Hobbling Along

Snooze.

Over and over and again, he pressed down on the snooze button.

The couch wasn’t comfortable. For only a few hours, his face was pressed against the green cushions, emerald string intertwined with scarlet. But just being able to lay out his back after a long night of drinking was good enough for Geoff.

A series of aggressive vibrations rang out from his phone. He pushed off the couch. Dim rays of sun broke through the white, vertical blinds that hung on the sliding glass door. A glance down at the floor allowed Geoff to breathe a sigh of relief, as the carpet wasn’t stained with puke. He lifted his phone, further away from his face than normal. The screen’s light was blinding. Not because of the time, no. Daylight in a morning after Christmas was never too early.

Another notification came through. Geoff dropped his phone on the shag carpet. He held his breath. Underneath a low ceiling, his head grazed the plaster when he stood. Geoff kept on the tips of his toes. The sliding glass door unlocked, his eyes widening at the cold, winter morning.

Two more green bars flashed across his screen. Geoff moaned. The last thing he remembered drinking tasted like spicy apple juice. Geoff crouched, unsure why, and moved along the edge of the covered pool. He stabbed at the glass screen in his palm. The yard was the kind where the driveway was half a hundred-meter dash away from the pool.

“Are you kidding me?” His dad’s voice was a low grumble.

“What? Not like I was out robbing banks.” Geoff remembered his days playing hide and go seek in the neighborhood: heel first, then toes. Snow remained on the lawn’s trim.

“I hope you had fun.” His dad tried his best not to hiss.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” Further down the driveway was a pair of stone pillars. The metal fence was twice his own size. He winced and thought it better to find a side exit. Geoff cut through the lawn, feet sinking into the grass. Not a worry, since he had all day to clean his shoes.

“I’ve covered for you enough. Check the date.”

Geoff did. He leaned back against the far side of the garage and swore. Two small black stakes hid from view under bushes and what remained of the snow. Still wincing and head throbbing, he kept walking. Not a drip of water slid down his gullet last night. The body aches would soon kick in.

“Are you nearby?”

“No, I stayed the night in Grace Point.” His mind immediately turned back to his mom. Only an inch shorter than him, her anger the other night reminded Geoff that with a few choice words she could seem twice as tall. He bit his lip.

“You have to get here as soon as possible.” Geoff didn’t have to look at the clock again to know where his mom was this morning. His dad kept talking. “She’s out now. I can’t pick you up. I suggest you move it.”

“Why can’t you pick me up?” He leaned on the fence, but his dad responded fast.

“Car’s on the fritz.”

His dad hung up. Geoff yanked the phone away from his ear. Neither of them wanted to remind the other of how foul of a mood his mother could be in if she felt betrayed. Poisonous, angry, if Geoff ran into her during a morning run, her words were sure to be laced with venom. Well, no better time to act. He stepped back away from the fence, an inch or two higher than his hip, and took a running start.

A leap and his foot tapped the metal railing, but the ground rose up and smacked him in the face. A hot pain wrapped his ankle. He groaned, eyes still closed. A sneaking suspicion deep down told Geoff his hangover was the least of his worries.

He reached down and grabbed both ankles. One, the one that tapped against the metal rungs, felt thin. The other had a small bubble wrapped around the area just above his foot. Every time he touched it, his foot stung. An angry glare, harsh yelling, and finger pointing, motivated Geoff, still. Even with his foot ballooning, he turned over and pushed himself off.

Hobbling on, he walked down the back yard. He tried texting his dad to see if it was possible for him to pick him up.

“There’s a back way,”- no, his dad knew the way around his own neighborhood. “My car has-,” but his mom was surely on the lookout for his car as well. “My freaking ankle-,” wasn’t going to be good enough. Geoff wasn’t supposed to be out in the first place.

Steeper than Geoff thought, the downward slope away from the girl’s backyard was slick. Motion detectors snapped to life. Beeping, chirping, Geoff trundled onward. Hands in his pockets, he swayed closer to the left-hand sidewalk.

Sloping upward, his ankle stung with every step he took on the black tar. The walk home wasn’t long. Still, hands in his pockets, he tried to hurry along. It wouldn’t have been that unusual to see someone walking at his not-too-early hour. But Geoff’s clothes looked well slept in.

