Author ~ Consultant ~ Creator at Large

Matthew Wayne Selznick

Hazy Days and Cloudy Nights

How It All Got Started 022: Carson
Free serial fiction from author and creator Matthew Wayne Selznick.

Friday, June 22, 1984

When Car got back home, he found his folks building a small collection of suitcases just outside the front door.

“You guys must be in some kind of hurry.”

One of the suitcases threatened to topple. Carson’s father laid a light hand on it. “Change of plans, champ. Your mother’s boss shelled out for a shuttle.”

“Oh! So you don’t need me to take you to the airport?”

His mother stacked a small carry-on on top of a duffel. “Nope! Once Carrie made the offer, I figured it just made sense. This way we don’t have to worry about coordinating with you when we come back, and you don’t have to plan around it.”

“Well, thanks!”

Car followed them into the house. His mother pointed in the general direction of the kitchen. “I didn’t think you had it, so I put Uncle Mic’s phone number on the fridge. If you need anything, or if you get tossed in jail or burn the house down or something, you can call him. I have no idea how easy it’ll be to get in touch with us, so he’s your guy.”

Car counted on his fingers. “Jail. House fire. Uncle Mic. Got it.”

His father said, “I’m not going to give you the ‘no wild parties’ speech, kiddo, since I know I don’t have to. Right?”

“I think you just gave me the ‘no wild parties’ speech, Dad.”

“So I did.” He grabbed his wife around the waist, pulled her close, and grinned. “Y’know, Carson, you mother and I have decided that you not coming with us is… not so bad.”

Car smiled, rolled his eyes and made gagging motions with his finger in his mouth. His parents laughed.

A horn sounded outside. Carson helped his folks load their bags into the shuttle van, hugged his father, hugged and kissed his mother, and stood in the driveway until the shuttle took his parents up the street and out of sight.

A little thrill passed through him.

Home alone!

He went inside, got a can of Doctor Pepper soda from the fridge (hi, Uncle Mic), threw himself on the couch in the living room, and turned on the television.

Two weeks.

Now what?

First up: he had a party to go to.

~

Series Navigation

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