Chapter 7 Escalating Discouragement
Escalating Discouragement
As July drew near, Bec told Otis that she wanted to attend Sonoma State University and study business. She’d spent the night at the cabin, and they were both getting dressed for work. “I could get a better job,” she said, “make more money.”
Otis, who currently made less than her, tugged on his jeans, knowing exactly what this was about.
“You can’t keep carrying your family, Bec.
You’re not even twenty years old and paying their bills, giving them cash like .
.. like they’re children getting an allowance.
” When she didn’t reply, he kept going. “Doing the laundry, the shopping. Ushering Jed around.”
Rebecca pulled a dress over her head. “You’d do the same thing for your family—if you had to.”
Otis glanced at her before reaching for a flannel shirt in his closet. “Do you have to, though? Or are they taking advantage of you? I don’t see why they can’t pull their own weight. They’re all capable of working, including your dad.”
Annoyance clung to her words. “What do you want me to say, Otis? My dad prefers the welfare checks and pretending like he’s retired.
Jed’s collecting VA money, but it’s not enough.
He risks his life for this country, gives his legs, and they barely give him enough to get by. The least I can do is chip in.”
Otis shoved an arm into his shirt. “And your mom?”
Rebecca lifted her hands, palms up. “She’s looking for a job, but if I go back to school, then I won’t be able to help as much, which means she won’t have time to work.
Jed’s not capable of taking care of himself right now.
On top of the issues he already had, he’s having to figure out living without legs.
Can you imagine? I’m not going to abandon him right now. ”
Otis could hear the annoyance in his own voice escalate as he said, “It might be the best thing for him. All he’s doing is drinking and drugging away the money the VA’s giving him. Maybe your dad should kick him out again.”
Rebecca turned red. “Stop. Please quit pestering me about it and understand that I have to do what I have to do. With a college degree, I can help them and make more money for us. When we start our own winery, I’ll have money saved and the skills we need to run the numbers.
Lloyd said if I got my degree, he could help me find a good job with another winery—something I could do in the meantime to gain experience. ”
Otis stopped buttoning his shirt. “Lloyd? How ... when did you talk to Lloyd ?”
“He had lunch at the café.”
Of course he did, Otis thought, bile creeping up his esophagus. “I’d be careful with him, Rebecca.”
“Oh, c’mon. He’s harmless.”
“Yeah, well ... he has his eye on you.”
She approached the mirror in the bathroom and began to apply what little makeup she wore. “What does that matter?”
He followed her, buttoning his shirt with angry intensity. “So you’re admitting to it.”
She pointed at him in the mirror with her blush brush.
“Otis, what I’m saying is that it doesn’t matter how he feels about me.
Don’t insult my integrity because of your insecurities.
Matter of fact, why don’t you get off my back?
I was telling you that I wanted to go to college.
I’m excited about it ... and you stomp on it. ”
“I’m excited for you. What do you want me to say?
Your family wears me out sometimes.” Properly put in his place, Otis leaned against the wall and watched her for a while.
“I’m stressed out, Bec. I don’t mean to take it out on you.
I’m calling my parents later, finally tell them what’s going on, and it’s . .. really wearing on me. I’m sorry.”
Rebecca took a long time to respond. Finally, she turned to him. “I accept your apology. As far as your parents, think how nice it will feel when you finally get it over with.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Dad?” Otis wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d felt a warm trickle run down his leg. He’d dialed the number while sitting, but he sprang up from the couch once Addison answered.
“Hello, Otis, caught me at a good time. How’s summer school?”
Slow breaths, ol’ boy, he told himself. The lies had perpetuated, spiraling off one another, first the discussions about how spring classes had gone, then how he’d met a girl but nothing much had come of it, and then how he was going to stay in California for the summer to sneak in a few courses and get a jump on his sophomore year.
The mess that he’d made had reached its tipping point, and any peace that he’d found was moments away from tumbling down into the abyss.
“It’s . . .”
The lies had to stop.
“You might want to sit down, Dad.”
“What is it?”
