The Cocky Hockey Captain

Chapter 4 ● Sweet Home Alberta

I clenched and unclenched my fists as I followed him down Main St. We met with the realtor who would help us find a house, a middle aged lady called Mrs. Hyde. Dad introduced me as just Charlie, and this caused the woman to stare at me for quite a few long seconds until she dismissed me. For the rest of the walk she had as bright a smile as though she were about to profit off of a multimillion dollar home purchase, instead of renting us a run down house in the middle of town.

The whole town was so small that we were easily able to walk to the first house we were seeing.

I burst out laughing as soon as I saw it. And it was definitely not the good kind of laughter.

The thing was crumbling. Shingles were shaved off. Shiplap was hole-pecked by termites, no doubt. The one tree in the front yard had casually dropped a full branch on top of the house that nobody had bothered to remove, and there was a crack that ran across the front porch like a scar and unhinged the front door.

I must have been looking at a mirror. The inanimate representation of who I was. That was what was so funny.

"I love it," I said, wiping the tears off my cheeks. "It feels just like home."

Dad glared at me even as the lady smiled at me with a lot more cunning in her eyes than I expected.

"It is true that the house is a shambles, but it's right on Main St. and if you were to restore it you would definitely gain the favor of the city and its residents." She swept a strand of hair behind her ear as she looked at my dad. "And that would be helpful for the CEO of Bernal Oil Industries, right?"

Smooth, I thought to myself. My jaw slackened mug seemed to amuse her, but meanwhile my dad betrayed nothing.

"Well, let's look at it from the inside."

We did. I was honestly impressed with Mrs. Hyde as she led the way in and expertly navigated through the house avoiding the spots in the floor that looked like they could cave in under her feet. We saw a second house right after. It was smaller and smelled of a suspicious combination of humidity and smoke, and it was a block closer to the school.

As we walked down the front steps back outside, Mrs. Hyde said, "And that's it."

Both my dad and I looked at her in shock.

"That's it?" I asked.

Dad swept his eyes up and down the street as if expecting sudden signs of For Rent to pop up in people's lawns.

She laughed as though this was the best joke she'd heard all day. "It's not like Silver Grove requires a booming real estate market."

My dad stuffed his hands in the pockets of his North Face vest and said, "That'll change once I'm done here."

"And I'm counting on it," she said, sweeping her arms out. "But for now, this is it. So, which one will it be, Mr. Bernal?"

As dad gave me a side glance I had the sudden feeling that I knew exactly which one he would pick. This was the problem between us, precisely. We thought too alike.

"Excellent!" she declared as dad spoke his choice of the shitty wreckage that was once a home to somebody who had zero fucks to give for it. "I'll begin to pull up the paperwork. I'm sure the owner is going to be so pleased."

He folded his arms and asked, "And may I know who the owner is?"

"Why, but it's me," she said.

Dad stood there, staring like an idiot. And for the second time that day I let out an ugly laugh. It wasn't often I saw him bested by somebody, especially not an unassuming little lady out for blood with a charming smile.