My Big Wolf Dad is a Goofball (1/2)
#12 of Random Stuff
Cael. I need you home. It's your mother..
Cael was jolted out of early morning, blissful grogginess. On what was supposed to be the first day of summer break. Cold dread crawled down his spine even under the warm shower, and then around the time he was dressed and ready it had settled into a pit in his stomach.
Between the cleared desk and window looking out on the campus, he paced while holding the phone to his ear. Nothing. How many times had he tried to call back? Must have been nearing a dozen.
That by itself wasn't a huge red flag. His father was notoriously bad about answering his phone. He had a talent for losing the thing, and would be far separated from it even seconds after a missed call. Cael could picture it fallen between couch cushions or forgotten on the coffee table. But under the circumstances it boiled his blood. He cocked his hand back to spike the phone on the carpet but stopped himself and merely slipped it into his jeans pocket.
In the mirror, Cael stood rigid for a few seconds. The snug RIOT-4-CHARITY band shirt swelled as he took a deep breath to steady himself. The Canid was slim and lanky, his fur a soft tan. Cream highlights tipped his ears, muzzle and formed long gloves on his arms, while a dab near each eye gave the appearance of winged eyeliner at first glance. Long, cinnamon toned bangs framed his face, darkening to reddish highlights. Most certainly he was male, but mother nature took quite a bit of artistic liberty with him.
One mercy was that home was only a couple hours drive away. Dumping his backpack on the bed and grabbing some paltry supplies, he headed out the door after one last futile check of his phone.
A spiral of clouds traced along the view ahead. As Cael's car exited the tunnel, the road provided a bird's eye view of the station. Green farm fields and pastures, curving up at either horizon. The titanic honeycomb of windows taking up the other half of the cylinder, was still low on the horizon. Letting in early sunlight to slant across woods and mountains, and the occasional glint of a featureless chrome building.
The bridge crossing the cylindrical sea was eerily devoid of traffic. Beyond the final pylons was a steep decline in the road, and from the top he could see the sprawl of upscale estates and homes tucked in the greenery. Westgate, where many of the station's high level professionals congregated. Chief engineers, scientists, starship captains..and two jump engine mechanics. He hoped it was still two.
-
The Fletcher household stood atop a set of stone steps, gated by high iron bars. In the front yard, a willow peeked over the fencing and the brick walls were climbed by flowering vines. He followed a brick pathway branching around a bog garden, to the front door. Unlocked. It swung inward silently and a wave of cool air tinged with citrus hit Cael as he stepped inside.
Central to the living room was a large L-shaped leather couch. One corner covered in a slightly lumpy old zebra-striped blanket. His father's territory. Sure enough, a battered phone sat on one of the armrests plugged into its charger. He had set it down and walked away exactly as suspected. Cael took the phone and shook his head.
A picture was situated on the nearby end table. In it, he stood beside his little sister, who towered over him and rested an elbow on his head while he looked none too pleased with it. She had inherited the steely gray and black fur colors of their father, among other things. She was constantly tinkering with her car in the garage, white undershirt spattered with grease.
The day he had gone off to college, she had scooped him up in her musclebound arms and kissed him on top of the head.
"If any of those college boys break your heart, I'll break their spines! Nobody messes with my cute little big brother,"
Then there was a photo of Nari, his mother- a petite Arctic Fox, holding up a huge turnip she had plucked from her garden. Cael had to look away, as the sting in his eyes started. He had to find out what in the hell was going on.
-
Alasdair Fletcher, called "Al" for short, had been well prepared for the life of an asteroid miner. But a natural talent for mechanics had other plans. His skills propelled him from a backwater mining moon to the top of his class in jump drive engineering.
The Wolf's upper half rose over the desk like a muscled bust carved in honor of some Greek diety. The broad span of shoulders and barrel chest could not be hidden even under the veneer of a business shirt. Merely reaching to the keyboard caused his biceps to bulge enough to look ready to tear through the fabric. The garment's collar ringed a thick neck, bundling up the mane of fluff. Above this his shaggy, broad head stared in concentration with a pair of glasses precariously situated on a wide snout.
"Dad!"
Al' looked up, flicking one of his ears absently. Blue eyes stood out amid the fluff, watching from over top of his glasses. Cael was in the doorway, still grasping the knob as he looked with apprehension to his father's face.
Timidly Cael approached the desk, hands crossed at his waist as if in trouble.
"Got your message. Wh-what happened?"
"Oh, your mother had to go planetside on business. She's going to be gone for a couple weeks. So I need you..to um, help out with things.."
Trailing off, Al cleared his throat. Cael looked on for a few seconds, mouth agape. Then his face scrunched up.
"Okay? So what was with that voicemail?"
A shrug, "I thought it was clear and concise,"
"Are you serious?"
Cael slammed his palms on the desk, bringing his glare closer. The question was repeated with more venom, sounding less like a question.
"The way you were talking...I thought..You had me rushing down here scared to death. Just to do what, the flipping laundry? Are you insane?!"
Alasdair was leaning back in the chair, arms crossed as he looked sheepishly to his son. Cael wasn't shouting, just making his voice very pointy. It was such a close impression of his mother that the Wolf was at a brief loss for words.
"I really didn't think you were like that," Cael went on, "You really can't clean up around here? It's women's work, is that it?"
