Wednesday, November 4, 2015

Generation One —Chapter Six ReBoot: I Don’t Remember Growing Older, When Did They?

As Erik blew out the candles on his birthday cake, officially marking his old age, he went over just what he had accomplished in this, his new life. He had, indeed, started all over. Hit the reset button and began again. His house, all one floor of it had a roof, now.
But still nothing more than cement for flooring. He’d have more than just the foyer and hallway walls covered, but for the appliances that continually broke down, one after another; wash, rinse, repeat. And then there was the ever-reliable delivery of bills. Every single time he amassed a few Simoleons to further the house along, almost without fail, the mailman would grace him with a nice neat stack of huge bills. The other day, in fact, she walked in through his back door, straight through his hallway and out the front door just to deliver his mail. All bills.
Yes, how very special of her. He made sure to lock the back door, after that.
Also, he seemed to have lost Time, on the whole. Patrice had a birthday and went from small child to a nearly grown woman. Unfortunately, all of those chips she’d snack on while unsupervised remained about her stomach and hips. He was so very glad that he met the teen girl Patrice had invited over, when he got home from work one day. She enjoyed hanging out with his children, so Erik invited her to do so from then on out. He also paid her a stipend for her trouble. He talked with her at length, more or less interviewing her, and his mind was set as ease. Especially, when he found her at his home whenever he got back.  
She was a nice girl. The boys, he had two now, were respectful enough and gave her no trouble. Patrice, on the other hand, continued to be a bit of a ‘problem child’. Shortly after her birthday, she skipped school to get herself tattooed! Erik wasn’t fond of such things and despite how wild he had been in his day, juicing and using herbs, he never got even a single small tattoo. He really loathed what his only daughter had done to herself. Black ink up her neck, around, and back down on the reverse side. It was hideous. But then again, he was just Dad. Old fashioned, and now an old fogey. What did he know? At least she didn’t seem to have too many male friends, to his intense relief. He was worried her wild and rebellious ways would get her into more trouble than she was ready for. Mostly, she antagonized any male she came into contact with. Luckily, it wasn’t up to her to carry on his family legacy.  

If he could send her off to university, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Or boarding school. The girl needed discipline. He recalled how his father railed about Erik’s younger sister. Brianna wasn’t at all a problem, not in Erik’s mind. Her greatest act of rebellion was to join the armed services. How very shocking. How absurd. She wanted to serve her country. How dare she? As it turned out, the young lieutenant met and married a Captain. Erik realized just how happy they were. So, taking the lesson at hand, he decided not to give Patrice a hard time about her tats, or her incredibly gross choice in makeup design and color. Instead, he asked her about her school work, her classmates and if she was generally happy. About her likes and dislikes and what she wanted out of life. Keeping the lines of communication open was important.

He wanted her right under his wing where he could protect her from herself.

When he came home one evening, he found Patrice messing around with his acoustic guitar. He smiled and proceeded to give her a few lessons in the guise of tips. In effect, he spent the next three hours mentoring her. In doing so, he finally achieved his aspiration. He passed on some knowledge to the next generation.


At age 104 days, Erik prayed he’d be around long enough to see both Ayden and Braylon reach their teen years. He was doubtful he’d make it that long. He was doing his best to wrap up as many loose ends as possible. He wrote that promised song for Zoe. And continued to harvest plants around his home. If he could just put in some flooring before he passed on …

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