I opened the door to the refrigerator, searching for something to drink, Hmmmm, nothing. I concluded, shutting the door.
I strolled into the living room and turned the TV on. Oooooh, LoveLine! I mentally exclaimed, and sat down to watch.
About fifteen minutes later, Adam asked, “Is one of his hands bigger than the other one? ‘Cause, then.....” I chuckled. That Adam, he’s just silly.
A few minutes later, Drew said, “She was young, caught in an abusive relationship, she didn’t know how to get out......”
“It wasn’t abusive!” Adam countered, “Was it?”
The girl shook her head, “It wasn’t abusive.”
I don’t like Drew. He assumes that relationships are abusive when they aren’t. And he sits like a woman. He just gives off bad vibes.
“Zac? What in the hell are you doing?” Caty asked. “Come to bed.”
“Can’t sleep.”
She walked over to me and started to massage my shoulders. “I think maybe......you should see a doctor.”
“What the hell?”
“I saw it on TV,” she said with a shrug.
“Maybe it would help if you gave me a backrub,” I suggested hopefully.
“Maybe it would help if you gave me a backrub,” she countered.
“How would that help?”
“I don’t know, I just want a backrub.”
“Oh. Well, sit. We can watch some TV for a while.”
“Cool.”
“Good.”
Caty sat next to me. She may not have realised it, but I was still after a back rub. And I figured that the best way to get one, was to give her one first, and have her return the favour.
So I reached over and put my left hand on her back. She smiled. I started to move it in small circles. She leaned up against me. I continued to massage her back. eventually, I got up, but continued massaging her back. She lay down on her stomach. I started to give her a full fledged back rub.
Knock! Knock! Knock! Someone rapped at the door. Damn. Someone’s at the door. I might have to answer it.
“Taylor!” Isaac yelled at me. “Answer the damn door! I’m being depressed!”
“Damn,” I muttered.
I reluctantly stood, and walked to the door. I opened it. It was a young man dressed in a business suit, with a ‘Hello, My Name Is’ name tag with ‘Craig’ written in. “Hello, is the man or woman of the house home?”
“No,” I lied, just to save myself the hassle.
“Oh, well tell them that we’re doing some free oil changes in the area, and I was wondering if you would be interested.”
I flicked him off, yelled “Bastard!” and slammed the door in his face.
“Tay?” Jessica asked me.
“What?”
“Why’d you do that?”
“He was a Johova Witness.”
“So? He wanted to give you a free oil change.”
“Yeah, but he would have tried to convince us to stop celebrating holidays and wearing casual clothing, and go to mass in high school gyms while he was changing the oil.”
“Why would we want to do that?”
“I don’t know.”
I awoke at about three in the afternoon with a new ‘saying to live by.’ It was: Sex: Do it right before bed. There’s no better sedative.
Caty was already up. She was in the kitchen, making pancakes. I was happy to see that she was exercising her cooking abilities to feed me. A thing she rarely did. Most often, when I asked for a good, home cooked meal, I got a can of soup and a bowl.
Knock! Knock! Knock! Someone rapped at the door. Damn. Someone’s at the door. I might have to answer it.
“Zac!” Caty yelled at me. “Answer the damn door! I’m being domestic!”
“Damn,” I muttered.
I reluctantly stood, and walked to the door. I opened it. It was a young man dressed in a business suit with a ‘Hello, My Name Is’ name tag with ‘Craig’ written in. “Hello, is the man or woman of the house at home?”
“I’m the Goddam man of the house, and my woman’s in the kitchen being domestic.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Sir. We’re doing some free oil changes in the area, and I was wondering if you would be interested.”
“Do I look like I have a car?”
“Uh, yes?” he guessed.
“No, you dumbass!”
I slammed the door in his face.
“Damn Johova Witnesses,” I muttered.
That rude young man looked like that other rude young man. Strange. Maybe they’re related. I thought to myself, strolling down the street. I stopped at the next house and walked to the door.
“Hello,” I greeted the old woman who answered the door, “We’re doing some free oil changes in the area, and I was wondering if you were interested.”
She flicked me off. "Damn Johava Witness!"
Hmmmm, nothing on TV, I thought, bored.
“Sydney! Where are my boxers?”
“How in the hell should I know? Ask your whore lay!”
“Okay,” I agreed.
“Sam! Where are my boxers?”
“How should I know? Ask your whore sister!”
“What does her being a whore have to do with anything?”
“I don’t know, she said it about me!”
“Are either of you wearing them?”
“No!” Sam yelled.
“Which ones?” Sydney asked.
”My special ones!”
“Which ones are those?”
“The red and white striped ones!”
“No!”
I stormed downstairs to find Sam sitting in the rocking chair, in flairs. Not boxers. Sydney was curled up on the couch, wrapped in an afghan.
Clever, but not clever enough. I ripped the afghan off of her, expecting to expose my missing undergarments.
She was in a pair of my boxers. But my blue and white striped ones. “Damn you! Give ‘em up!”
“You wanted the red and white ones!”
“So, those’ll work!”
“Damn you,” she muttered, taking them off.
Some chick I didn’t know walked up to me, and asked me, “What’s your name?”
“Isaac,” I answered her.
She was pretty. Her hair was blood red, and I could see a little bit of black at her roots, as if she had dyed it about three weeks ago, judging from how soon I could see my friend Lauren’s dark roots.
“Mine’s Rebecca.”
“Cool.”
“You want to go out some time?” She asked me.
“Sure. What’s your number?”
“343-6859”
“Lemme write that down. You gotta pen?”
“Yah, hold on a minute.” She rummaged throught her purse,and produced a black pen and a pad of post-its.
I wrote the number on the top post-it and tore in off, putting it in my pocket.
Then I scrawled ‘
Chapter Twelve Back to the Chapters