"No, that's not the case at all. I called you and not your sister. And it's not really the-,"
A shake of the head, and Al rose from the desk. Standing at his full seven foot four height, he approached his son who had to tilt his glare up the sheer cliff of abs and pecs.
"Here's the thing.."
Ears lowered in embarrassment. The big Wolf just couldn't find the words. He raised a hand to place on Cael's shoulder but decided against it. If Cael was that similar to his mother, then he would probably bite when angry.
Cael settled for tossing his arms up in frustration.
"Whatever,"
The door slammed behind him.
-
Cael was about to storm out when something caught his eye in the upper hallway. It was a sock discarded on the floor. An eye twitched at that. He picked it up, but found another one not far away.
Beyond that, one of the carpets on the floor was kicked askew and a corner folded over itself. A closet door stood open. His sister's toolbox, his mother's pickleball paddles, all scattered in the wake of a laundry basket that had been dragged out and toppled. What the hell was his dad even trying to do here? A rhetorical question, as he wouldn't even know.
"I suppose mom wouldn't be happy to come home and have to clean up a wreck. And I'm already here,"
-
The backyard was not a disaster area at least. He sighed, sitting on the edge of the fish pond and listening to water trickle down the rocks. Planters lined the high fences, a splash of color from the flowers there as squash and watermelon vines climbed the posts.
It was such a nice scene, to feel so cross about things. Cael stole a glance up at the second floor window, behind which his father would be at his desk. He always worked hard. The guy knew jump drives, knew how to practically hack the universe. But with everything else he could be so scatterbrained.
An idea came as suddenly as a lightning bolt, causing Cael's ears to perk up. He didn't want to be angry so he wouldn't. Instead, he could teach his father to do his share of the housework. It was so simple he should have thought of it earlier, if he were not so hazy from fear and dread.
But his face darkened just as swiftly. Now that he was calm and able to parse their conversation, it seemed like housework wasn't the only problem. His dad had some sort of confession almost. What could that be? Maybe he'd find out soon enough.
-
With a final few keystrokes, Alasdair finished up and sent his files. His careful review of the new jump drive schematics were completed in time for the last few rays of sunlight to slip away as the station rotated to its night phase.
He leaned back and stretched, filling the dark office with a crack or two. Hefting himself out of his chair, he ventured downstairs and straight to his favorite spot on the couch. Unbuttoning his shirt, he kicked back and clicked the television on. Its light washed away the deep sunset spilling in.
Getting lost in some mindless television helped to uncramp his brain a bit. Some time later, he perked his ears up as footsteps tapped in the kitchen behind him. The freezer opened and an ice tray cracked, then the cubes were plopped into liquid. A pause and then a soft sigh.
A growl in his stomach reminded him he had skipped lunch.
"Hey babe, what's for din...ner?"
Looking over his shoulder, he found Cael standing there. Oh yeah.
"What did you call me?!"
Cael asked with annoyance. But he handed off a tall icy glass of tea with some orange slices adrift, then took a seat on the couch. By this time Al had drained half of his and smacked his lips.
"Ah, that hits the spot. Never thought I'd be converted to a tea drinker but here we are,"
Cael said nothing, only sipped from his own drink and propped one leg over the other. A sandal dangled as he looked to the television. Pink pawpads and well manicured claws were visible as he scrunched his toes. Al tugged at his collar and then turned his attention elsewhere.
This is GNN
The robotic newscasters went on about the latest clown sightings on Orbital B0-Z0. Boy they were really milking that story. Father and son watched the latest goings on around the galaxy until Cael broke the silence.
"You hungry?"
"Uh, yeah. I guess we can order a pizza or something. There's nothing but raw vegetables and oil and stuff in the kitchen,"
"Yes. Those are called ingredients. I've got something baking in the oven,"
-
It didn't even need to be said where Cael's cooking skills came from. The sauce was spot on and noodles perfectly noodly. Steamed veggies and beef were plentiful. The Wolf shoveled all into his mouth, rushing delivery to his stomach. The meal was devoured, then the plate licked clean. Only then did Cael regain his father's attention over his own half consumed dinner.
"So. I probably overreacted a bit earlier," Cael said.
Al shook his head and his gaze fell to his spotless plate.
"No. That was on me. Last thing I want to do is stress you out with classes and all. I wasn't thinking. Didn't get much sleep the other night. It's...uncomfortable for me. To admit weakness,"
Cael let a piece of broccoli plop back down to the plate. Then set his fork down. Alasdair felt a hand on his bicep. Small, delicate, resting on the rock hard mountain of muscle.
"You don't have to be that way with me. I'm not going to judge,"
A moment of silence passed as Al looked to his son, but the admission wasn't ready. Cael took the hint and stood up, sliding the rest of his dinner over.
"Well, in the meantime I'm going to show you how to help keep the house in order. We'll start tomorrow. Sound good?"
Al grinned and gave a nod, "It's a plan then,"
Cael reached down and plucked the glasses off Al's face.
"Don't go to bed with these, or you'll lose them. I'll put 'em on your nightstand,"
A pause and then Cael smoothed down one of the tufted cheeks on the Wolf's fuzzy face. Als lips puckered, purely out of muscle memory. He quickly snapped his head away, blushing under his fur. Cael made no mention of it, leaving the room with his tail slinking around the doorway.
After his son departed, something smacked into the bottom of the table hard enough to rattle the cutlery.
Lord have mercy...too damn similar