relationships – SaaS Onboarding Storyteller

Oh Where, Oh Where Has Hancho’s Father Gone?

The departure of Hancho’s father proved more challenging than Bella expected. She thought Hancho would be happier. More open to love-making. But no. He just sat there, clutching his father’s forgotten item: a jar of whipped tallow cream.

Hancho would unscrew the lid, take a whiff of the gorgeous vanilla bean scent, then close it as Bella came closer.

“Why don’t you put some on,” she advised.

“No. He left in a hurry. He’ll come back for it,” Hancho mumbled.

This went on for weeks. No sign of Hancho’s father. The man never had his cell phone on. It was only for emergencies.

“But what about emotional emergencies?” Hancho screamed, nearly smashing the whipped tallow jar to pieces.

“Calm yourself,” Bella said. “Put down the jar and let’s take a nap in the bedroom.”

For the first time (and last), Hancho took her advice. They lay side by side. Her leg draped over his. She caressed his fingers, then his heart, as he sobbed uncontrollably.

Above is an affiliate link (where I might make a few coins) to the most delicious-smelling, grass-fed beef tallow that’ll make you look and feel ten years younger. Too bad Hancho’s father never remembered to retrieve his jar. At least it’s in capable hands now… err, mine.

Hancho, Part Three

While Bella and Daphne got lost in the frog figurine, night after night, day after day, Hancho had a small awakening. Having his father crash out on the couch had been boring. The man was either munching junk on the sofa or running out to the bodega for a quick 2,000-calorie snack.

It was time to spice things up. Literally.

There was a park several blocks from the apartment with a barbecue grill. Hancho picked up a pound and a half of steak, tossed that in a cooler along with some ice, plastic plates, two steak knives, two forks, bottles of water, several 8-ounce cans of tomato juice, a few lemons, vodka, and a container of this instant Bloody Mary mix (not an affiliate link. Just shouting out a friend’s killer product.)

“Where are you taking me?” his father whined the whole way to the park.

“Don’t worry, pops,” Hancho reassured his father. Hancho knew that each time he told his pops not to worry, it only increased the man’s anxiety.

Finally, at the park, Hancho’s father acted like he’d never seen a place like this. Benches, trees, basketball courts, and several rusted-out public barbeque grills. The man couldn’t get comfortable until Hancho served the Bloody Mary.

“This is kinda nice,” his old man said. “Too bad Bella couldn’t join us.”

“Let’s not talk about her right now,” Hancho said, then took a big gulp of Bloody Mary.

They stayed at the park until the police kicked them out. By then, the two men could barely walk straight. The police officer was kind enough to drive them home. He walked them up to the apartment and handed the two drunkards off to Bella.

Hancho awoke with the most god awful hangover. He had a memory of fighting with Bella, or was that his father? Bella blinked open her eyes. She leaned in to kiss Hancho.

Minutes later, Hancho had a letter in his hands. In his father’s terrible chicken scratch handwriting, he was able to make out the following:

Hancho, it was only a matter of time before it cracked between us. Thank you for the stay. I appreciated the food and the drinks yesterday. I’m out of your hair as you requested. Until next time…or not. Love, Pops

Bella, Part Three

For three solid weeks, Bella and Hancho hobbled around his apartment in silence.

They moved like mute pantomimes, directionless and bruised by something neither would name.

Hancho’s time at the gym doubled, denying Bella the chance to watch the veins bulge in his arms during a bicep curl. So she stayed home, staring out the window, eating beans out of a can.

On the street were happy couples, arm in arm. Some walked dogs. Others pushed baby strollers.

“Will I ever get there with Hancho?” she asked herself.

Before she had a chance to answer, he came bursting through the door with a box.

“This is for you,” he said, sliding it her way. The side of it grazed her left calf.

Inside was a leather briefcase.

What the hell was Bella supposed to do with this?

“It’s very nice,” Bella told him. “But… what’s it for?”

“What’s it for?” Hancho’s face turned red. A bead of sweat formed on his forehead. “You’re gonna go to work.”

Then came the expletives. Then the mumbling. Something about how ungrateful she was.

Back in Wisconsin, Bella’s only job was at Dairy Queen. She started in high school and worked there until several days before she left for New York. If she showed up to Dairy Queen with a leather briefcase, everyone would’ve laughed. The manager might’ve pulled her aside and asked if she intended to move up in the company.

As she stared at the briefcase — tilted sideways in its cardboard cradle — Hancho told her to use her time wisely. He gave her two days to find a decent office job.

“And what if I can’t?” Bella asked.

“You don’t want to know,” Hancho replied, gym bag in hand.

He slammed the door behind him. Its vibration sent a chill down her back.

In next week’s post, Hancho’s abusive energy is put on hold while Bella navigates joy in unexpected places.

Oh, and if that briefcase link above gave you a tingle of “maybe I need that,” just know it’s an affiliate link.

If you grab one, I might make a few coins — not enough for a mansion, but maybe enough for Bella to upgrade to a can of organic beans.