A dog barked. Even from down the street, Geoff could picture the dog, a big mutt he’d passed many times before. He never thought anything of a mortgage, until he went away to school and drove through Grace Point the first time. Wide estates with well-trimmed lawns, even in the winter, imposed themselves on Geoff. Twice, he passed homes with entire bay windows whose sole purpose seemed to be to display a magnificently large tree. Both homes looked warm, Geoff admitted. Probably cost a fortune, too.

The dog barked again. He spotted a red shoe and dove out of sight, not thinking twice. Even with his ankle, Geoff didn’t have time to think twice. He’d seen those shoes before. Tossed them down the steps. Nudged them out of the way. Once he even tried to get his dad to give them a whiff.

Feet pounding on the pavement, the thumping grew louder. Geoff assumed she was jogging closer. The safest thing for him and his dad’s sanity was to keep his back pressed against the brick wall. Knees tucked to his chest, he inched further along the wall. Power ballads straight from the eighties escaped her phone.

The breathing, huffing, stomping from his mom’s run; all the sounds grew quieter. Geoff didn’t dare turn around. All growing up, she had eyes in the back of her head to go along with her sixth sense. Impressive stuff, looking back. Not awkwardly, because he didn’t care about neighbors he didn’t know, Geoff traipsed through the front yards, hunching low for far too long

Images of his mom boasting about her morning run flashed through his head. She was always impressed with how warm the sun hit in the morning, even in the winter, and even when she skipped her morning meetings to get a few extra minutes of shut eye. Was it two or three laps she took? Geoff knew she referred to them as laps, so that meant she probably ran back around the same way twice.

A second yard had been vandalized by Geoff’s footprints. Shadows began to flutter in the windows. Not good. Thankfully, Grace Point was uphill from his parents. He sure as hell would find it hard climbing the wet road with a bum ankle. In the corner of his eye, he spotted a small hill. No fence blocked off the backyard.

Even better was the empty driveway and pulled curtain.

Geoff hurried and broke out into a little jog. A large man in red and white waved in his direction, with an everlasting smile. Gone was the fiery pain that wrapped his ankle, if only for a moment. Maybe the pain was all in his head. He pushed off harder, trying to run faster, but by the time he climbed the small hill in the side yard and had a chance to rest against the home’s wooden fence, his ankle felt worse.

Gasping, he pushed against the white panel and immediately fell on his face.

Something thick and white fell into his mouth. Geoff struggled to push himself off the ground. The first time, he slipped. The second time he grabbed a handful of mud. It was only on the third attempt Geoff managed to wipe his eyes.

Shredded paper mixed with minuscule bits of confetti had been scatted all about the yard. Baking powder could certainly be smelled. Not an inch of green remained. Candy canes stood guard on the edges of the yard, still lit up from the night before.

Cardboard cutouts of elves waved in every direction. Whoever lived here was some lucky kid. He tried getting on his toes, suddenly careful not to ruin the display. Geoff only began to hobble when he remembered how soon his mother might return home. He skipped around small presents, ducked under string lights, and even managed to avoid falling into a tree twice his size.

The end corner was blocked by a red bricked house. The words “Santa’s Workshop” were neatly painted across the top panel. Geoff observed either side. It looked like a shed, yet no one was home. He walked up to the door, gave it a push, and strode inside.

Darkness, pitch black, except for the small sliver of sun emanating from the other end. Geoff stepped forward, but didn’t make it more than an inch.

“Happy birthday!”

He yelled. The voice sounded so real. Two black gloves waved out of nowhere. Over and over, Geoff was wished a happy birthday. If it was, it was the worst birthday ever. Arms waving, he stumbled back, and crashed through the back door. The last thing he saw before he rolled down the hill were three giant snowballs, the voice still wishing him a happy birthday.

Leaving behind the heated driveways and iron fences meant Geoff was closer to getting home. But certainly not like this. Maybe he would get a concussion. That’d be a terrible way to end his holiday break, but it would also get him out of the stupid dinner his mom had planned. Maybe he’d actually break his ankle. One thing was for certain, Geoff thought, as he pushed himself off the ground for the umpteenth time. No one found themselves covered in mud while sleeping in their own damn basement.

