The Drip, a novel by Michael Gullo
“Happy Anniversary!”
“Who was it?”
“Pardon?”
“Which of these big mouths told you it was our anniversary?”
“Now, Michael the embarrassing cake scene is a birthday thing.”
“I know that, Karen, but I see the twinkle in Tommy’s eye too.”
“Allergies.”
“You seem like a lovely lady. Did that delinquent over there talk you into anything untoward?”
“No, he’s a perfect gentleman.”
“What’s untoward?”
“Tommy, don’t play Cody with me.”
“Now, that’s uncalled for.”
“What’s your name?”
“Caroline.”
“Caroline, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Did they give you a whole team for these ya-hoos, or are you on your own?”
“I can handle him.”
“He’s the easy one. I saw the look this little one over here gave you. She’s the worst of the bunch. I assume that was like a cake or something to be delivered as the festivities close.”
“It’s just a cake, Michael.”
“I know, Punkin, and I love your cake, and I love the thought, Stef and I couldn’t have better examples of love and chicanery than you and Tommy if we ordered them on Amazon.”
“You people are the sweetest!”
“Meathead here brings out our best.”
“And we bring Tommy out to make us look better.”
“It’s working.”
“Let me introduce you to the rest of the gang. The guest of honor here is Stefanie.”
“Hello, Stefanie. Congratulations.”
“Hi Caroline. Has the award committee showed yet?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Oh, not yet? I was sure today was the day they’d unveil my tin statue. Ten years of this guy.”
“Ten years! I’d have thought you were together as grade school sweethearts.”
“I was twenty-four when she graduated grade school.”
“That took a turn, didn’t it, Meathead?”
“These two are the next in line to the throne, Jenny’s kids, Sidney and FD. Which one of those is yours, again Jen?”
“Mine’s the girl, Mikey. She brought us FD.”
“Hard to tell the difference sometimes.”
“Sidney, Jen, FD, Got it. Nice to meet you.”
“And this dude. He’s Nathan.”
“Hi Nathan.”
“Hi Caroline. It’s Ethan.”
“Oh, Ethan. Hi Ethan. Why do you call him Nathan?”
“It’s the red Crocs.”
“When did you assemble this table set? I’ve been in here a lot of times, and I’ve never seen it rearranged like this?”
“We put together the three four-tops for your reservation.”
“I like it. Do we get an advertising discount for being your front window display?”
“It was either this or stick you in the corner – I’m starting to reconsider the choice.”
“Do we get a vote where you take him?”
“Ethan. Normally the quiet one.”
“Gotcha there, though.”
“Can I get you clowns a drink – no alcohol for you – you went to all that work, and you didn’t give me your name.”
“I told you, it’s Meathead.”
“Like the man said, Meathead. Nice to meet you again, Caroline.”
“Drink, Stefanie?”
“Sweet tea, please.”
“Meathead?”
“Coke.”
“Jenny?”
“Sweet tea.”
“Karen?”
“Sweet tea.”
“Twinkles?”
“Oh, you’re good at this. Tell her Twinkles. Whatcha gonna have?”
“I’ll have a Coke with Meathead. Make mine with lemon please.”
“Ethan?”
“Sweet tea, please.”
“And you two lovebirds? Wanna share a drink? I could bring two straws.”
“Michael move over. We have an eighth seat, sister. Get in here.”
“I can’t do that - Guys?”
“Sweet tea – Sweet tea.”
“I’ll go get the drinks. Anything else?”
“No thank you.”
“Are these real?”
“It’s Season’s, so we get fresh flowers.”
“They’re so pretty.”
“Thank you, Karen. I’ll be right back with the flowers – drinks.”
“We have Daffodils coming up everywhere at the Drip.”
“They’re called Daffydils, Meathead.”
“Oh, Tommy stop with all that.”
“Well, Karen, if he’s gonna move to the county, he needs a learn the language.”
“That explains it though, Stef. Look at the bulb. That one is sistered, and that’s why the flowers along the stair slabs look so straight down the middle and puddled all around it. They’re so old they went feral.”
“Planted in straight lines, but grown wild over generations.”
“Oh, drinks. That’s the most beautiful place setting, Caroline. Thank you. Can you find out where they got these?”
“That’s easy, Jenny. Sherry grew them. Do you see the little garden back there – through the back?”
“Oh, she grows them there?”
“Sort of. She grows most of the live table settings, and when it’s warm, she stages them out on the patio.”
“Well, these are gorgeous.”
“She says they’re her favorites. They represent everything, she says – Hey Sherry come over here.”
