Chapter two: phone calls

I am wakened the next morning at six o clock by a phone call. Usually the only people loony enough to call my rat shack that early in the morning are my mother and telemarketers. In complete honesty I was hoping for the latter. It was too early for her ranting; I hadn't even had my morning coffee yet. Not that I have coffee in the house (the rats took it) or a coffee maker for that matter (they took that too) but it was still it was to early for her  to be yelling at me.  

It was to early to hear her voice. I don't like talking to my mom early in the morning or late at night. The reason for this is an odd one, one that most people don't believe until they meet my mother. The reason is my mother sounds like Michel Jackson. It was even worse on the phone, so naturally I didn't like talking to her in the morning or at night.

After hearing the phone five times I picket it up. It was my mom. "Tristan, this is your mother." I sighed "Hi Mom, how are you?" she sighed "I'm fine dear, but I heard from a friend of mine that you got fired yesterday is that true?" How could she know? How could she possibly know? Was my mom secretly keeping tabs on me? My thoughts were interrupted by her voice. "Tristan is it true?" "Yes Mom it's true." I sighed the ranting was coming. My mom let out a huge breath. Could it possibly be from relief? No not even possible. "That's a relief," her words surprised me. What could be good about me getting fired? Once again my thoughts were interrupted by her voice. "Tristan this is wonderful now you don't have to quit." there were question marks around my head. I wanted to ask, what the hell do you mean quit? Instead I decided to edit that thought and said "Mom, what do you mean by that?" "Oh silly me, I haven't told you yet have I?" she said "tell me what?" said I "Well... yesterday I got a call from your uncle. Not you Uncle Jim, Uncle Waldo, or your Uncle Iroh.  This one is from your dad's side."

How could this be? How could this possibly be? When Dad died we lost all contact with his side of the family including my Grandmother. I repeated these thoughts to my mother. “Well,” she said “apparently this one wants to make contact with us again, mainly you Tristan.” This took me by surprise. Not only did a relative of my Dad make contact with my Mom but that relative wanted to make contact with me, me. This shocked me, stunned me in fact. I had to check had to make sure this was real, so I asked my Mom “Mom are you sure, I mean absolutely positive that this guy is for real?” “Yes.” My mom answered simply. I sighed my mom had always been naïve. “Mom, I live in New York and I know for a fact that this guy could have easily done his homework.”  I said sternly, my mom sighed “Tristan, Tristan are you listening? I know what I’m doing and I questioned him, he’s related to your father. And let me tell you something young man, just because you live in New York City means nothing, stop talking to me like you know everything, cause let me tell you something you don’t . Trust me you don’t” My mom hardly ever got this mad but when she did look out. “Tristan you want to know how I know he’s related to your Father.” I gave her what she asked for complete and total silence on my side of the phone letting her know that I was interested. Witch was very hard because right when she said that a rat scurried across my foot. UGH!! I hate those things. “Tristan he knew about the birth mark.”
This had to be wrong how could some guy just know about that birthmark? The birthmark that only me, mom, and dads side of the family knew about. The mark that dad told me that every man in his family inherited, but for every single man it was in a different spot. He wouldn’t show it to anyone not even me. I just knew he had it somewhere, hidden under his clothes. That mark had caused me trouble my entire life every single friend, boss, teacher, co worker, you name it thought it was a tattoo. This mark that caused me trouble, that got me fired a few times, was located on my left hip, and was in the shape of an oak leaf, with a pain drop on it.

I shook my head, I was daydreaming, and my partially insane mother was still on the phone. I had to check once again “Mom. Are you sure you got this right?” My head was racing part of me wanting her to say no, the other yes.”Yes.” said my Mom. Was I relived? I wasn’t sure. I needed to sit down, my head was spinning this was way too much to take in at once. “Tristan.” Said my mother “I know this is a lot to take in at once, but I want you to call him.” Oh sure mom call a complete stranger, who claims he’s related to my desist father. For all I know this guy could be some con-man, or even worse a psychopathic killer. “Tristan you’re going to need his number for this. Tristan are you listing?” I could only stay silent. My mother… the mother for my entire life told me not to talk to strangers wanted me to call one. “Tristan hears the number.”Then she rambled out some numbers that for some reason I wrote down. “Tristan calls that man right now.” She commanded me and hung up. I stared at the phone for five minuets, and then looked at the number. I’ll call him just to make her happy. Hopefully no one will answer.