Close the Door

“I don’t WANNA go! It’s too HOT!”

“The A.C. is on hunny, just give it a—” Peter glanced back to see Adelaide fanning herself frantically with the car door open. “—CLOSE THE DOOR!”

“But it’s HOT in here!”

“Well it can’t cool down if the DOOR is open! The air conditioning can’t cool the entire Earth! Come on Addy. You’re not 4 years old.”

“Seven.”

“That’s right. So—”

“Why does LAUUUURRRRAAAA get to stay home!?!?”

“Because she IS four! So she stays with mommy.”

“That’s stupid. Mommy and Laura get to be cold but WE have to be HOT. That’s not fair!”

“What do we always say about ‘fair’ hm?…. and seriously, close the door please.”

Adelaide narrowed her eyes, casting a sour, disapproving glare towards her father.

She very slowly pulled the door closed.

“Go.” She huffed.

“What do we say about ‘fair?’ ”

“What’s fair doesn’t always feel fair.”

Peter nodded to his daughter with an encouraging smile.

“Go.” She repeated.

The excruciatingly upbeat, and mostly nonsensical “hits” from a ‘Best Animated Movie Songs of 2025’ playlist was the backdrop to Peter’s sweaty 10-minute drive. The car had cooled down just enough to become comfortable by the time they reached the sprawling lot of Timmerson’s, which meant that, contrary to how she felt 10 minutes earlier, Adelaide was now ready to refuse to get out of the car.

“Okay Addy,” Peter began.

The family’s white, once-upon-a-time-sleek-looking-hatchback meandered slowly along as Peter looked for a spot. Its lethargic pace meant it wouldn’t be hard for other shoppers to spot the large scrape down the rear door (thanks to bicycle handlebars during ‘driveway practice’) and the “black eye” it was sporting (a cracked and taped-up, driver-side headlight) thanks to a basketball (belonging to the Mulligan twins next door!).

Peter cautiously guided the reliable little hybrid towards what looked like an open spot a few rows from the entrance.

“We will make this super fa——HEY WHAT THE FFFFFFriiiiiiendlyyyyyy giant…..” Peter choked out, slamming on the brakes. A clunky, maroon-coloured van had peeled into the lot and hurled itself into the spot Peter had been eyeing, just barely missing the nose of his car.

“HEY!” He shouted, leaning on the horn.

A woman got out of the passenger side and began to open the sliding door, waving to him with a somewhat embarrassed, if not slightly apologetic look on her face. Her husband emerged from the other side to shrug at Peter and wave him off.

“YA, THANKS BUDDY!”

“Can you believe that!?!” He murmured to himself. “What a piece of sh*t.— Whup! Sorry Addy. I shouldn’t talk like that. That just…. wasn’t a very fair, or nice way for that person to act.”

“Fair doesn’t always feel fair right?”

Peter laughed a little and answered, “You’re right. But that wasn’t fair AND it was dangerous, so there’s a difference. Sometimes life isn't fair to us. Sometimes what we get doesn’t feel fair, even though it is. And most of the time life finds a way of balancing itself out. But, sometimes… well, sometimes life needs a little bit of help…. because some people are pieces of sh*t.”

“And he was a piece of sh*t?”

“HEY!” The car jerked to a stop. Addy smirked at him from the back seat.

“Yes….”

“He was………”

“Don’t say that in front of your mother.”

After a few minutes of searching, Peter was grateful to find a spot reasonably close to the entrance. Anything that would help him, or Adelaide really, avoid more time in the heat was a bonus today.

“Okay. We will be SUPER FAST! I promise.”

“Mmmmm, YOU go. I will stay in the cold car.”

“Adelaide, I can’t leave the car running the whole time, and it’s dangerous for you to be out here alone.”

“NO! I’m STAYING!”

“Adelaide. Please.” Peter gritted his teeth and tried to speak calmly, even though his emotional thermometer was beginning to match the temperature outside of the car.

“I know it sucks that it’s so hot out, and I know this isn't a fun trip, but the faster we do this, the faster we can get home.”

Adelaide simply stuck her tongue out and responded with an emphatic “No!”

Errmmmm. How do I win this? ……… Make her feel important.

