Timber strolled out of the drug store, a bag in her hand. Bob would be coming over later and though she was angry at him because he obviously didn't think he should tell her about his escapades with Carmen, she had bought his favorite cookies. She hadn't known why, she didn't think he deserved to enjoy something while she was mad as a bull inside. Why hadn't he wanted to tell her anyway?
"TIMBER!!!" Someone had called her name.
Timber whirled around, searching for the source. She already knew who she would see.
"Tim!!" Bob called, waving his hands over his head to catch her attention.
She looked over across the street. "Bob!" she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. Wait, she was supposed to be mad. But somehow, she couldn't bring herself to be angry with him. She had been raging just seconds ago, but the sound of his heavenly voice wiped that all away. His smile made all her anger disappear.
"Wait there!" he called, glancing in both directions before stepping onto the road. He steadily jogged towards her.
A flash of red. A whirring engine. A drop of rain. A splash of his brown hair.
The streak of red was gone, bolting on down the street. The engine faded. The drop of rain became two... three... four... more. The brown hair. The brown hair on the cold, wet tarmac. The brown hair was streaked with red blood.
The plastic grocery bag slipped from her fingers in slow motion, the bag of his favorite cookies thudding to the damp sidewalk. The sound of her heart thumped just inside her ears as if she were inside it and the walls of her world were pumping, pulsating, thudding with blood. Her legs tingled as her mind screamed at her to move. The sound of the now thunderous rain drops was silent. Everything was silent. Everything except for her heart.
Her legs carried her over in a sprint and she dropped to her knees beside him, ignoring the intense pain the seared up in her nerves. His brown eyes looked into hers. His empty brown eyes.
He was dead.
* * *
"I love you and could never live without you!" Timber screamed, tears flowing down her cheeks and cooling her already scorching skin.
Darkness, all around her darkness. She sputtered to catch her breath through the sobs that racked her body. The darkness was so familiar... she was in her bedroom. She sighed, trying to calm herself down before hyperventilating. Her shirt seemed to stick to her skin as a light sheen of sweat was coating her body. She touched the shirt. It was her favorite. She slept in it every night. It was a navy blue hockey jersey. Number seven. Lucky number seven. It was Bob's jersey, but had somehow become her own. Her fists of the fabric unraveled as she flattened her palms against her stomach, pressing the jersey tighter to her body. It was Bob's jersey...
Checking the clock briefly, she discovered that it was three AM. Outside, the rain thudded softly on the ground.
I love you and could never live without you!
It was raining on the first day of November.
* * *
Clint hurriedly yanked a shirt over his head. Appearances were always everything to him, even though he was only going to get a checkup and haircut. He always figured that he never knew who he'd see when he went out, so he might as well look good at every waking moment.
However, his family wasn't exactly appreciative of his efforts to maintain a nice facade. Scott continued to scream up the stairs every few minutes with the intention of hurrying his brother along in this process of looking good. It was early in the morning, and the boys would be going to the doctors before having their haircut. The eldest brother of the Moffatts knew that Clint was afraid of doctors and figured this was his attempt to stall going.
"Clint!" Scott exclaimed, finally storming into the room. "Dad's waiting in the car, so you'd better hurry your dumb ass before I kick it."
"I'm coming." Clint muttered, in the excitement, he got his head stuck in the sleeve instead of the collar.
"Oh God, are you that freaked about the doctors?" Scott asked, tugging the shirt onto his little brother correctly. "Can't even dress yourself. That's pitiful."
"Shut up." Clint directed, cramming his wallet into the back pocket of his black pants and heading for the door.
As Scott had foreseen, the rest of the family was waiting in the Expedition, Frank in the passenger's seat with a cross look. Dave was behind the wheel, still not having gotten enough driving hours to receive his license in March.
"Oh no, hell no." Clint said, reluctantly climbing into the back seat next to his identical brother. "Dave's driving? Good thing we're going to the hospital already."
"Yeah, it was bad enough with Bob." Sheila commented from the middle triplet's other side.
"Hey!" Bob exclaimed. "That hurt my feelings."
"Mine too! I'm better than Bob tenfold!" Dave exclaimed, backing out of the driveway at full speed.
"Whoa," Frank said, gripping the inside of the door. "Slow down a bit."
"Sorry, my foot slipped." Dave said slyly, peeved that his family was so afraid to drive with him in the "hot seat," as his father liked to say.
Bob gazed out the window at Timber's house as they sped past.
* * *
"Scott, David, Robert, and Clinton Moffatt." the nurse read off her clipboard.
"That's us guys." Frank smiled, rising to his feet in the waiting room.
