand-off painstakingly spelled out in the custody agreement and arranged by her mother.
Text me before you take off, okay? And then as soon as you land.
And before you leave.
Actually, why don’t you just call me on video now, I’ll do the whole flight with you.
You can hang up when you’re pulling the driveway.
It was an exaggeration of what he would have preferred, but only just.
When the phone rang a second later, he answered it before the ringer melody had a chance to get out more than a few notes.
“Daddy, you’re giving helicopter.
We’re lining up now! I get to board first with the old people.”
Ranar laughed, his heart squeezing at the sound of his daughter’s voice.
“Good.
Hopefully they’ll seat you next to one of those old people.
They’ll sleep or read the whole time.
If anyone bothers you, tell them you’re venomous and that you’re being transported to a juvenile detention center, got it? And tell the flight attendant. Tell all the flight attendants.“ His smile stretched at the sound of her outraged laughter. Just a few more hours and she’ll be home. “I’m not kidding, text me when you land. Do you have any checked bags, or—“
“Nope.
Just my carry-on.
I figured you can buy me new stuff when I get there.”
He snorted.
Despite living full-time with his extremely serious ex-wife, their daughter had somehow inherited his sense of humor.
“Yeah, whatever.
Okay, that’s perfect.
They’ll take you straight to the car, right? Text me when you leave. It’s a straight shot on the highway from the airport, call if your driver gets off at an exit so I can hunt him down. Call mommy from the car, you know she’ll want to hear that you arrived safely. I’ll see you in a few hours, okay? Love you, Noodle.”
She was right, he was forced to agree, after hanging up the phone.
He was overprotective.
Ranar couldn’t help it.
It was nerve-racking knowing that she was getting on a plane alone, exacerbated by the distance between them, and he wouldn’t relax until she was safe and sound in his arms.
Allowing his ex-wife to move halfway across the unification with their daughter had been a decision he had agonized over, but as he had told Pinky when she’d asked, what was best for Ruma was the only thing that mattered.
PinksPosies I’m just going to close early.
Any orders we’ve been getting are coming in before noon anyway.
I’ll have them done this morning.
Go play your game, get dad out of the house.”
Now Ruma was on her way, the sun was shining, and he had a stack of orders in the printer tray to fill that morning.
It’s going to be a great summer.
Ranar nearly missed the sound of the bell above the door as the printer whirred to life once more.
It was the goblin who owned the dry cleaner at the end of the strip of stores, her over-the-top expression of sympathy making him straighten up.
“I told Boz I was coming right over here to get a vase for the counter to show our solidarity.
Honestly, it’s as if they think we don’t all talk.
What happens to one can happen to any of us! I am just livid .
.
. well, I’m singing to echoes, I know. I’ll take . . . this one.”
He had no idea what she was going on about, but before he could question her words, the door opened again, his driver loping in, swinging her bag off her shoulder and slipping behind the counter to ring out the troll before he could even react.
“Just remember, Ranar.
We’re all in this together!”
The troll was out the door and on her phone before he could even form a complete sentence.
“What in the stars was all that about?”
Mira shrugged.
The orc was his only employee and had worked for him for close to a decade by then, possessing all of the necessary characteristics of a good delivery driver — she was trustworthy, friendly, and insurable.
She did odd jobs around the shop, was able to ring out sales and added the greens to vases and baskets in preparation for orders, all the help he required.
“I don’t know, but I sure hope you have something for me to do today.”
Nearly two hours had passed before the bell chimed above the doorway again.
By then, Ranar had most of the day’s orders complete, Mira had swept the whole store, and he was itching to turn over the open sign.
Two satyresses crossed the threshold, whispering to each other as they did so.
Ranar watched as they looked around appraisingly.
“Good morning.
Anything I can help you with today?”
Both of the goat women were looking at him as if he had sprouted a second head, the one shaking her head as she tsked.
“We were just saying that you’ve been here forever.
I remember coming into this shop when I was just a girl, and I’m quite a bit older than you.”
Ranar squinted.
“Um, yeah, my grandfather opened this shop.
More than fifty years ago.
My parents ran it afterward.
Are-are you looking for something in particular?”
By the time the satyresses had left, a prickle had begun to move down his neck.
The women had continued clicking their tongues, mumbling to each other, grumbling about Jack Hemming and hypocrisy.
What the fuck is going on?