Otis wished he wasn’t tied to the phone cord, as he needed room to move. Relenting, he sat back down, depositing his derriere just so on the edge of the raggedy couch. Out with it, you twit, he said to himself. Not one more minute of this charade.
The words wouldn’t come, though.
A seething fury transported itself from Addison to Otis through the line. The man knew something bad was coming.
Poke a balloon and it pops. That was what it felt like when Otis finally opened his mouth. “I’ve been lying to you. I don’t know why. Well, I do. I was afraid to fess up, afraid to disappoint you. I dropped out of school in February and moved up to Sonoma.”
A silence born of the Ice Age chilled the air.
“What is this, a joke?” His father’s taut British tone carried a terrifying bite.
Otis could only grin, knowing he was in the doghouse now. “No joke. I met a girl too. We’re going to get married later this year, once I turn eighteen.”
“I’m in no mood for this,” Addison said.
“I can’t imagine you are, but it’s all the truth now. I apologize for not telling you sooner.”
“Where are you exactly?”
“What do you mean?”
“What is your address? I’m coming down.”
Otis stiffened. What had he expected? That Addison would hop up and do the Watusi and say, Oh, you do say, sonny boy. How wonderful. Your mum and I will be delighted to pop down for the wedding.
No, there would be none of that.
His father pulled up to Otis’s cottage in a car he’d rented at the SFO airport. Though it might have been wise to have recruited a witness for this potential murder, Otis was glad Rebecca was dealing with her own family troubles tonight and wouldn’t be stopping by.
As usual, Addison Till was fashionably dressed in slacks and a button-down nearly as stiff as his upper lip.
His Rolex peeked out from his cuff enough to offer a sparkle.
While he worked at his desk, Addison obsessively raked his dark hair with a nervous hand, and after years of that, his hair seemed frozen in place.
His pale skin indicated that he was still working like a dog behind his desk, likely more so now that he was free of raising a child.
Rarely did the look of discontent leave his face, but today the cold eyes hiding behind his thick-framed glasses knocked Otis to his knees.
What Otis noticed most, even beyond the disappointment, was that for once Addison didn’t look like the hero Otis had always considered him to be.
Addison locked his fists on his waist and shook his head. “The whole time I was driving up here, I kept hoping this was all a dream ... or a nightmare.”
Filling the doorframe, Otis folded his arms. “I guess we’re skipping the hug today.” Coming face-to-face with his father only encouraged the defiance that had taken seed on the purple bus.
“Don’t be cheeky. This is serious business.”
Addison followed Otis into his small place and expressed his disgust with a groan. Otis pointed to a table in the corner, and they both took a seat, the chairs grinding against the old wood.
With one lone green apple, sour as a lemon, resting in the bowl between them and serving as the only mediary, Otis told his father exactly what had happened.
To his credit, Addison listened intently without interruption, though his clasped fingers indicated he was working hard to quell his volatile emotions.
As Otis wrapped up, he said, “I’m sure you’re frustrated with me, but I bet there was a day when you realized that you loved writing, that it was your calling.
In like manner, I’ve found my purpose, in both Rebecca and in this wine world, and I hope you’ll return with Mum in September for the wedding. ”
Addison let out a slow breath so long that Otis wondered if he had a third lung.
Clearing his throat, he pushed up from the table, chair legs again sliding on wood.
He approached the window and looked out toward the road.
Otis could only imagine the war in the man’s head, and he appreciated that Addison hadn’t flown off the handle.
That wasn’t his style anyway. He was a calculated man, equanimous even.
It was also clear, though, that this was one of the biggest battles he’d ever fought.
“I’ll reimburse you for school,” Otis said to his father’s back. “Every dime.” Addison’s cropped hair had a clean taper where it met the neck; no man visited the barber more.
Addison finally turned and shoved his hands into his pockets.
“I’m afraid for you, Otis. I know what it’s like to be young, to have dreams. Even more so these days, all the kids thinking they need to rebel, to fight the system.
To break away from the routine. It’s a fine thought, but put into practice, I fear you’ll discover reality wins in the end. ”
Otis waited for more.