Characters: James, Cindy, Nicky, Nick’s Wife, Nick’s Daughter
Summary: Why don’t people just say what they mean?
Notes: This takes place in the future, hence the unnamed daughter of Nick and his unnamed wife. Who knows if this will actually happen, because I don’t know how long Cindy and James will stick around yet or who is and isn’t going to survive WWII, but it’s what I imagine might happen. So, not strictly canon, but could be. This was also the prompt that gave me the most trouble, and I’m not 100% thrilled with how it turned out.
Word Count: 389
The family was sitting in the living room after dinner, each involved in their own activities. James and Cindy were playing a game of chess. Nick was reading the paper, while his wife and daughter were sitting on the other sofa, chatting animatedly. It appeared the teenager was telling her mother all about her day at school. Nick was glad that she hadn’t yet gotten to the stage where she didn’t want to talk to her parents.
The conversations going on drifted into the background as Nick turned the pages of the newspaper, blending in with the sounds of Frank Simatra on the radio. When there was a pause in the music, Nick heard his daughter say.
“He’s almost got it all fixed up, Mom, and when he does he’s going to take me for a ride. I can’t wait to see the car when it’s finished. It will be so very cherry.”
“Huh?” James asked, looking up from his chess pieces. “What’s that you’re talking about?”
“A car that one of the boys at school has. He’s rebuilding it.”
“I got that. What did you say it would be?”
James shook his head. “What does that mean? Is he painting the car red?”
The teenager shook her head, and Nick saw her roll her eyes. “No, Grandpa. It means that it will be very excellent.”
“Huh,” James said. “That doesn’t make a lick of sense.”
“Well, Grandpa, what would you have said?”
“In my day,” James began, “We would have said it was the bee’s knees, wouldn’t we have, doll?”
“That we would have,” Cindy said, smiling as her eyes glazed over slightly, remembering.
The teenager snorted. “Bees don’t even have knees, Grandpa. Your expression doesn’t make any sense.”
“Well, neither does yours,” James retorted.
Nick chuckled softly from behind the paper. He flipped a corner of it down to look at his wife, and she was smiling at him. His father certainly had gotten grouchy in his old age, but he still had a soft spot when it came to his children and grandchildren. He was constantly picking at everything, and it amused Nick to no end. He knew that the day his father stopped picking at silly little things was the day he need to worry about taking over as head of the family.