“Mira, did you hear about anything strange when you drove in today?”
The orc shrugged, shaking her head.
She lived in Greenbridge Glen, and it was unsurprising that she was not plugged into the nonstop gossip of Cambric Creek.
He had just been about to text Grace when his phone buzzed in his hand.
We just landed!
The old lady next to me snored the entire flight, but I got extra snacks.
Ranar grinned, his pulse kicking up a few notches in excitement.
She was almost here.
Extra snacks are always worth a little snoring.
Untying his apron, he undulated to the back, ensuring all the orders were accounted for.
Bet.
He squinted again.
Bet? Bet what? First we’re cooking, now we’re betting? He shook his head.
It didn’t matter at the moment, not when she’d be disembarking soon.
Let me know when you leave the airport, and don’t forget to call mommy.
Remember — one straight shot.
I’m going to be waiting in the street to embarrass you in front of the neighbors.
Her response was immediate.
DADDY NO
“Mira, I’m turning the computers off.
The orders we have are all it’s going to be for the afternoon.
Just let me finish these last two, and then you can load up for the day.
I’ll be gone before you get back.”
NOODLE YES
See you in a bit
It happened that first night Ruma was home.
An inauspicious start for what was meant to be a great summer, and he was furious she had tainted the time with his daughter.
His mother had ignored him entirely, spending the day in the kitchen, but she’d at least capitulated to their normal hybrid of Western foods and Tamil dishes, including gulab jamun for dessert which Ruma devoured.
“Food is how I show you I care,” she’d practically growled, whipping around with a wooden spoon and brandishing it like a weapon at Ranar’s approach, shortly after he and Ruma had arrived.
“I know, Amma.
And we appreciate it.
Everything smells delicious.” Tragedy avoided.
Misplaced accusations of raising a Westernized child – defeated for the day.
He still wasn’t sure how he and his ex-wife had managed it — he was an awkward extrovert, while Ruma’s mother had always been serious and stoic — and yet somehow they had produced an absolute ray of sunshine, bubbly and full of chatter as she always was, the entire meal.
“And school?” his mother had asked, trying to clear the high table around Ranar’s attempt to direct her back to coiling comfortably as he gathered the plates.
“You’re doing well? Lots of friends?”
“Of course she is.” His father beamed, giving Ruma a wink.
“Neja has always done well in school.”
It was the black cloud he’d been waiting for, a constant tension he carried every day, wondering if it would be a good day or a bad day, a bad day or a worse day, if bad days became the good days once they outnumbered the good, and on and on.
For the duration of dessert, his father referred to Ruma by the wrong name, making it clear as the conversation went on that he was referring to someone else entirely.
His bubbly little ray of sunshine looked stricken.
“Thatha, it’s me, Ruma.”
“Everything was delicious,” Ranar cut in smoothly, gently tugging the end of his daughter’s long braid.
He couldn’t deal with another agitated backslide without snapping.
“You didn’t need to go through all this trouble, mom, but I’m glad you did.
Five stars, my regards to the chef.”
“Yeah, it was so good, Paati.
Everything was bussin.”
Ranar nearly bit his tongue, watching his mother’s eyebrows drawn together as she undulated gracefully across the kitchen.
Her gaze moved quickly from Ruma to Ranar, eyes narrowing, twitching when she settled on her son.
She quickly looked around, and if there had been something appropriate in arm’s reach to hurl at his head, he was positive she would have done so.
Never mind.
Accusations of Westernization: full throttle, guilty as charged!
“It’s just so good to have you home.
I’m going to teach you how to make this, so you can make it for your little one someday.
But for now I’m going to make you a nice tea to help—“
“Actually, we have a date.” If his mother had her way, Ruma would never leave.
She would violate the custody order, refuse to answer the phone, and offer the arresting officers a comforting sambol as they broke down the door.
He held up a hand to stave off the argument forming on his mother’s lips.
“Don’t worry, Paati.
You have all summer to feed her, I promise. But I need to hog her for a little while.”
“But we need to go open the shop,” his father said seriously, using the table for leverage to push himself up from his coil slowly.
“I need to start the Gornish funeral.”
“We will, dad, tomorrow.
I don’t think Mr.
Gornish will mind.” Because he’s been dead for nearly ten years.
Once they were outside, he scooped up Ruma’s hand.