“Addy, I need you to help me. You need to remind me of what we are getting! I know that Mom wanted us to get some veggies and chicken for dinner since Auntie Brianna and Uncle Joss are bringing Terrance and Taylor for a visit tonight, buuuuuut was there anything else…..?”

“Yogurt!”

“Thank you! You see, you have such a good memory. You’re already helping!”

Peter grabbed the grocery bags from the passenger seat and walked around the car to open the door for his daughter.

“Do I get to CHOOSE everything?” she sneered.

Peter smiled.

“Yessss Addy. You get to do all the choosing, because you are the one doing the helping.”

Adelaide considered the offer, unbuckled her seatbelt, and slid out of the car. “Okay. Fast.”

“Ahhhhhhh!!! Nice and cold!” Adelaide made her pronouncement milliseconds after they had crossed the threshold of the store. “Why is our HOUSE not this cold?”

“Aaaaaallllllright then….” Peter snagged a carry-basket and dragged Adelaide along without answering, or even acknowledging the question.

The two of them whipped around the aisles as if they were contestants on a now-ancient game show from Peter's childhood named Supermarket Sweep, but as they headed toward the checkout lines, they passed through the 'seasonal display' area.

The Fates of Summer had aligned for Adelaide.

Her eyes lit up like stars going supernova.

Floaty toys. Water guns. Inflatable waterslides with crocodile faces and built-in sprinklers.

And standing on its own, the biggest prize of all.

One.

Single.

Solitary.

‘E-Z-Inflate Pool.’

Peter was so focused on determining which checkout line would allow them to make the quickest escape from the store that he hadn’t even noticed, until…..

“DADDY POOL! DADDY! POOL! WE CAN BE OUTSIDE AND SWIM AND BE COLD! DADDYYYYYY GET IIIIIIIIIT! IIIIIIIII heeeeeeelped. Daddyyyyyyyyy. Come ooooooooon.”

Adelaide cemented herself in place beside a large yellow banner with bubbly blue letters declaring ‘There is no better time than Swim Time!’

The lonely pool had a giant “40% OFF!” sticker plastered across its front.

“THERE IT IS! Good thing yer Dad saw this on the app when he’yus parkin’ the car! ‘One left,’ it said!”

The voice echoed in the back of Peter’s consciousness as he stared down at the box and contemplated the price-s he would have to pay for buying it.

The actual cost.

The potential ire of his partner.

The irritation of repeatedly setting it up and putting it away by himself.

As Peter continued to calculate his way to a final decision, a beefy man in a yellow-and-red-striped, stretched-to-its-limits polo shirt, bobbled towards the display. His three children shouted and pushed each other back and forth while their mother admonished them for “Acting like orangutans!” and threatening to leave “Without even buying a hose to spray you with, let alone a pool!”

Peter looked down at Adelaide. She’d very quickly transformed from an ‘attitude bomb’ into a cartoonishly bright-eyed, smiling, sweetheart.

He sighed and conceded defeat, thinking to himself, “I have no hope of ever saying ‘No’ to these girls… What am I going to do when they’re teenagers and sh*t gets REAL expensive….”

He set the carry-basket on top of the box and kneeled down beside his daughter.

“Okay Addy, you’ve got your pool.”

“YAAAAAYYYYYYY!!!” She latched on and squeezed him. “Fun! Fun! Fun! Cold! Cold! Cold! I am going to splash Lauuuraaaaa!”

“Mmmmm no splashing.”

She stuck up her nose at him.

“Alright. Maybe a little. IF Laura gets to splash too.”

She smiled and nodded emphatically.

Peter stood up again to find a large, stubby hand resting on the box beside his basket.

That shirt.

It was HIM.

Mr. Piece-of-sh*t from the parking lot.

He thinks he is going to get this pool?

No. Chance.

“Excuse me big guy!” The much larger man sprayed the condescending greeting into Peter’s face. “S’this yer basket here? I’ve gotta get this pool out ta my van.”

Peter glared at him. “Oh…. To be honest, I was actually going to bu—”

“Ahhhh sorry to burst yer bubble big fella. We reserved this pool a few minutes ago.”

