C4 antho - Chamber Four

~116~ The Chamber Four Fiction Anthology
Without question, my mother’s job as head trainer for
the San Antonio Spurs put an unnecessary strain on my parents’
already less-than-blissful marriage. Imagine a surplus
of multimillion-dollar star-studded athletes continually hitting
on the one woman allowed on the court. Thankfully, my
father’s job as the assistant manager for a post-it note company
offered far less marital liability. His decisions rarely involved
which blonde bombshell executive to sleep with, and
instead, seemed to focus more on what flavored adhesive
would appeal most to middle school teachers.
The answer was kiwi-strawberry.
On the surface, we all appeared content with our life’s
tidy arrangement of post-its and icepacks, adhesives and Ace
bandages, though one night at dinner we just stopped being
content.
“Well, what would you have done if Damien Markus
asked for your hand in marriage?” Mom asked, salting her
meatloaf.
Dad claimed he’d have said no, that he wasn’t “into all
that muscle.”
“Frankie?” she asked, turning to me.
I dragged a French fry across my plate, told her I guess
I’d have to think about it.
“What’s to think about?” Mom laughed. “He’s in the
NBA! You thought we had great seats before, wait till you see
where you’re sitting next season.”
Thanks to my father, the next season I’d most likely be
sitting buck-naked on a metal foldout chair, watching the
game on a rabbit-eared television, a few saggy-balled senior
citizens commentating on either side.
But that first day, when Dad and I pulled into Nature’s
Bounty, “Southern Texas’s #1 Naturalist Community” my