Doorbells and Phone Calls

Welcome to The Spot Writers. This month’s prompt: Write a story where someone gets an unexpected phone call.

Along with several short story collections and books of poetry, Cathy has published two novels: WOLVES DON’T KNOCK, a psychological drama, and MISTER WOLFE, the darkly dark sequel/stand-alone novel. She has also written two volumes of grief poetry in memory of her son Matthew that she hopes might help other grieving parents: MY HEART IS BROKEN and BROKEN HEARTS CAN’T ALWAYS BE FIXED.

 

Cathy continues with Melvin and his family...

 

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Doorbells and Phone Calls

by Cathy MacKenzie

 

1 - The Doorbell

 

“Who’s that at the door?” Marie asked.

 “Dunno.” Melvin stood. “I’ll get it.” He ambled to the front door.

“Hel—lo,” he said, opening the door to a young woman.

“Hi. I—”

Melvin noticed her good looks. Only about twenty, if that. Maybe a teen still. Who could tell the ages of young people today? If he squinted, she almost resembled Kailani; she was that gorgeous. “Can I help you?” 

“Yeah. I—are you Melvin MacDonald?”

“I am. And you are?”

“I’m Katie. I might as well say it, eh? I’m your daughter. Katie, your daughter.”

“Ah, no. I don’t have a daughter. Well, I did have two once upon a time. Both drowned.”

The young girl frowned. “Drowned? How awful for you. Oh, and for me, too. I’ll never get to meet my sisters.”

“But I still have a son. You can meet him. William, your bro—what the heck am I saying? You’re not my daughter. My family’s here. Here with me. In this house. Not on the front step. Where have you come from? Why are you here?”

“My mother. She’s Rita Stevenson. Remember her?”

“Rita Stevenson? Can’t say I do.”

“You guys went to school together. You dated for a while. My mom told me so.”

“Rita?” He vaguely remembered a couple of girls he’d dated in high school, but he hadn’t gone “all the way” with any of them if that was her implication. Or had he? Hard to remember what he’d done eons ago, not once alcohol and weed were thrown into the mix.

“I don’t recall her. I think you’re mistaken. Or your mother—Rita—is.” He gripped the doorknob, ready to push it shut. Must get rid of her before Marie and William appeared.

“Who’s there, Melvin?”

“Yeah, Dad, who’s there?”

“I’m sorry,” Melvin said to the girl. “Gotta go. We’re in the middle of dinner.”

“But—I—I need to talk to you. Dad.”

“Dad?”

Melvin turned to see William.

“Dad?” William repeated. “Why’s this stranger calling you ‘Dad’?”

“Just mistaken identity,” Melvin said. “Come on. Back to dinner.”

The girl placed her foot on the threshold. A little too forcefully, Melvin thought.

“We need to talk.” She glared at Melvin and looked at William, examining him from head to toe, and smiled. “I’m your sister.”

William glanced at his father. When his mother appeared, William looked at her. “Who is this, Mom? She says she’s my sister.”

Marie looked first at Melvin. Then at her son. “No, you don’t have a sister, William. They both drowned, remember?”

“Melvin’s my father,” the girl said. “My mother told me so. So I’m here, to meet him. He’s neglected me all these years.”

“I didn’t neglect you. I didn’t know you even existed. You still don’t. My daughters are dead.”

“Well, I’m not. I’m here. In the flesh and blood.” Her blue eyes flashed.

“I don't know what's going on here.” Melvin flailed his arms. “Everyone calm down until I get to the bottom of this. Imposters appear every day, just like on the internet. Emailing you’ve won twenty million dollars if you’ll give me your bank information. Or help me come to your country and you can have ten percent of my inheritance, which amounts to zillions of dollars. Yes, there’s suckers born every day. But not me.”

“This isn’t about the internet,” the girl said.

“Maybe you should go to your room, William,” Melvin said, “until I figure this out.”

“No, Dad, I want to know what's going on.”

“William, stop it. Marie, the two of you go to the kitchen while I handle this.”

William and Marie remained rooted to the floor. Melvin focused on the individual on the doorstep who seemed primed to barge uninvited into the house. 

“Okay, what is this?” Melvin finally said. “Some kind of joke? Halloween’s long past, you know. Or are you early?”

“Dad—”

“Don’t call me Dad. You don’t have that right.”

“Yeah, he's not your father,” William piped up. “He’s mine. I’ve been with him all my life. You haven’t.”

“William, Marie. I thought I told you both to leave this to me.”

The girl gripped her handbag to her side. "I'm sorry. Like I said, I'm looking for my father. I believe you're him.” She eyed Melvin.

“Hey, don't know what games you're playing, but we're just a normal family living a normal life. I’m a hardworking guy. I don't have a lot of money if that's what you're—”

“I told you. I'm just looking for my father. I've been looking for you for five years now. Over five years, actually.”

“Well, I’m not him. Time to go now. And tell your mother she’s mistaken me for someone else.”

“Melvin, you have a kid and never told me?” Marie said.

“What about me, Mom? He didn't tell me either.”

“William, hush. I think we should let your father handle this.” Marie threw Melvin one of her evil eyes before dragging William away. “Can’t believe you cheated on me,” she mumbled.