The slope of the street was more than familiar. He wasn’t almost home. No, he still had to cross some damn forest. Geoff didn’t look at his phone. Time was running out and he already knew that. His head checked both sides of the street before he ran.

Hobbling, he almost ate more concrete and dirt. The stretch of land in front of him was flat. Still, his ankle throbbed. Holding his breath, grunting, none of it worked to help tone down the pain.

The plains narrowed to a dead forest with branches sticking out of every end. This wasn’t where he grew up, but Geoff still knew the area well enough. More water crept into his socks. If he knew he would be running home on one ankle, trying to hurdle over branches while nursing a violent hangover, Geoff maybe wouldn’t have gone out.

“Maybe” being the operative word.

To his surprise, a thin walkway of pavement appeared. He follows it, finding it easier to stumble on than the wet ground. The path gave way to a collection of dozen wooden huts. The market signs and stalls still hadn’t been taken down. Geoff could only admire the thick brown stalls for a moment. That same thumping grew closer.

He turned, ready to face his mom, eyes closed. But when he opened them, the racing of footsteps was replaced with a low growl. Geoff breathed a sigh of relief.

The dog, in the meantime, continued to growl.

“Hey, bud.” Geoff extended a hand toward the dog. Splotches of black fur ruined the near immaculate white sheen of his body. Still, he growled. Geoff retracted his peace offering.

“You lost bud?” One step after another, Geoff backed off, his head on a swivel. The dog followed, one paw matching each of Geoff’s steps.

“Oh, hell, man.” Geoff couldn’t help himself but whine. “Leave me the hell alone man.”

One step after another, until Geoff hit the wall of one of the stalls. The ceilings were too high for him to scale. The dog continued to growl, teeth baring the closer he stepped.

Just then, Geoff kicked a foot behind him. In his mind, the only possibility for him to do next was to run. Hopefully, the damn thing wasn’t rabid. Clattering on the floor, even the dog’s ears perked up. Geoff looked down, thinking the sound was familiar, to see an electric moped lay askew.

“Adios, pal.” Geoff waved goodbye to the mutt, picked up the moped, and drove off. It was lighter than he expected. Hopefully, it wasn’t someone’s Christmas present. Feet pressed down on the gas, Geoff took off.

The dog yelled, if dogs could yell, but Geoff nearly shouted back. Speeding along the pavement, Geoff yelped as his body swayed side to side. He couldn’t remember how to keep the moped straight. The dog barked, snapping at the back of the bike. Part of him wondered if God sent the pooch as a small punishment.

It worked, Geoff thought. I’ll think twice next time I go out while I’m home.

He burst out of the park with aplomb. The dog still snapped. For a brief moment, the wheels cut across the wet dirt. Geoff shook in his seat. His ankle blared with pain like never before. He didn’t dare look back at the mess on the ground. Still, Geoff hurried off. It would be even more embarrassing if his mom had to save him from a dog attack.

The streets near his parents home were quiet. He hurried down the sidewalk. Leaning forward, he tried to will himself faster. Twice, the dog leapt in the air, thinking he was close enough for a piece of Geoff. Both times, he missed.

Geoff sped past Santas and giant bulbs hanging in front lawns. Cartoons characters were too tired to wave hello to him this morning. For the first time the entire holiday, he thought it was absolutely criminal of him not to take a second to enjoy the decorations. Red and green and twinkling gold, even in the early morning sun, carried a priceless holiday sheen.

Home was half a block away. His mom was nowhere in sight.

The dog whined again, out of nowhere. A straight stretch of sidewalk meant Geoff could afford to look back. Shoulders flat, the dog wasn’t hurt; simply defeated.

Geoff pumped a fist in the air.

He didn’t have time to think of a place to park the moped. Throwing it down on the ground in the back yard, Geoff found his own sliding glass door. He gave it a tug. Still unlocked. Geoff yanked it open and tripped. Again, face first, he found himself sprawled out on the floor.

Eyes heavy, he rolled on his back. The world finally turned to black. His ankle hurt more than ever, swollen and covered as if it was in a little more fire than before, but thankfully, he was home.

A familiar voice called down to him. “Hey,” his mom shouted, lightly at least. “You awake down there?”

“Only just,” Geoff grumbled. But it was a happy grumble.