If you’re new here, this is part of an ongoing experiment where I’m publishing raw, completely unedited chapters of a novel I’ve been writing (and rewriting… and doubting… and rewriting again) for the past couple of years.
If you’d like to catch up first:
This week, I’m sharing Chapter 3. As before, I’d really like to hear what you think—should I keep posting new chapters every week? Drop a comment and let me know what’s working, what isn’t, and whether I should keep going or retire quietly into a cave somewhere with coffee and doubt.
Alright—on to Chapter 3.
Chapter III
We both turned to see Dad standing by the door.
“Hi there, handsome.” Mom’s eye brightened. She went to the door and took his computer bag from him, kissing him on the lips.
“Hey dad. Eww, gross,” I joke sticking my finger down my throat making gagging sounds.
“One day this will be you, buddy boy,” he replied coming over and pulling me into a sideways hug. “How was school today? Did you get to hang out with your soccer buddies?”
“You just missed them,” mom replied before I could say anything. “They seemed to be a nice bunch.” They both eyed me expectantly.
“I guess so,” I shrugged uncommittedly.
“Didn’t they help you out during the soccer tryouts these last two weeks. I thought that was nice of them to welcome you like they did. After all, it’s been less than three weeks since we moved from New Jersey, and you already had a welcoming committee waiting for you.” She smiled lightly pinching my cheek. “Meanwhile, I can barely remember the name of our neighbor across the street.”
“Miss Pippa,” Dad and I said together and laughed.
“Right, the retired sculptor,” she slapped her forehead. “That reminds me, I should walk over and bring her some home baked cookies to introduce myself properly.
My dad stuffs several chips into his mouth. “What if she’s gluten intolerant,” he asked as she slapped his hand away.
“Don’t spoil your appetites. We are grilling for dinner, and I have a glass of Apperol Spritz with your name on it.”
“As the local kids say: Daaaang,” he said opening his eyes wide in exaggeration.
“You’re crazy, you know that” she laughed.
He gave her a quick pack on the lips.
“And you’re both making me nauseous,” I laughed.
“Oh yeah?” My dad started walking toward me. “You think you’re too grown up for a kiss from your father? Come over here,” he lunged after me, but I was already racing through the hallway.
“Catch me if you can, smooch man,” I laughed.
“Hey! That’s Doctor smooch man for you, Buster,” he shouted pretending to chase me.
“Okay, when you’re both done running around the house I spent all morning cleaning, meet me outback so we can start grilling.”
Dinner was grilled T-bone steaks seasoned with a very light layer of coarse sea salt and sliced zucchinis with a nice serving of mom’s special red pickled onions. A pitcher of iced tea was passed around while we talked about dad’s new job.
“So, when you say that you build Linux appliances, you mean…” mom gestured for my dad to complete the sentence for her.
He laughed, wiping his lips with a paper napkin before replying. “Well, to be honest I’m still trying to grasp the concept, but as far as I could pick up so far, we have created a mechanism that allows any customer to take their custom software applications and wrap it up in our technology in such a way that it makes it as easy to use as if it you were plugging in a regular appliance.”
“Like a toaster?” I bit into a piece of grilled zucchini, it’s buttery sweet flavor bursting and dripping down my chin.
“Or a blender?” Mom added, handing me a paper napkin.
“Precisely,” he beamed.
“But you’re not selling toasters?”
“Or blenders,” I added.
“Right!” He looked from me to her and back to me expectantly.
“You lost me honey,” she wagged her head.
“Yeah, me too big fella,” I nodded.
We all busted out laughing. Dad wiped a tear from his eyes, flicking it off with his finger.
“Well, I got to practice my pitch or it’ll be really hard to convince anyone to join my new team.”
“How many people—do you want another piece, Tommy?—report to you right now?”
That’s the thing. I’m currently the proud senior manager of zero software engineers.” He smiled.
“That’s got to be exciting,” she said clearly trying to sound more cheerful than she looked.
“It’s definitely a start,” he put his knife down and bit into another piece of his steak. “I have already scheduled a couple of calls with some local recruiters and tomorrow I’m calling the Dean from the computer science department at UNC to see if we can start an internship program for next summer.”
“Maybe Tommy could apply for the internship,” she looked at me.
“Mom,” I protested. “You know I’m not into coding. Besides, I’m hoping to get accepted into a soccer camp for next year.”
“I wouldn’t be able to hire or offer Thomas an internship. It wouldn’t be ethical,” dad added helpfully.
“Oh, that’s just too bad,” I joked with mocked disappointment. “I was already looking forward to slinging so much code over the summer.” I winked at my mom.
“Riiiiight,” he laughed. “Tell us about this soccer camp. Is it run by the high school or is it related to that scout you mentioned the other day… Ned something?”
“Ned Gavison,” I said.
“Right! Ned Gavison, the famous soccer scout from the Charlotte Football Club.”
“You got the name and team correct, but Ned is not behind it. This is a regular soccer camp the university runs every summer where you get to play with the new recruits and most of the returning students for an entire week.”
“Sounds like fun,” said Mom.
“And expensive,” Dad added.
“That’s just the thing. I’m not planning to attend the camp as a paying student.” I paused for as long as I could, enjoying the fact I had their undivided attention.
“Are you just going to sit there and let us agonize over this or do we need to beg you to finish telling us about your plan?”
“The plan is to be the top scorer this season. Every year the player that scores the most goals and the goalie that allows the least number of goals get invited to join the camp free of charge.” I look down at my feet not wanting to show too much excitement.
“Holy crap,” mum blurted out. “Sorry,” she covered her mouth with a hand in apology. “But… wow! Do you think you have a shot at it, Tommy?”
“Of course he does,” my dad answered. “The kid’s a natural.”
“I don’t like to brag, but I’m kind of a big deal,” I grinned shrugging and waving my hands and false modesty.
“You better look out, Mr. Hot Shot, or that big head of yours may pop before you can enjoy your not-even-started career,” Mamma wagged a finger at me. “Remember that teamwork is very important and that no one person is better than anyone else.”
She pushed her plate away and stood up, continuing. “Everyone has a role to play and it’s important that everyone works together. Goodnight,” she kissed my head and started going inside.
“Hey, and what about working together and helping clean up this mess,” I protested.
“Mama cooked up a storm; Mama needs her beauty sleep now.” She winked.
I laughed. “She played as both with that ’there’s no I in team’ spiel. Are you going to let her get away with it?”
Dad got up and started picking up the dirty dishes. “Happy wife, happy life, kiddo. Now let’s see how skilled you are at washing dishes,” he smirked.
Disclaimer: Murder Hornet is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real events is purely coincidental. All content presented here is the intellectual property of the author, Og Maciel, and may not be reproduced, distributed, or shared in any form or by any means without the author’s prior written consent.
Photo by Tatiana Tochilova on Unsplash