“I was going to suggest we get some fresh air and exercise, but I’m so full I think I would need to roll downtown at this point.
However, I learned something very important recently.
Kids apparently love coffee shops.”
“Oh, bet!”
He closed his eyes, nearly choking on his laughter.
“Let’s stop home and then we’ll drive over to the Black Sheep.
But we’re not getting doughnuts, so don’t even ask.
Sound good, baby girl?”
“Perfect.
I need to change anyway.
I wanna look super preppy for the town.”
Ranar watched as she serpentined before him, taking a series of selfies as she moved along.
He only understood every third word out of her mouth and he had a feeling she would be even more attached to her phone now than she’d been just a few months earlier, but this summer would end eventually.
Ranar understood his mother’s internal sentiment.
He wanted to put his arms around this moment and hold it tightly, keeping all four of them locked in place forever, sealing out the outside world.
First though, you need to call in for reinforcements.
ChaoticConcertina: MAYDAY, MAYDAY, THIS IS NOT A DRILL!
I know you’re online.
Sitting there thinking about painting your ceiling pink probably.
But I need your help! This is an emergency I hope you understand that. That’s what you approved.”
On the other side of the desk, Jack Hemming looked as if he were watching a tennis match, perhaps, or maybe just a slow moving train wreck, his eyes flickering back and forth between Ranar and his son.
Owen spread his hands.
“So stop paying into that system.
Leverage the rest of your business to do the heavy lifting.
You do a really healthy wedding business; I know for a fact that you do.
Stop paying that extra $1.70 for a vase. I understand you’re upset, Ranar. I do. But put yourself in my position. I have a fiduciary responsibility to the taxpayers in this community.
We approve businesses based on their potential to create revenue, because those tax dollars go straight back into the schools. If you were given the choice of the two businesses and told you could only pick one, what would you—“
“I would pick them,” he responded woodenly.
He couldn’t blame the planning commission for making the choice that they had, his anger sliding away as the hopelessness of the situation enveloped him fully.
They were right.
His business was failing, the whole industry circling the drain, the corporatization that had begun several decades earlier finally achieving its aim.
And you’re just as culpable for rolling over and lining their pockets all these years. “I would pick them too.”
“Have you considered selling the building, Ranar?” Jack’s voice was low and steady, and not without compassion.
“You’ll receive double the market value, I can assure you.
You’re in a prime location with good parking.
It’ll go to a bidding war if you decide that’s the route you want to take.
I’ll make sure of it.”
He felt as if he were drowning, clawing at the surface of a spinning whirlpool that was sucking him down.
He thought about selling the building every single week and had done so for the last five years.
Jack Hemming wasn’t wrong.
He would be able to assure all of the business’s creditors were paid back, see that his parents were set up comfortably for the duration of their retirement, pay off his house and still have a respectable nest egg for himself.
And then what? You’re forty-two years old.
You’ve never done anything but this.
He had a degree in electrical engineering, one he’d never once put to use.
That had been another expectation of him, the first baby born here, the good son.
Get a good education in a respectable field, something his parents could write home about to relatives he barely knew. You’ll probably need to go back to school, learn all of the new technology that didn’t exist twenty-five years ago.
He could sell the building, and what would his parents do? What would his father do every day if he didn’t have this routine, other than slip into this clawing oblivion even faster? No.
No, he couldn’t do that until he had no other choice.
As he told Pinky, this wasn’t like selling a used car.
There was more to it, and it didn’t matter if outsiders couldn’t understand.
“She’s going to put me out of business,” he repeated.
“So when that happens, I’ll expect you to make good on that promise, Jack.
I think that’s the very least you can do for my father.”
His muscles didn’t want to cooperate as he uncoiled, shifting to the door in a herky-jerky concertina.
“I hope it doesn’t come to that, Ranar.
I know you think I’m wrong, but I really don’t think you’re going to have to shut down your business entirely.
Maybe the brick-and-mortar end of it, because I appreciate that the property taxes are significant.” Owen glanced back to his father.
“But he’s right, you’ll make a pretty penny on that land.”
His hand was clammy as he shook the younger man’s hand, and then his father’s.
She was going to put him out of business, and he would have to figure out what to do next.
“You’ll need to diversify the business, but based on the numbers I looked at, I think you can survive, Ranar.
There’s room for you and Sumi both.
I’m sure of it.”