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Tapping at my Chamber Door

I’m leaning across the passenger seat while my left finger works to roll down the window.

“Mike! Michael!” I’m yelling to him as he walks up the pathway up to his dad’s apartment. He turns to face me.

“Wait a minute. Come here!”  

He runs all discombobulated towards the car with his hood up, jacket flailing, and a cheese Handy Snack in one hand. I recognize it appears that he was only marginally successful at putting on his shoes before we walked out the door twenty minutes prior, as they too, were flapping under his heel as he ran.

Out of breath he asks, while leaning in through the open passenger window, “What Mom? What?”

“Hold on one second. I don’t want you to be standing there long. Let’s make sure he is up.”

“I knew we should have called him before we left,” he acknowledges as I dial the number.

Blue tooth is on, so we’re listening intently as the phone rings….

Yeah, you’ve reached —. Please leave a message and I’ll call ya back.

“Aww, maan. I knew it.” Michael balks.

“Well, hold on a second. He’s probably just sleeping.”

Yeah, you’ve reached —. Please leave a message and I’ll call ya back.

We’re used to this ordeal. Calling. No answer. Calling. No answer. Knocking. Nothing. Ringing. Crickets. Until finally, a scramble is heard on the other side of the door, dad appears, eyes are rolled (those belong to me), and a good bye kiss is given (that belongs to Michael).

Dad works over nights. Our sleep patterns are reversed. We accept this. Most of the time.

In desperate moments of the calling no answer charade, some of which have not been my finest, I have hurled things at the bedroom window. His apartment is on the second floor of a three flat and adjacent to a busy street. Be that as it may, a Mom’s got to do what a Mom’s got to do, so at 7:30am when little man needs to be dropped off so Mom can go to work, you bet your high tail I’m chucking any free flying objects at that window, usually accompanied by a form of free flying profanity under my breath. Agreed. Not my finest.

Most often, it’s early enough in the morning and I’m annoyed enough not to give this action a second thought. Today, it’s 3:30 in the afternoon.

“Should I toss something at the window?” He asks me as he walks away from the car door.

“No. Just try the bell again.”

I’m in the middle of the calling no answer charade as Michael is simultaneously knee deep in the ringing no answer follow up. Every ten seconds he pops off the porch from behind the obstruction of the oversized bush to give me a raised brow or a thumbs down. He races back to the car, but makes a detour left to the lawn. Once upon the lawn, he makes a gesture to me, holding up his cheese Handy Snack. Throw this? He asks me telepathically with raised brows.

“No!” I shout. “Use a pine cone. Over there.” I’m pointing from the driver’s seat ten feet from the car.

He runs up, picks up two pine cones, and runs to the window. He winds up, full extension back, and hurls the pine cone fiercely! dink. Another! dink. He looks back at me with frustrated eyes. Reinforcements are needs. I run up to the window, equipped with full, self-conscious awareness of the passing cars and pick up the discarded pine cone. I wind up with a mighty Popeye style 360 spin and  fling that cone with all my power. dink.

Aw, what the…

I begin laughing at the ridiculousness of this fiasco and decide to run back to the front door on the other side of the building. As I’m rounding the corner, Michael passes me to go back out front. This time we don’t even speak. We’re on a mission. He knows it. I know it.

I ring the bell. Nothing.

“Michael!” I call out.

Ring. Nothing. At this point, I am annoyed. I begin to text him.

You said to come at 3:00. We are here. You are not ans…

A scramble is heard on the other side of the door.

“Michael!” I call out.

Disgruntled Dad appears, sleepy faced and confused.

“Michael!” I shout out again. From around the corner, Michael comes jogging with a flimsy, five foot stick equipped with full, flapping foliage.

“Could I use this, Mom?” He yelps while approaching.

I roll my eyes. “Not necessary,” and I nod over to the doorway with Dad.

He smiles. I return it, a goodbye kiss is given, and I walk leisurely back to my car.

As far as the rap tap tapping? Nevermore. 

Next time, please just answer your door. 

Categories: Uncategorized


5 replies

  1. OMG – I was so frustrated reading this which means you did a fabulous job writing it. I chuckled when he “asked” if he could throw the Handy Snack and you say no, get a pine cone. I don’t know how you continually do this?!?!? Ugh! Great slice!

  2. You have many writing talents, but my favorite is your imagery. Every slice you write, I am perfectly picturing it in my head (and usually laughing too). Even though the situation sounds extremely aggravating, you still managed to make me laugh out loud. Great slice. Thanks! 🙂

  3. I was so frustrated and anxious. Is he there? Is he going to answer? I was laughing out loud though with the throwing of the pine cones, and the two of you passing each other from the front to the back. Too funny.

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