Christmas with the Westons was always great fun, but being out of practice of having fifteen people in one house, five of whom are under the age of seven, was hard work. By the time Christmas Day was done with, I was itching to get out of the house, even just for an hour or so. Dad must have sensed it, because the morning after the big day, he came into the kitchen and handed me my old shotgun. Without a word, I followed him out to his truck, a box of shells resting on the dash.
It had been so long since Dad and I had been down to the old pasture to shoot; over the years we’d taken a bunch of stuff over there to use as target practice, but this time we raided the trash and gathered up a load of old beer cans. It took me a while to get used to the recoil against my shoulder, but I was soon numb to it and hitting can after can.
“Thanks for this Dad; it was just what I needed.” I told him once we’d run out of ammo, and sat on the hood of the truck, a flask of strong coffee between us.
“It was written all over your face boy, you’re not yourself this year.” There was no way I was getting down from the trunk unless I told him what was going on, and the thought made me sigh. “Boy, I’m worried about you. You haven’t got one of your… ‘girls’ pregnant have you.”
Neither of my parents approved of how I lived my life when it came to sex, but never came out and said anything straight to me about it, the odd comment like this one were usually passed and ignored.
“No dad, I haven’t; I always make sure I’m protected. Remember that talk we had when I was in sixth grade?” Dad laughed at the memory, making me smile a little. “But, don’t worry. I’ve not even had sex in three weeks.” The fact he was surprised by statement was a little depressing.
“Oh, really.” I watched as he poured us another cup of coffee. “What caused the change of heart?”
“I met a girl.” It was the only way I could even begin to explain.
“That’s great son, your mom will be happy.” I could just imagine my dad stalking into the house and announcing to my mom that I’d met someone, and Mom digging out bridal magazines. I shuddered at the Hallmark movie playing out before me.
“Dad, slow down. It’s not that simple.”
M. B. Feeney is an army brat who finally settled down in Birmingham, UK with her other half, two kids and a dog. Currently at university studying for her BA (Hons) in primary teaching, she procrastinates on her assignments by listening to music of all genres and trying to get ‘just one more paragraph’ written on whichever WIP is open. She is also a serious doodler and chocoholic. Writing has been her one true love ever since she could spell, and publishing is the final culmination of her hard work and ambition.Her publishing career began with two novellas, and she currently has multiple projects under way whilst Honour, a compilation of her own military based shorts, was released in November 2013 and her short novel, The One That Got Away was released February 2015. Always having something on the go can often lead to block which eventually gets dissolved by good music and an even better book.
Her main reason for writing is to not only give her readers enjoyment, but also to create a story and characters that stay with readers long after the book is finished, and possibly make someone stop and think “what if…”