It's All My Fault

*This is the preliminary draft of something I'd like to probably proofread and add to a larger work at some point*

My father and I went to my grandmother's house to stay with my aunt who has autism. Really, she did just fine, though my father and I became remarkably sleepy during the course of the stay. The reason we were there was that my grandmother had a routine mammogram scheduled for today. As she is a breast cancer survivor, these checkups are extremely important.

Anyway, that's the background. So at some point my father and I were both conscious again after we'd each had our turn at napping during the afternoon. Seems as though when one was awake the other was asleep. Anyway, Dad asks me if I want cornbread for supper tonight (to go with some leftover butter beans). I reply that I'd prefer corn muffins. After a short discussion as to whether or not we had corn muffin mix, he came to the conclusion that I should call my grandmother (who had planned to stop at the store after the mammogram) and ask her to pick up a pouch or two of the mix.

I dialed the number.

(indistinct rattling and muffled electronic voices)
"Just a minute. Let me get my Bluetooth in."
(more of the same)
"There we are. Just a minute, honey. Let me pay her and then I can talk to you."
"Oh, you're checking out? Well, nevermind then."
"No, what? Did you need something? I can go back..."
"No, seriously, if you're in line, and paying, don't worry about it. It's really no big deal."
(checker in background) "I can hold your stuff if you need to go back and get something."

This continued for about 10 more minutes, ad nauseum. Finally, my grandmother insisted that she had already left her things with the checker and demanded to know what it was I wanted. Holding my hand over the receiver, I asked my dad, "Should I tell her?"

"Yes" he hissed, as he'd been telling me lo these 10 minutes that I should tell her to forget about it, not worrry about it, it's not a big deal, etc.

Confused and irritated, I replied, "Um, corn muffin mix."

My father scowled, thinking I meant should I tell her to forget about it.

"Like the kind that you make corn casserole with?" my grandmother asked.

"I don't know... the kind you make corn muffins with," I stupidly replied.

My grandma was mumbling something and my dad was growling something, and I really didn't catch what anyone said, but in the extreme drama of the situation, I figured I was bound to get in trouble with someone. Maybe both of them.

Turns out, my dad wasn't mad at me, but was rather horrified that my grandmother, in an extreme attempt at goodwill, would waste so much time (and possibly create an offensively long line at the store) over some blooming corn muffin mix. I was equally horrified, but as I was also still sleepy, I just wanted to get the thing over with. Becoming a hair grouchy, I mumbled, "This was a bad idea. I shouldn't have called. I've messed everything up." I really wasn't looking for sympathy, but I felt that I'd created quite a stir over something as simple as corn muffin mix.

Grandma, who is usually almost as deaf as I am, actually heard that. "No, you're not in trouble honey. I'm here. Now, how many do you want?"

This created yet another problem, as my father and I, both groggy and a bit moody from our nap/vigil shifts, neither one wanted any lousy corn muffins at this point. "Two" I blundered out. And it was as simple as that. Muffin mix was officially procured. Having survived the drama of the situation, my father and I were just calming down from the long-distance humiliation of the imaginary scene we inadvertantly created when his phone rang. Of course, it was my grandma. Seems she had locked her keys in the car. When Dad asked about spare keys, she told him that she'd locked them in the car, too.

I knew I shouldn't have asked for those lousy corn muffins! If I'd just agreed to cornbread, none of this would have happened.