Amos

Singing oh oh ee-oh (2)

When my aunt dropped me off and handed to me two fives and a twenty, she smiled at me. “If your available the 8th, that would be wonderful.”

I accepted the money graciously and told her I was available. Only later when I looked at my calendar to mark the date down did I notice the 8th was more or less a month away.

With a flick of the wrist, I circled in black ink the little dated square.

I couldn’t help but lean back on my window seat and contemplate on Blair’s words though ridiculous it might sound.

3 years younger. 15 years old? The poor boy; I imagined what he would be like. Scrawny and with I high pitched voice. He would probably have remains and future sprouting of acne and the little tire track mustache of manliness in growth.

I gagged, laughing to myself. I was so full of shit, listening to Blair, believing that perhaps she even existed.

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I am a lazy student, halfway through the process of applying at the community college and a job, halfway vegetating in bed during mornings and being considered the assistant housewife at home. I help my mom balance out jobs like cooking, washing and shopping. It’s not bad, just a bit tedious.

My favorite part is washing plates. I remember watching family sitcoms and the worst chore always being the dishes. I honestly never understood what the problem was. It was possibly the most cleansing chore available.

I lather the metal woven sponge and begin the scrubbing on the utensils from the load that filled the sink. I’m careful with the sharp blades and I’m attuning to the sounds of the movie Accepted in the background of the living room.

I hear the front door opening and the jingling of keys and I look up at the kitchen clock, noticing it was time my brother would be returning from school.

I sigh, where did the day go?

I listen to the clutter of footsteps, dropping of backpacks before looking up and realizing he wasn’t alone.

Shit. That meant I’d have to help making snacks for my brother and his posse.

The bodies pass along the kitchen and I rummage through the fridge. “You guys gonna eat anything?”

My brother, sweating with his hair matted to his face breathes heavily and nods. “Can you make pasta? I’m starving.”

I rummage, looking for the pesto container. “And your friends?”

He spoke with them and like the head honcho he was, he came closer to respond. “Chris doesn’t want pesto, though.”

I sighed crouching to continue my search. “How about Bolognese with hot sauce and red pepper?” I recalled Chris’ particular liking to spicy food.

Chris loomed over my brother’s shoulder. “Freaking awesome!”

I chuckled. “Alright, what about your other buddy?”

“Oh… hey Glen, watcha want to eat?” My brother called out to the wandering friend in the background. All I heard was a mumble but my brother turned back to me. “He wants it like mine. Make a lot of pasta please!” and immediately ushered all of them away. And as I listened to the stomping on the stairs, I thought; my brother is three years younger.

Taking out heaping amounts of pasta to boil, I watched the stained glass design of the kitchen lamp shift.

His friends would be three years younger than me.

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Setting up the table, I called them down. They walked around it looking for a place to sit. I had finished serving my drink when I bumped into one of his friends.

I apologized and moved away, looking up at him.

It was the friend ‘Glen’.

He shook his head in embarrassment and moved along the wall to give me space to continue. I thanked him and headed to the table. Once all the refreshments were availed by my brother, we took turns serving the pasta. I received the bowl from Glen who happened to be sitting across from me. I took a moment to scan and analyze him.

Unlike Chris who was good looking with unruly brown curls and hazel eyes with fitting gamer clothing, Glen had a more attractive aura of character than anything else. His faded black hair uncut and swept away from his eyes, his nose long and curvy. He was taller while sitting than the back of the chair.

I was curious to hear his voice.

I paid careful attention to what my brother said and who responded. When Glen only responded one word answers, I was dissuaded and changed my thoughts to what I needed to do by tonight to see the new Iron Chef America.

“Oh, Marge, Chris and I are joining the badminton team!”

I paused my chewing to look up at my brother. Swallowing I turned to Chris, “Are you, now?”

Chris grinned at my brother. “Yeah, well, if Cedric hadn’t bugged me about it and offered to give me his dance mat half off, I wouldn’t be a setter.”

“Do you even know how to play?” I grinned at Chris.

“Nope, but Glen started today along with us, we’re gonna head out in a while to practice with the net and rackets Cedric said you guys had.”

I poured more shredded mozzarella into my bowl and gazed at Glen who caught my eyes with a friendly glance of his own. “So you play?”

His eyes drifted off in shyness and Chris spoke over whatever Glen was going to say.

“Yeah! The dude’s a freaking prodigy!”

“I’m not that good.” Glen muttered and I watched him play with his fork and pasta.

“How long have you been playing?” I prodded gently.

“He just moved, but he played as team captain in Canada!” Chris served himself more pasta, exclaiming excitedly.

“Will you shut up?” Glen and I hissed simultaneously at Chris, blinking at each other and looking away.

Chris and my brother Cedric barked with laughter.

I got up and dumped my plate and empty glass into the sink, heading upstairs to look for my brown belt sudoku book, almost missing Glen bitching at them in a lowered voice.

Music to mine ears.

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Cat Cora won yet again and with a beaming grin, prepped myself to go to bed.

I got under my covers, closing my eyes and fidgeting into my first stage of sleep.

I replayed stuff from today and what I wanted to do tomorrow.

Blair’s voice suddenly began to echo in my mind. The tea leaves imprinted into my mind.

I sat up, gasping and flopping out of my bed, skidding into the hallway, and galloping into my brother’s room. He was thankfully still on the computer.

I had correlated what Chris had said to what Blair had said a week ago.

----“He just moved, but he played as team captain in Canada!”----

----“He arrived yesterday noon….. He has traveled far to be where he is now!”----

“CEDRIC!” He fell off his computer chair, clutching unto the armrest.

“What the hell is your problem?? Put some goddamn clothes on!” He shielded his eyes from my nightgown, I crossed my arms to give my bosom some modesty and continued where I had left off.

“Ced, when did Glen move?”

He sighed heavily, his eyes captivated by a current fight on the screen. “I have no clue; get the fuck outta my room.”

“How old is he?”

His eyes turned to me, narrowed. “Out!”

I complied miserably reliving the two instances the phrases were saidfor the rest of the night.