“These are ---”
“The Cotters.”
“Michael and Stefanie Cotter and their family. Michael and Stefanie are on their tenth anniversary.”
“Actually, these are the Cotters, and ten is nothing – these namesakes have been married fifty years.”
“Oh, thank you, Stefanie. I’m Sherry. Have you all ever been in before?”
“We’ve all been in many time, food’s delicious, Ma’am.”
“That one’s Tommy. Don’t let the manners fool you.”
“Now, Caroline. And we was callin’ you sister.”
“Caroline tells me you grow these yourself.”
“I do. Year round. They’re my favorite flower on earth. And Michael’s right, that bulb is sistered as he called it. As they get older they divide, and they spread, and no animal will eat it, so they go on forever and ever spreading out slowly.”
“Why won’t animals eat it?”
“It’s not native. And I misspoke a little. Animals eat it very rarely, but the Lycorine is on every part.”
“Did you say Lycopine?”
“No, Michael. That’s tomatoes. Lycorine is a poison that the Daffodil produces to make it unpalatable. It doesn’t kill, but it will leave an unsuspecting dog vomiting and quite unhappy in minutes. The most beautiful part to me is that it seems to do everything in its power not to get eaten at all. There are these little sharp parts that make it difficult to even chew or lick.”
“So they can’t hurt a dog?”
“No, Stefanie. You have a dog don’t you?”
“Clover, a Golden Doodle.”
“Clover is safe. These flowers just want to live for generation after generation. Tulips would be gone in ten years or less if left wild. Daffodils live on forever and ever, growing outward slowly, like family that never dies. Every new season they spend their starch, and they bloom before anything else can compete. They bring joy and hope and happiness to my Winter-weary soul every February.”
“Well, they’re gorgeous. I can tell that you love them.”
“Thank you –”
“Karen.”
“Thank you, Karen. Every couple of years I have to split the bulbs. This one is its first year daughtering, so it’s like a young lady. I have some that split every year, and I would be so happy to give you a couple for your anniversary and some for you and Tommy too. Would you like one?”
“Jen. Thank you. I would be honored.”
“Greg, there is a family out in the bar. Will you please run me over ten of the potted daffodils?”
“You found someone already?”
“Well, yes, of course. They’re daffodils; they give themselves away.”
“All ten?”
“Yes, please.”
“They’ll fit in the Bell Pepper box. Is that good enough?”
“Let’s see them in there – make sure you wipe it down really well first.”
“Remember, that one river stone – you thought that was too small. Do you want me to go in the garden and replace it?”
“Absolutely, please. A grey one.”
“Why these people?”
“It just seemed right – a matrilineal family, daughters all close to mamas, the bunching rule – one lone daffodil is bad luck, but mama bulbs with their babies attached, it just fits the table.”
“Are you going to do it?”
“I’ll try.”
“Which one?”
“The funny old one. He’s just the guy to sit there with pollen on his nose.”
“Twinkles.”
“That’s the one.”
“Did they order their meal yet?”
“I think Caroline is taking it now.”
“Any bets?”
“It’s a good menu. Spring’s the best.”
“Caroline’s good. And she loved the Barramundi. I bet she sells at least one.”
“I bet filets and chickens.”
“Did you see those filets this morning? They’re gorgeous.”
“Either way, stay on it. Daffodils have a memory.”
“Check, perfect dinner – nothing to remember but the lifetime of flowers.”
“So what all’s up at the Drip?”
“It’s been the busiest two weeks yet. The guys are clicking, the machines are turning hours, and the roads are connected.”
“I can’t wait to see it tomorrow.”
“Lunch at Mama’s house tomorrow.”
“Yup, maybe we can sucker the peeps into a visit.”
“What’s for lunch?”
“Brenda’s getting Olive Garden soup and Janice got cold cuts. I’ll make macaroni salad. You know – a table full.”
“Like always. I knew I was onto something when I picked this family. I had my options, you know.”
“Yes, honey. I know.”
“Sue Kiczinski cooks, Stefanie.”
“I’m sure she does. But no way she puts up with you from the age of fifteen to present.”
“Okay, that one don’t count. How about…”
“How about we forego the list this time.”
“FD, I hope you’re taking notes. This man is not the shining example on the hill.”
“He’s funny though.”
“So are two black eyes.”
“We don’t hit here, Sydney.”
“We do if you keep that up.”
“See? That’s what I mean. Don’t get sucked in, FD. You’re a sweet man.”
“The boy said I’m funny, Stefanie.”
“Not funny.”
