My True Love Gave to Me: Twelve Holiday Stories
“Yeah, maybe my old man could slip a few bucks in an envelope, mail it to my Brooklyn apartment (where it might get carried off by a pack of gangster rats), but he had his own worries. He was saving up for my little sis’s summer camp. And our dog, Peanut—probably the most flea-bitten, bucktoothed crossbreed you could ever imagine—had just required an emergency dental extraction. I know, right? The dog with the busted grill has dental needs. Okay. But according to my sis, the procedure cost over ...three hundred bones, and they had to put my old man on some kind of payment plan.
It’s fine.
I’d just go hungry this holiday season.
Nothing to see here.
“Mijo,” he told me over the phone on my first full day of cat sitting. “Everything is good up at your college?”
I stuck Mike’s acoustic guitar back on its stand. “It’s all good, Pop.”
“That’s good,” he said.
This word good, I thought. How many times did he and I throw that shit around these days? My old man because he didn’t trust his English, me because I didn’t want him to think I was showing off.MoreLess
It’s fine.
I’d just go hungry this holiday season.
Nothing to see here.
“Mijo,” he told me over the phone on my first full day of cat sitting. “Everything is good up at your college?”
I stuck Mike’s acoustic guitar back on its stand. “It’s all good, Pop.”
“That’s good,” he said.
This word good, I thought. How many times did he and I throw that shit around these days? My old man because he didn’t trust his English, me because I didn’t want him to think I was showing off.MoreLess
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