The Big Booty Call - part two

I had never seen Fat Kathy with the lights on.

She would be sitting on the couch with my dad and the only light in the room was the pale blue-ish light coming from the television.

I can't believe it has taken me 35 years to figure out that she was a booty call (or maybe he was the booty call).

How fucking stupid am I?

I would be coming home from either working or going to see a movie and her perfume would hit me as I walked in the door.

She would say "Hi" and I would grunt back. I would always quickly make my way to the safety of my bedroom before my dad would try to be cool with me, only to embarrass me in front of Fat Kathy.

She would call too.

In the days before caller ID, I was my dad's personal screener.

"If it's Fat Kathy, tell her I'm not here," he would tell me sometimes (yes...he called her Fat Kathy too).

There was never any rhyme or reason as to when Fat Kathy would appear and I guess that's really how a booty call works.

You only let them come over when you want some.

And now I'm left with Fat Kathy's phone number.

I don't know why but I need to call her.

It turns out the phone number is a work extension.

The voice mail begins.

It's going to ask me to leave a message.

Shit. What do I say? What do I say?

BEEEEEEEEEEEEP

"Hi....ummm.....My name is VW. I'm not sure if I have the correct number or person but I think you knew my dad.

Ummm...I found your number is his belongings because we've been cleaning things out.

You see, he passed away a few weeks ago.....I'm sorry you are finding out this way....If this is who I think it is, I thought you'd want to know."

"If you want to contact me, please email me and I'll call you back."

I hung up the phone wondering if she would respond.

It would be five days before I would hear back from Fat Kathy.

VW