"I need a phone number. And an address," I ask the girl behind the counter.

Someday, this place is going to be a Starbucks, but on this afternoon, in 1986, it's a Take It Home video rental place.

I can barely believe my eyes. People are paying good money to rent VHS movies.

The clerk looks me up and down, shaking her head slightly. There's a sign on the counter that says:

Be Kind. Rewind.

Rewind Fee - $1.00

Classy.

"There's a pay-phone," the clerk suggested listlessly, gesturing across the street. "We don't have a public phone."

I nod my thanks and turn to leave.

And then I stand rooted to the spot, because I've just spotted someone familiar.

He's my age, carrying a black backpack, as well as a couple of rented movies, which he sets onto the counter.

He glances over at me.

As soon as we make eye-contact, I know for sure that it's my dad. He's dressed funny, and he has all his hair, and he's wearing loafers with no socks, dear god. But it's my dad.

"Do I know you?" he asks. Obviously he's wondering why I'm staring at him like this.

"Uh." This is a bad idea; I should leave. "We went to different schools together," I blurt.

I turn around to leave, for real this time, when the weird gets even weirder.

Another familiar face walks into the shop. It's my dad's boss! Tiffany was apparently rocking that resting bitch face even back in her high school days, but it's undeniably her. Manipulative shrew of a woman.

"You just can't seem to get away from her, can you?" I mutter. Dad hears me, and his head jerks up, giving me a confused look.

For the uninitiated, Tiffany is a truly terrible excuse for a human being. She's been making my dad's life miserable at work for years. She's taken credit for his ideas, and made him her scapegoat for any number of bad ideas that she's had. Office politics aren't really my jam, but over the years she's been pretty much directly responsible for my dad getting passed over for promotion, at least twice, and then there was that time Dad let her borrow the car.

Let's just say that our insurance rates have still not recovered.

Anyway, it's kind of disturbing to watch as Tiff corners my dad and is… what? Threatening him? Flirting with him? Some sick combination thereof?

"Sure, Tiff. I'll have it finished tomorrow, so you can turn it on Friday. Is that okay?"

"Ray. Are you stupid?" She gives him a withering look; obviously it's a rhetorical question. "I need it tonight. Christmas break is already over, why haven't you finished it before now?"

"Sure, no problem, Tiff. I'm sorry. I'll just go get finished with it right now."

Without so much as a goodbye or a thank you, she's swept right past the both of us, and she's on her merry way.

I can't help myself. I just have to say something.

"Why do you let her boss you around like that?" I ask. Ray looks at me, in surprise. "You know, no good is ever going to come of letting some power-tripped bitch treat you that way."

His eyes are wide, and he takes a few moments to respond, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times like a flopping fish.

"Oh, you know, Tiffany, she's okay," he hedges, looking at his shoes. "She's not a, uh… a powered trip, um. You know."

He's defending her. What a chump.

I give him an incredulous look.

"Seriously?" Is he totally in denial? "Da- I mean, Ray! You've got to grow a fucking spine, man!"

"Do I know you? How d'you know my name?" He looks at me suspiciously.

Whoops.

"Uh." I try to think of something plausible, but I'm coming up blank.

"Oh. You heard her say it?" he reasoned.

I nod, gratefully.

"Yep. Anyway, nice meeting you, Ray."

He jerks his head at me again, curtly, and heads out the door, swinging his backpack over his shoulder, carefully.

I wonder where he's headed. Home would be in the opposite direction; that's not where he's going. I hang back a little, and watch him, out of sheer curiosity.

I'm following Ray, and Ray's acting damned weird. What the hell is he up to?

A couple of blocks from Main, he darts into someone's side yard. I'm watching, fascinated, standing a few houses down, near some shrubs and a mailbox that looks familiar somehow.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Well, well, well. Mr. Passive-Aggressive.

This is so very Watney of him, I can't even believe my eyes, as I watch my future father remove a dozen hard-boiled eggs from his backpack and start tossing them, one by one, onto the roof of Tiffany's house. They rolled down and dropped into the rain gutters, which were choked with dead leaves.

A total dick move; that's going to smell terrible for weeks, if not months. And she'll never know where it's coming from.

I completely approve.

Possibly, me doubled-over laughing catches his attention as he's about to toss the last egg, and he tosses the carton down and makes a break for it, beating a hasty retreat back towards town.

I can't help it; I shoot a thumbs up to his retreating back, still laughing my ass off, as I scoop up the carton.

What the hell. No point in wasting.

I toss the last egg, and just as it leaves my hand, from the corner of my eye, I see someone, across the street. A girl.

Oops.

The girl, a pretty blonde, is giggling at me. Clearly not a fan of Tiffany's, either.

She's emptying the mailbox that I was just standing next to, a minute ago, and she calls to me, "Don't worry, I won't say anything." She laughs.

Wait. I know that laugh.

I cross the street; take a closer look at her. It's my mom, giving me a sort of approving, admiring smile.

Of course! This was my grandparent's house, wasn't it? Tiffany and my mom, Laura, were neighbors, growing up.

Funny, I never realized how pretty my mom used to be. As teenagers, there's no question that my mom throws Tiffany into the shade. Right at this moment she looks pretty fucking horrified, for some reason, though.

There's a squeaky, whining noise that joins up with the ringing in my ears.

When I get hit from behind by the car.