“I heard that, Marie. And I haven’t cheated on anyone, so don’t talk fibs.”

Melvin turned to Katie. “Listen, you’re destroying us. See how upset my family is? You need to leave. Go back to Rhoda Stetson, or whatever her name is. Tell her she’s mistaken. I never had sex with her. Never had sex with anyone until my wife.” He hoped his face didn’t give him away. He’d had sex previous to Marie. With several women—girls—but he was quite certain he didn’t impregnate any of them. He used protection every time. His mother, God rest her soul, had harped about it enough that condoms were always forefront on his mind (and conveniently, thanks to her, in his pockets). “You need some proof if you think I’m your father. Proof! You get it? Proof! You just can’t come here and upset my kid and my wife. And me. I’m upset, too, in case you don’t know.”

“It’s Rita. Her name is Rita. Rita Stevenson. My mother. Mom said she was certain.”

“I ain’t taking no DNA tests, either. You better come up with another means of proof.”

Did he detect a tear forming in her eye? 

“You know, I almost hope you aren’t my father. You’re so mean. But Mom’s certain, and I believe her.”

“Again, you better get some proof. And until you have definitive proof, don’t bug me again.” He managed to close the door on her. Locked it behind him, too. Who knew what the fool girl might do. Rita/Rhoda? Who in the heck...

 

2 - The Phone Call

 

Melvin had never experienced such a week. Life hadn’t been the same since the ring of the doorbell when the Kailani look-alike appeared.

“I told you, Marie. She’s not my kid. And even if she was, it was years before we met. Had nothing to do with you. I never cheated on you. Never lied. Never knew I had a ‘supposed’ kid to even lie about.”

He thought he’d finally gotten through to her. And to William, too, but Marie wouldn’t give up on the silent treatment, and William wouldn’t quit with the nosey questions. 

Melvin hadn’t slept since that day. What if the girl was his daughter? What if she went to the police? Or to a lawyer. Would he be stuck with twenty-plus years of child support? Marie would never forgive him. Would this nightmare ever be over? 

Exactly eight days after that fateful doorbell (surprisingly, the girl hadn’t reappeared on the doorstep), the phone rang minutes after they’d sat down to pizza. Melvin had a premonition it was the girl, but no, it couldn't be; she didn't have their phone number. “Don’t answer it,” he said when William jumped up. “We’re eating dinner.”

“But Dad, we haven’t answered the phone for over a week. I know it’s Evan. We need to discuss homework. He said he was gonna call me tonight. We talked about it in school today.”

He couldn’t say no to his one surviving kid, could he? “Fine. Answer it.”

William scampered to the phone. “Really need to get a cell, Dad,” he muttered.

“Yeah, some year.”

Melvin watched William’s face as he answered and listened to the caller. Didn’t appear to be Evan.

“Dad,” he finally whispered, placing the phone on the counter. “It’s that girl. Pretty certain it’s her. My sister.”

“Cripes, she’s not your sister, William. Get that through your head.”

Melvin grudgingly set down his half-eaten slice of pizza and ambled to the phone. “Yeah, it’s me. Me. Melvin. Not your father. Me! Melvin!”

Silence.

“Yeah, really?”

Silence.

“Yeah, okay.”

More silence.

“Goodbye. And good luck to you.”

Marie eyed him as he sauntered back to the table. “What’s happened, Melvin?”

“All a misunderstanding. Marie, she’s not my daughter. William, she’s not your sister. The mother made a mistake. Thought it was me, but turns out it was Martin MacDonald. Martin! Not Melvin!”

“Martin MacDonald? Who’s he?” Marie asked.

“Haven’t a clue. Another classmate, I suppose. Just as I don’t remember that Rita, I don’t remember him. Turns out it was an honest mistake on the girl’s part. Or maybe it was the mother. I dunno, but how either one would make a mistake like that, I don’t know. Caused too much upheaval in my life, that’s for sure. I should sue them.” He sighed and picked up his half-eaten pizza slice.

“You must’ve had sex with her, or why would she say or think such a thing about you?”

“Marie, this is a conversation for later, after William goes to bed.”

“Dad, I know about sex, you know. You didn’t tell me about the bees and birds, but I learned anyhow.”

“You did?” Marie and William chimed in unison.

“I did. And how come neither of you saw fit to explain the bees and birds to me?”

Melvin let his slice of pizza plop onto the plate. “I truly don’t remember her. I truly don’t remember having sex with anyone in high school, either. Anyhow, it’s over and done with now. She’s moved on to the next sucker. And William, let that be a lesson. No sex before marriage. Saves a lot of hassles. Hopefully you’ve learned from this experience.”

William snickered. “Yeah, sure, Dad. Saves a lot of hassles.”

“William!” Marie scolded. “Watch your manners.”

“He doesn’t have manners, Marie. No manners in this household.” Melvin wondered if Katie had manners. What if she were his kid? Would he be happier? William might be. Marie, not so much. “Okay, let’s finish the pizza. Tomorrow’s another day.”

“Yeah, what’s gonna happen tomorrow, Dad?”

“Yeah, what’s gonna happen tomorrow, Melvin?”

 

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The Spot Writers—Our Members:

Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com

Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.com/