“Reserved?”

“That’s right. I saw’er on the app while I was pullin’ into a spot out there and ordered it fer pick-up. S’why there’s only one left here… probably.”

“Wouldn’t they have yours over at Customer Service? I feel like—”

“Ahhh naht really interested ta be honest! This one here is good enough. Besides, th'app said there's only ONE left in the store. So I’m takin’ this one!”

“Okay, but, I mean, if they have yours set aside, that means I could buy this one…. Could you go check? I’ll wait here until you know.”

“DAD COME ON!” The oldest of the man’s kids, who looked essentially like a miniaturized version of the man himself, was growing, or had simply started out impatient.

“YA LET’S GOOOOOO!” The daughter, middle child it seemed, whined from behind her brother.

“Make this LOSER get out of the way, and GET. OUR. POOL!” The smallest one shouted, pushing through his siblings.

“DARIUS!” The mother called, hauling the child back by his shirt. “Don’t SAY THINGS like that in PUBLIC…. Especially ABOUT other people!” She turned to Peter, offering a much-more-embarrassed, “I’m so sorry about this” look than her earlier one.

“Sorry pal!” The husky man lifted the basket and handed it to Peter. “The tribe has spoken! You got a little one. You get it.”

Peter stood, stoically holding Adelaide’s hand, while the two of them watched the family haul the pool away.

“Come on Addy. Let’s go check with Customer Service.”

“I’m sorry, that was the last one we had.”

“Are there any other locations, or stores that might have one?”

“Mmmmm we are the only Timmerson’s in the area, and as for other retailers, I couldn’t tell you. I doubt it though. Most stores are doing everything they can to get rid of their summer stuff.”

“Right. Thank you. Can I pay for my groceries here? Instead of getting back in line….”

“Oh, absolutely. I can do that for you at least.”

Peter knelt beside his daughter as the service person scanned their items one-by-one above them.

“Look Addy. I…..”

“It’s okay Daddy. Fair doesn’t always feel fair.”

“No. I know that, but….”

Peter caught a glimpse of the family leaving the nearest checkout line with their new pool on a flat-cart. The big man gave him another shrug, while the youngest kid did a snooty little celebratory dance that felt like it was intentionally directed towards Adelaide and him. Luckily, she was facing him and didn’t see it.

“Sometimes people don’t deserve what they get.”

Was Peter actually following a faded, slightly erratically-driven old van around?

Nobody could prove that.

If he was though, why was he following it? What was he going to do?

This was something even Peter didn’t have an answer for.

His instinct…. His fury…. simply bade him, ‘Follow.’

The van pulled into a driveway like any other, and Mr. Piece-of-sh*t (the permanent name Peter had assigned him) began to gather the groceries from the back.

“MAKE SURE YOU CLOSE THE BACK DOOR! I’LL GET THE POOL LATER.” he shouted towards the kids pushing and shoving each other behind the van.

Quite fortunately for Peter, the mini-P-o-S’s paid very little attention to instructions. They all raced into the house, leaving the trunk of the van wide open.

Without even trying to develop a working plan, Peter peeled up to the end of the driveway, popped open the hatch of the car, and ran towards the van. He didn’t even bother to look around to see if any neighbours were watching, he just grabbed the top of the box, hurled it out of the van onto it’s side, and began to roll it, end-over-end, down the driveway to his car.

After managing to flip it up and into his trunk, he quickly realized that there was no way he could close the hatch. He would have needed to put Adelaide in the front and folded the rear seats down, but it was too late for that now! He simply jumped into the car and sped off with half of the pool sticking out of his trunk.

“Daddy you didn’t close the door! DADDY! THE BACK DOOR!!!”

“I KNOW ADDY! I KNOW!!!!”

Once Peter had accomplished his high-speed, very uncoordinated getaway, he slowed the car to a controlled pace in order to ensure the unsecured pool box stayed put.

“Daddy….” Adelaide started as Peter pulled into their garage and shut off the car, “You stole the pool. You are going to get in BIG trouble.”

Peter looked at her through the rearview.

