Tuesday, May 15, 2007

I am forbidden from telling my mother this story

(but will certainly tell her anyway).

My father stayed with me on Sunday night, since he needed to move my sister out of her dorm at precisely 3:15 pm on Monday. Which is a dumb time to move. But whatever.

Since Felix--the ever-stoned and never-present (what's the opposite of "ubiquitous"?) super--still has my spare key, which was given to him six weeks ago when he said he was coming up "tomorrow" to unplug the sink, the toilet, and the bathtub, I have no spare key to give my father. I pull my key off my keyring and give it to him and tell him he could give it back at lunch.

At lunch, I asked for the key back. No, no, says my father. He still needed it to get some stuff he left in my apartment, and besides, he and my sister are coming over for dinner after the move-out.

Ok, I say. You'll be back there before I get out of work, right?

Yes, he promises. Or, even better--we'll pick you up from work on our way.

At 5 pm I get a call from my sister. We're on our way to your house! she said excitedly. I frown to myself--I never leave work at 5, and usually it's more like 7 when I finally head out. But just this once, I figure it's all right to leave early. What with the family responsibilities etc.

Ok, I say. You're going to pick me up?

There's no room for you in the car, she says. You'll have to take the train. We'll be there at your place in about 20 minutes.

Ok, I say. I don't have a key, so make sure you guys let me in!

Don't worry, she says. We will.

I rush to pack up my stuff and email myself a bunch of catalog copy to write at home. I jump on the train, which takes 40 minutes, and rush home, worried that I've kept them waiting. My dad's car is nowhere to be found.

I call my sister. We couldn't find a parking space, she says. Where are you? I ask. Down at 125th. AGES away. We'll take the train back up. We'll be there in about an hour.

Where'd you leave the key? I ask.

Silence. Then, "woops."

Kitty!! I shout. I don't have a key!! Dad couldn't leave you at home to let me in? You made me leave work early and now I get to wait on the stoop?

We forgot the key, Dad, she says.

No use yelling at my sister. I sit quietly on the front stoop for about an hour and read a manuscript. Every call that drives by slows down and honks. One guy asks me how much. In all fairness, if I were them I would assume my silly white ass was for sale, too. I do some jumping jacks. I wander around the block.

The hour passes. Suddenly, my sister appears on the horizon. Suspiciously, she is not coming from the direction of the train station. And she's not with my father.

"Where's Dad?" I ask.

"Doo doo doo," she says. "You know what? I could really use a Mr. Softee! Let's go find a truck."

Now I'm really suspicious. My sister doesn't eat sweets.

"Kitty. Where. Is. Dad."

She covers her face with her hands. "He's coming."

"Where's my key?" I say, holding out my hand.

"Doo doo doo," she says. "How about that Mr. Softee?"


"In the car," she says. "But don't tell him I told you." First the man locks me out of my own house. Then he locks my key in his car and comes all the way uptown. Has to take the train all the way back downtown, and sends my sister to distract me with ice cream. It's kind of cute, in an I-should-have-stayed-at-work kind of way.


jalexissmith said...

Sometimes I wonder how anyone in your family ever survived past 4th grade........ and then I remember that it is because of your superior wit and guile.... but perhaps not because of your logical skills or memory.

moonrat said...

yeah. fair enough.

Bluenana said...

Oh. my. goodness.

I would have flipped out and murdered my sister by pushing her in front of a moving Mr. Softee truck, only because my father was on a train and not available for patricide.

space alien said...

For the record, this story is an obsene exaggeration. I never say "doo doo doo" AND I actually did want Mr. Softee at the time, thank you.