The uncle felt old. One can build a lasting enterprise and still be useless by a certain age. All he did was sign the odd contract and appear at parties no one wanted to attend. He wondered if he was a boogeyman to everyone at work, or an invisible one, just a glorified chess piece for investors. He was baffled by semi-retirement emasculating a man like him.
Still, all things considered, working from home was preferable. He just wished for a little more action in what was left of his career.
The phone rang. It was one of his secretaries.
“Sorry to bother you, sir.”
“Oh, it’s no problem!” said the uncle. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, sir. It’s your nephew. Cuchulainn. He’s at the front desk.”
“Did you tell him I’m at home?”
“I did, sir. He wants you to know the dog is ok.”
The uncle smiled. “Oh, yes. He gets very precious about her. Tell him thank you. Sorry about that!”
“Yes, it’s just -” the secretary paused. “Well, he’s looking a little windswept, sir.”
“He always looks that way. Not to worry!” The uncle hung up. For a moment there he was excited they might ask him in for something. He wondered when Cuchulainn had taken Sugar out. He was glad he was taking more responsibility with her. The kid was growing.
The phone rang.
“It’s me, again, sir,’ said the secretary.
“Oh!” the uncle laughed. “How can I help you?”
“It’s Cuchulainn, sir. He needs a ride home.”
“He knows the car is at the shop. I can’t.”
“I’ll remind him, sir. Sorry.”
“No problem.” The uncle sighed. This was his life now, he guessed. “Have a good -”
“He says he took the car back, sir.”
Took it back? The uncle shuddered. Coming from Cuchulainn, that language was very precise.
“Yes, ok!” he said. “Just tell him to walk Sugar home. She’ll like it. Please don’t let him back in the car. I’ll be round shortly to -”
“He says something is wrong with the car, sir.”
“That’s why it was at the shop!” The uncle hung up and thought to take a deep breath before he let the situation register. It was still in his lungs when the secretary called again.
“There’s a fire, sir.”
“Well, then get out of there!”
“The fire is outside, sir.”
“Then call the fire department. What do you want me to say?”
“It’s your car, sir.”
“It’s -” the uncle took another breath. “It’s my car. Has it been on fire all this time?”
“I think so, yes.”
“Right.”
“Question.”
“Yes?”
“Well, we’ve called the fire department, sir, but,” the secretary lowered to a whisper, “should we call the police as well?”
“I don’t know!”
“Cuchulainn actually has a question, too.”
“Oh, for god’s sake.”
“Yes, he asks, sir, if you knew that the car was so, um, combustible?”
“Of course I did!”
He hung up. Should they call the police, they ask! He was more concerned with calling his lawyer. How was he ever going to explain this without implicating Cuchulainn? Maybe he would just refuse to bail him out this time.
The phone rang.
“What?”
“I have your lawyer on the phone,” said the secretary.
That’s a bit spooky, the uncle thought. “Well, what does he want?”
“Cuchulainn has pressed charges, sir.”