“I am going to be fine hunny, I don’t think anyone saw me. And look…. I know that stealing is wrong. I just really want you and Laura to be happy, and I am willing to do anything to make sure that you are. So, sometimes I might do things that don’t seem right, or fair, but that doesn’t mean you should. I only do them to make sure life is fair to you two. Do you understand?”

“Mmmmmm…. Kind of. Okay.”

Peter sighed and rested his forehead on the steering wheel.

“Daddy….”

“Yes hunny.”

“Are you going to tell Mommy?”

“Yes, I’ll explain it to her later.”

“Okay. I am going to go inside and tell Laura about the pool!!!!”

“Alright. Tell Mommy I’ll bring the food inside in a few minutes.”

“'Kay….”

“…… Love You Daddy.”

“I love you too.”

After taking a few minutes to compose himself, Peter carried the groceries inside, collected Angela, and bought her out to the garage.

“Peter you…. I……… You have to take this back!”

“I CAN’T! That would cause more problems, and it would crush Addy and EL. Besides…. They didn’t see me. No one saw me.”

“I can’t believe you. What an IDIOTIC thing to do. AND with our DAUGHTER in the car watching you…. You put her in danger for this?”

“She wasn’t in danger.”

“Well depending on how you were DRIVING she might have been! Her sense of morality certainly is now.”

“I know Ange…. I’m sorry, I just….. the guy. This family. I just couldn’t let it go. I don’t know. You should have seen—”

“It doesn’t matter. This is absolutely NOT okay. But……. The pool is here. The girls are excited. There’s no point in arguing about what to do next, or what you should NOT have done.”

“Alright…. Ange……. I’m sorry.”

“Ugh. It’s fine. But NOTHING like this EVER AGAIN. And NOBODY finds out how we got this pool!”

“Absolutely.”

Peter dragged the box through the house to the kitchen. As he lined the box up with the sliding glass doors, he paused to watch his girls racing around the yard, joyfully debating about where the pool should go. Then, as he nudged the box towards the open door, he noticed it was just a little bit wider than the actual doorframe. Sure, he could unpack the thing in the kitchen, but that would cause a mess, and Angela was already on edge. Looking at it some more, he figured that if he maneuvered it just right he could likely squeeze it through the opening* and shove the entire box out into the backyard. Even if the corners or sides of the box got ripped or damaged, at least all of the debris, along with contents of the box, would spill into the yard.

“Peter,” Angela called from behind him, “that doesn’t look like it is going to fit. Maybe just wait and set it up later? Or take it out of the box first?”

He kept pushing. The box wasn’t moving.

Peter sat on the floor and began kicking the side of the box that had become lodged in the frame.

“Peter….” Angela cautioned, “I wouldn’t…. The doorway is too tigh—”

*KSSSHHHHHHHHHH*

The door had warped just enough to cause the glass to shatter.

It rained down over Peter, sitting with his feet pinned against the box.

The girls, startled by the blast, had stopped tracing out where the pool would go and stared at the carnage.

Angela had also jumped in surprise, sending a wine glass into the air. It hit the floor, adding what amounted to little more than a tiny *tink*, in comparison to the door, to the soundscape of destruction.

“WHY wouldn’t you have just taken it OUT OF THE BOX!?!?” She shouted from behind him.

“I didn’t want to make a mess in the kitchen….”

The devastating irony of his sad, barely audible response wasn’t lost on him.

“Well, I don’t know what you want to do now. Brianna and Joss will be here in an hour! I’ve got to finish prepping for dinner, you’ve got to clean up EVERY BIT of that glass so no one steps on any tonight, and it is SCORCHING hot out.... But we aren’t going to get any relief in here because we can’t even—”

“Close the door….”

Peter remained slouched over, staring quietly into the backyard for several minutes.

A shrine to the Fates, accentuated by sparkling shards of poetic justice.

“I can tarp off the doorway using the pool for now….” he whispered. “It should create a good enough barrier to keep the inside of the house cool for a day or two…. until we get a new door.”

Angela walked over to him, swiping some of the glass aside with her feet.

“And how much do you think that is going to cost us?”

He looked up at her with helplessly defeated, knowing eyes.

“Probably about the same amount that a brand new, full-price pool would.”

“Perfect.”