“Más gracioso que ella.”
“Más chistoso, sí.”
“Pero, ella tiene razón. No intentes esta mierda sin red. Requiere práctica.”
“Por supuesto.”
“Hey, pendejos. English.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Was they a answer to my question in there?”
“I’m sorry, Tommy. So, the last two weeks…”
“Mudslide to this moment, Meathead.”
“You do know that Michael is an M alliterative too, don’t you?”
“Mmmhm.”
“FD, why don’t you get this kinda flack?”
“I don’t have a big mouth.”
“Take that.”
“Took.”
“Now, give.”
“Do you want the whole machine recovery scenario?”
“No, we get all those on the speaker phone.”
“She..? You’re supposed to tell me not to cuss.”
“More fun this way.”
“Why have a secret code if it’s party line anyway?”
“Lull you into a false sense of confidence.”
“Is everything on Op?”
“Not everything, but you’re slippery.”
“You ain’t right.”
“What’s-up-at-the-drip?”
“Machine’s out, working, road all the way connected. Mushy because it’s cut from the forest floor, and the gravel has to set down.”
“Lotta springs up there.”
“Rain’s the problem right now.”
“Find the springs when the rain comes. Gotta find those lest you put the seat in a big spring.”
“I hadn’t thought of the rain to find them.”
“Experience.”
“Wisdom, brother. Next on the list, rain time spring hunts.”
“It’ll save ya.”
“We cut the trees out of the rough seat, and I laid out ribbons.”
“Why not chalk paint?”
“At first I was just testing, figuring. Stef was arranging the front door.”
“If we used spray paint, all we’d have is a big orange splotch.”
“Big Orange ain’t the worst thing move in early.”
“Bulldogs, Tommy.”
“Don’t look at me, Tommy. You’re the one raised her.”
“I’ll never know how you a Bulldog fan, house full of Tennessee pride.”
“I’m on the GC hunt again this week too.”
“Ready for that?”
“Ready enough to meet and greet.”
“That one fella got a point. Hard time find someone let you dig the hole.”
“A hole this size, more than two hundred feet long, hundred feet down the hill. Quick run of the rotary laser calls it eighteen feet down at the highest, taper to zero at the low, but the long line is never less than a four foot wall. Buddy. We got dirt to move, and I ain’t paying freight for that.”
“Why’s a two-bedroom hole so big?”
“It’s the hillside, plus we gotta level down the entire length of the hill to get the car in the back-loaded garage.”
“How big’s the house seat?”
“The foundation is sixty five by thirty five.”
“How many square feet?”
“Two thousand.”
“With the basement?”
“Four thousand with that, but it’s not finished. It’s a walk-out, but not finished.”
“Just walk through from the car to the stair?”
“More or less. The most-uphill portion of the foundation is a fifteen by twenty-seven block – under the master closet and bath – that’s where the solar mechanical room goes.”
“Are you doing another bunker?”
“Absolutely.”
“No way you find a contractor happens build bunkers too.”
“It’s not a bunker, really. It’s just…”
“Say it, Michael. See how ridiculous you sound.”
“It’s not ridiculous, Stef. It’s complicated.”
“Ridiculous.”
“The mainest main reason for the bunker effect is that it needs to have a concrete roof because of the batteries.”
“Why, Michael?”
“Easy, honey. It needs to be concrete because there is some potential that the batteries could catch fire.”
“Catch fire, Michael.”
“Stefanie, if you want to leave our anniversary dinner and head up to the Drip and plan out placement of the ten power poles and the required fifty-foot-wide swath, nearly one thousand five hundred feet long from the road to the house, then I’m happy to spray the chalk paint for you. It’s all rock.”
“There must be another way.”
“That’s a fact, but they’re all ways with a cost or a delay or worst a court attached. We have an easement across eight-hundred and fifty feet of the neighbor’s land. We don’t know the man, and he’s not answering his phone. Now that doesn’t mean we can’t just exercise our rights and cut down nearly forty-five-thousand square feet of his trees – that’s more than an acre of his total six acres – to put in our power, but that’s not how the easement reads. It reads fourteen-feet from center of a delineated line, that’s only twenty eight feet of easement.”
“Anniversary dinner, Michael.”
“I’m sorry, Karen. You’re right. We can’t bore it. Neither one of us wants the clear cut. It’s solar. And the only solution for solar is a concrete roof, which ironically is the cheapest too.”
“Sounds reasonable to me. Good luck with the GC though.”
“I think we’ll need to build the bunker roof too.”
“Food’s here. Quit that.”