Fall With Me

use her phone and I walk down to one of the paddocks and lean against the split-rail fence while I wait for him to answer his phone.
    “Carl Alexander,” he says in a clipped tone when he picks up.
    “Hey, Dad, how’s it going?”
    There’s a pause. “Griffin?”
    “Yes, Dad. Who else would be calling you Dad ?” That’s another distinction Cam made for himself early on. I don’t actually have any memories of Cam calling our father “Dad.” It was always “Carl.” Carl, would you let me borrow your Mercedes, or, better yet, buy me one of my own? Carl, you won’t believe how Griffin fucked up again. Carl, would you pass the peas?
    “There was some static on the line. I’m out on the golf course. It’s windy. I don’t usually answer my phone when I’m golfing.”
    “Yet you did this time.”
    “Yet I did. So would you like to tell me what exactly it is I can help you with?”
    “Oh . . . you know. Just had a quick question. Did you receive any strange calls from someone? From someone, say, oh, I don’t know, claiming that they had kidnapped me?”
    He coughs, once, twice. “Excuse me one minute,” I hear him say in a muffled voice to whoever he’s out golfing with. He gets back on the phone. “I may have received a rather unorthodox call. Clearly, though, you are all right. Am I correct?”
    “You always are.” Or at least you think you always are.
    “So then I was also correct in assuming that the call was a prank. Yet another pathetic extortion attempt by people who are too lazy or too stupid to amass large sums of money on their own. It’s really not difficult, you know.”
    “What? Extorting you? Because there actually were two men, who are probably dead now, who said they were going to kill me unless you paid them 7.2 million dollars. And confessed to something. What on earth could you possibly have to confess to, Dad?”
    There’s a lot he could confess to, I’m sure. A thing or two I might even be privy to, if you want the truth, though I’m no snitch. I wonder, though, just what sort of things he’s done that has pissed off someone so badly they’d demand that much money and a confession.
              “Is there something you need, Griffin? Because if not, I’ve got things to get back to.”
    “Of course. Don’t want to keep the putting green waiting. But yes. While I was being kidnapped, I lost my wallet. Can you believe it? So I need some money.”
    “Call your mother. She’s probably at home. She can transfer whatever you need into your bank account. You might also want to consider getting a job. Getting your life together and stop living off my dime. That thought ever cross your mind? You think your brother would call me with some ridiculous story like this? Get back in touch when you’ve got some good news to share. Like I said, I’m in the middle of something important right now, so it’s not really a good time to be talking about this.”
    “Okay, great!” I say. “Try not to go eight over par this time! Bye, Dad!”
    I throw the phone down and wonder how it’s possible my father is such a fucking douchebag.
    I take a few calming breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Ommmm . I had relations with a yoga teacher once, and aside from being wonderfully flexible, she taught me how to breathe. How most people go through their whole life not really being conscious of breath, and how, in almost any situation, taking a step back, looking inward, and focusing on breathing, will help you feel better almost immediately.
    I pick up the phone and dial Cam’s number.
    “It’s Griffin,” I say when he picks up.
    “I know who it is,” he snaps. “Where are you? What the hell is going on?”
    “Well, I’m okay, if that’s what you’re asking.”
    “So you’re not . . . you’re not kidnapped?” A hard edge is starting to creep into his tone.
    “I was kidnapped. And managed to escape, with the little help of an overzealous cetacean.”
    “A what?”
    “A whale.”
    He lets out a noisy breath. Cam, I can assure you, is not one of those people who pays much attention to the way they breathe.
    “Griffin,” he says, his voice low. “I am going to ask you this one time. Once, you got that? And you better tell me the truth.”
    “Okay.”
    “Are you just fucking with me here?”
              “No! Do you seriously think I’d call you out of the blue and tell you that I’d been