Catch Me If I Fall

 Welcome to The Spot Writers. The prompt for this month is “fall or autumn.”

This week it’s Cathy MacKenzie’s turn. Her writings have been published in over 200 print and online publications. Her latest book is MOSES AND ME, “tails” of a dog and a senior—a seventy-year-old (Cathy)—who’s disliked dogs her entire life but suddenly had to have one. Available from her or on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1990589383

Check out www.writingwicket.wordpress.com for further information on Cathy’s works.

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**The author wrote a series of “creepy crazy” Christmas books for four consecutive years (2012-2015). She has been busy reformatting them into one book (hopefully in time for Christmas 2025), so the wacky Grimes family has been on her mind. This month, she wrote another for this prompt.**

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Catch Me If I Fall

by Cathy MacKenzie

 

“Bob, I was at SuperSave today, and I overheard a guy talking.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. He was saying how hot it is and how we need rain so badly.”

“We do, Elise. People’s wells are drying up. Good thing we’re in the city. Gonna be on the city to keep us water-logged. Glad we don’t have no well that’ll run dry.”

“And it’s so hot, Bob, for this time of year. Jeepers, today is October 2. And it’s sixteen—one of the coldest days we’ve had for months, but still lovely. The rest of the week will be around twenty, twenty-two. That’s unheard of for October. It’s almost Halloween. And Halloween is always dark, cold, and dreary.”

“It’s almost a month before Halloween, Elise. Why do you exaggerate so much?”

“I don’t know. It’s October today. Halloween is October. So, to me, they’re close.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“But it is hot, you must admit.”

“Gotta be global warming, Elise. Or is it global warning?”

“I think they’re about the same, Bob. Just like today and Halloween being close.”

Bob grunted. “So, whatcha gonna be this year, Elise?”

“What am I going to be?”

“Yeah, for Halloween. What you gonna be?”

“Why, Bob, I’ll just be myself. No dress-up for me.”

Elise was taken aback when her husband emitted one of his great guffaws. As if he’d told a funny. No, she guessed it was her who’d told the funny, though what was funny about it was beyond her. She was an adult. Adults didn’t dress up for Halloween—at least, she didn’t. Ergo, she’d be “herself.” 

Jimmy, on the other hand, what would he be? Their son was now sixteen. Did sixteen-year-olds still trick or treat? She figured Jimmy probably would. He revelled in that sort of stuff.

Hmm, she thought. Jimmy. Where in the heck was he?

“Have you seen Jimmy today, Bob?”

“Can’t say I have, Elise. Why?”

“No special reason. But we should know where our son is, shouldn’t we?”

“He’s seventeen, Elise. I think he’s old enough to take care of himself. And if he isn’t, then too bad.”

“Bob, he’s only sixteen. A year makes a difference, you know.”

Bob dropped the remote. “Really, Elise? I thought he was seventeen.” 

Elise scratched her head. “No, I believe he’s sixteen.”

“Well, you’re the mother. You’d think a mother would know how old her son is.”

Elise felt herself blushing at her husband’s smirk. As if she wasn’t smart enough to remember an age. Or was he funning again? “Pretty sure he’s sixteen, Bob. So do you know where he is?”

Bob glanced at her before picking up the remote. “I do not. That’s a mother’s job.”

“Yes, I suppose…”

“I’m sure he’ll turn up, Elise.”

Elise cocked her head. What was that? The front door? Jimmy?

And then he appeared. “Mom, Dad, here I am.”

“Nice to see you, Jimmy.”

“Yeah,” Bob chimed in. “Nice to see you, son.”

“Dad, you didn’t even look at me. How can it be nice to see me when your eyes are on the TV.”

“Oh, I have eyes in the back of my head, didn’t you know?”

“I did not know, Dad. And you still haven’t looked at me.” Jimmy glanced at his mother, who was glaring at his father, who was engrossed in the television, still not caring to look at his only child. Jimmy shrugged. “Never mind. I’m going to my room.”

“What are you going to do there, Jimmy?”

Jimmy sighed. “Nothing bad, Mommy. Just teen stuff, okay? I’m still a teenager, you know.”

“Jimmy,” Elise asked, “are you sixteen or seventeen? Your father and I were wondering.”

Elise couldn’t help but see her son’s eyes bug out.

Jimmy stood taller and said, “I’m seventeen! Both of you: I’m seventeen.”

“See, Elise, told you so.”

“Going to my room now.” Jimmy saluted. “See ya later.”

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Jimmy couldn’t believe it. His parents actually believed him when he said he was seventeen? Crap, he was only sixteen. What were they—well, his father—trying to do? Kick him out of the house a year earlier? Both of them kept harping that the door was gonna hit him in the butt when he was eighteen. He’d asked once if that door-butting would be on his actual birthday or if they’d give him a few days leeway. He never received an answer. Figured neither of them knew what they would do.

Cripes, why did he end up with such shitty, strange parents? He plopped to the bed.

It was October. Fall. Fall denoted back-to-school vibes, which he hated. But fall brought Halloween, which he loved. 

But his dratted parents…

 

I wish you’d catch me when I fall—wish you weren’t the one who caused me to fall—

You’re supposed to be the one to stand me up,

To stand by my side,

To take a stance with me,

But…

Life’s up and down,

Rise and fall,

Fall and rise,

Topple and die…

 

“Or turn eighteen and have the door slammed on me,” he mumbled. “And then fall.”

 

(To be continued…)

 

 

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The Spot Writers:

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

Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com

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

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