Something Missing_ A Novel - Matthew Dicks [39]
As for the eggs, there was nothing Martin could do except move three of them forward to the front row of the egg drawer, hoping that their loss would go unnoticed. Despite the missing food items, Martin felt that his chances were good that his visit would remain undiscovered.
He was exiting the house, wishing he hadn’t parked in the driveway, when the need to urinate reminded him that his toilet at home was still clogged and in desperate need of Liquid Plumbr. This was a product that his parents always kept on hand (his mother had always been a practitioner of the lots-of-toilet-paper single-flush method), and Martin felt with certainty that he could remove a bottle without it ever being missed. He raced to the upstairs linen closet, found two bottles in their accustomed spot on the closet floor, and took the one already open. This, unlike the butter, was a product whose disappearance could easily be attributed to another person in the house, as its use was probably not advertised.
With Liquid Plumbr now in hand, Martin had made it halfway down the brick walkway to the driveway when the lights of his parents’ Oldsmobile blinded him. Not expecting another car in the driveway, his stepfather skidded to a halt just inches from the Malibu’s rear bumper. He was out of the car in seconds, shouting at Martin as he closed the gap between them.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing parking in the middle of the drive like that? Jesus Christ, I almost hit you! This driveway’s got plenty of room for two cars if you don’t park dead center … and hello? What the hell is that in your hand? Huh?”
Martin stared up at the man, just over six feet tall with the hint of a middle-aged gut beginning to show, and quickly sought out an excuse, a lie, to extract himself from this situation. But knowing that there was little he could say other than the truth, and feeling completely defeated over his current financial situation, he mumbled, “My toilet’s blocked and I couldn’t afford any groceries this week. I needed a little help.”
“Help? Is that what you call this?” his stepfather shot back as if this response had been preplanned. Martin had always despised this about his stepfather. No matter the situation, he always seemed to have the perfect retort. “Help is when you ask someone for something and they give it to you. This isn’t help. This is stealing.”
Martin’s mother was now out of the car and approaching the two men. “What’s going on, Martin?” she asked, the tone indicating that she knew precisely what was going on but was feigning ignorance. This was one of his mother’s favorite ploys. She would allow her husband to come down hard on Martin and then sweep in, ignoring the remarks that had already been made and adding her own, gentler rebuke on top. Martin knew that this time would be no different.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I ran out of cash this month and I needed some Liquid Plumbr. It’s expensive and my toilet’s blocked. I’ll pay you back.”
“I understand, Martin. It would be nice if you had asked, though. That’s the difference between borrowing and taking. All you have to do is ask.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s just that you weren’t here and I really needed to …”
“We all need things,” she interrupted. “But we don’t just walk into people’s houses and take them.”
“Yeah, I know,” he replied, unable to look her in the eye. “I’m sorry.”
“Well,” his mother said, leading up to a phrase he had heard all too often growing up. “I’m going inside. It’s freezing out here. Will you be right along, Bill?”
“Right along” were two words that Martin’s mother adored. They meant that her husband now had a window of opportunity, not too long, in which to issue a final reprimand. And because his mother would not be present, she would not be implicated in whatever might be said.
“Right along, Jeannie,” he replied, not taking his eyes off Martin. He waited