Honk! Honk! My dad was outside in the car waiting for me to come out. I have to say, Mrs. Louise sure knows how to kill time. I was sure Alan was going to come out from his room sometime but I never saw him. "Probably working on some homework," Mrs. Louise answered me when I asked. "Thanks for everything! Good-bye!" I called out. She smiled and waved at me before closing the door. It was breezy out, a lot colder than before when I was walking and sitting at the park. Good thing Alan was called out to find me or else I probably would've had hypothermia. "How was your stay?" my father asked. There were purplish-bags under his eyes. Insomnia. "Enjoyable. Who knew they had an arcade?" I exclaimed. My father looked at me funny. "What about you?" I cleared my throat, trying to calm down. "Work." He didn't say anything else afterwards. As soon as we arrived home, I zipped upstairs, my inspiration flowing from my pencil. I drew three more themes and stopped there. I skipped onto my living room completing maybe a gazillion other themes. My living room had to be so plain. Then that's when it hit me, I'll start re-decorating my house to show my father and maybe my grandfather that I was actually really good at this job instead of some lousy technician, office-person. I made a complete list of everything I would need to re-decorate. I decided to work on my father's office...
~~
Today, Jessica had a day-off, so she took the time to go visit her family. My father was home this time except his nose was in a huge pile of paperwork. "This is why I don't want this job," I inferred. "This is why you need to help the business. We're very successful," he said matter-of-factly. "Whatevs." I rolled my eyes. "I need you to drive me around today," I continued. My father pointed to his pile of paperwork, making it look obvious. He shook his head. "Just to Ikea then." I could always walk around the shopping district to Pier 1 Imports or Ashley's. "To Deerfoot Meadows then?" Did he read my mind? "Yes," I answered, smiling sweetly. "You're too spoiled." I giggled. "Who do you think spoils me?" I asked jokingly. "That's why I should stop." He glared at me. "No, you love me." That was the end of our conversation. My dad was a man of few words. He didn't like talking a lot and before, he told me that he used to be anti-social. I was the complete opposite. I loved talking and meeting new people. This reminded me of my mother and so I looked out the road instead.
~~
"Here we are." My father dropped me off in front of Ikea. It would look weird having a young teenage girl shop alone by herself at this place but I loved going through and looking at the showrooms. I slung the Ikea plastic bag around my arm like a purse. Someone out front was handing out flyers. I read the bold lettering: 'Want to be a Home Designer?' I couldn't believe this. I flipped the brochure page. This was exactly what I needed to prove to my father and grandfather that I didn't need to take over the business, that I have a talent that shouldn't be wasted. I didn't need to worry about marrying now. I still had five years before I could marry anyone. I dashed up the tall staircase, and passed the food court. My stomach growled but I ignored it. I could grab a hot dog later. I skipped past the living room showrooms to the office showrooms. I did some mental research last night when I studied his office. The key was organization and he didn't have that. I also inferred personal interests of my father's onto the list. He liked the colours navy blue, red, black and silver. He liked stripes, but not plaid; comfy seats with simple designs; mats with more of an abstract design; and he liked modern-- of course. First the table. His was old and worn out and dirty. I spotted a v-shape desk that was functional for both a computer and a work area. Maybe something bigger... I ran toward another one that was silver. Perfect...
~~
I was browsing through the catalouge-- the store's copy, looking at the new designs for chairs. Maybe a swivel chair... Did they have massage chairs? I sneaked my father's credit card from his wallet this morning. He didn't usually mind and especially since this was for him, I don't think he would care, maybe he'd be glad. I walked with my nose in the catalouge, not really looking to where I was going. "Oh!" I nearly bumped into someone. I looked up at the person. "Alan?" I asked, surprised. He groaned. I raised my eyebrow, confused by his gesture. "H-hi..." he stammered. "Okay then... Hello." I greeted him cheerfully. I don't think he would tell me whatever was wrong... or would he? "What's wrong?' I asked straight out. I was getting slightly annoyed by the half-meanings. "Nothing..." he rubbed his fingers on his temples. Then I found out his stress... "ALAN!" Some girl screamed. I laughed at him as I spotted a bleach blonde tiny girl come rushing over. She was wearing denim short-shorts and a bright pink spaghetti strap tank top. She looked like she had plastic surgery or botox cosmetics. I burst out laughing then when she wrapped her noodle-like arms around his neck. He looked ticked off. Probably pissed at me and her. I was sure I would burst my laugh box when she asked in nasal voice, "who's she?" She pointed to me with her toothpick-index finger, acting like I was some bug. I would stop her before she could squish me. "Alan's acquaintance," I answered, teasingly, holding out my hand. "Ac-quaint-ance?" she pronounced. "You're foreign?" I couldn't stop myself. It was hilarious. Alan then couldn't take it. He looked like a teapot, ready to burst. He stomped away quickly, dashing down to the lower floor. The blonde girl cocked her head to the right, put her arms up as if saying 'I don't know' and ran after Alan. What an IDIOT. I wonder if Alan and the blonde girl were dating. They obviously don't match-- at ALL. I continued my shopping but by the end of the day, I felt guilty. Sometime tomorrow, I'll go visit him and apologize and pry him up for some answers. For now, I had a project to complete. The flyer that I was trying to hold on slipped from my hand into the soggy garbage can. I didn't notice until I threw away my dirty napkin from my hot dog. "Whoops..." I was pretty sure the flyer-boy wasn't there now.
-- Oh, I love making Alan a fool... xD --