Sheila smiled up at them from the next seat where she read a magazine. "Good luck boys." she said.
"We're going to need it." Clint muttered.
"Quit being such a baby!" Scott scolded, hitting his brother on the arm.
"Ow."
"Now I'll just need you boys to change into these and I'll be right back." the petite lady directed, briskly leading them down the small hallway to an examination room. She handed the boys gowns then left the room.
"Okay guys." Frank said, clapping his hands together.
His sons stood in a line, staring at him expectantly.
"What?" their father asked, feeling like he had something obscene written on his forehead.
Scott pointed to the door.
"Oh, I see." Frank rolled his eyes. "Hurry up you four." He opened the door and stepped to the other side, shutting it again.
It was the average locker room scene as the four boys faced the walls and went about the business of getting undressed.
"Um, I think my dress it missing a big piece." Bob joked, turning around to exhibit the open back of his gown.
The other three laughed. Scott attempted to tie the back of his gown, but couldn't quite reach. Clint had succeeded in closing the gap in the back by tying one string all the way around his waist to meet another on the same side. Dave just wrapped his gown around his body and sat up on the examination table.
"I hate doctors." Clint said flatly, leaning against the wall and turning slightly pale.
"We know." the other three chorused.
"You boys ready in there?" the nurse sang through the door. She was a pleasant older woman, but something about that made Clint not trust her.
"You guys ready in there?" he mouthed in a mocking tone.
"Yes." Dave said, opening the door.
"Come with me, we're going to weigh and measure you." she explained, looking out of place due to the fact that the four boys were each about a foot taller than she was.
"Then we're going to gouge out your eyes and choke you with them, then feed your mangled bodies to the cats in the lab downstairs." Clint murmured, receiving an elbowing from Bob.
He watched as his other brothers stepped on the scales, having their weight recorded on their clipboards. He knew his turn would soon come, and though it was just a scale, it scared him.
"Clinton..." nurse Lila said, extending her hand. Her fingernails were well kept with a rose colored nail polish.
Clint eyed the contraption skeptically. "I.... don't think so." he chickened out.
"Clint, get on the scale, Retard." Scott urged, rolling his eyes at his brother's immaturity.
"There's nothing to be afraid of honey, just get on the scale and lemme take your weight down." Nurse Lila said, waving him to her with her manicured hand.
Clint eyed her up and down with contempt.
"Clint." Frank said forcefully. "Please."
"Dad... I don't want to!" Clint whined.
"We'll buy you ice cream!" Bob offered, smiling brightly and totally unaware.
"In that case!" Clint exclaimed, mocking his brother's ridiculous proposal.
"Come on honey." Nurse Lila said, taking him by the wrist and gently leading him to the scale.
Clint reluctantly allowed her to drag him up onto the platform.
"And this is the easy part Clint. You haven't gotten to the physical." Scott grinned, receiving a scolding look from Frank.
"One hundred seventeen." Nurse Lila read aloud.
Scott snickered heartily. "Weakling!" he taunted.
"Now you buys head back to the room and the doctor will be right with you."
"Oooh. Fun..." Clint muttered, stepping off the scale and following his brothers back to the small examination room.
* * *
Scott walked back out of the examination room, a cheesy grin on his face. "Your turn Clint." he said, giggling.
"Did you just... giggle?" Bob asked.
"Ooops." Scott said.
"And you just said 'ooops?'" Bob asked, baffled.
"Dr. Gellar gave you drugs." Dave accused.
"I'm not going Dad!!!" Clint screamed, clutching his father's arm.
"Clint, yes you are. Act your age." Frank reprimanded.
"Yeah, and once you get in there, you'll be glad you went." Scott grinned. "Trust me."
"When have I ever trusted you?" Clint demanded, not letting go of his father's arm.
"Come on Clint. She won't bite." Frank promised.
"Damn." Scott said. "I was kinda hoping she would."
"Me too." Bob grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.
"What are you talking about?" Clint demanded, curiosity getting the best of him.
"Go look!" Scott urged.
"You'll thank him later." Dave added, remembering his own experience with Dr. Gellar not more than a few minutes before.
Clint got up and marched over to the room, flinging open the door. His tongue fell out of his mouth.
Dr. Gellar was a blonde woman with legs that stretched on forever. She wore a skirt that went down to about her mid thighs, and her hair was down, hanging on her shoulders. Clint smiled.
"Clinton?" she asked, turning around with a blinding smile.
"Dr. Gellar?" he asked, forgetting about his fear of doctors.
"Take a seat." she directed.
Clint closed the door right in his father's face, sauntering in and sitting down on the examining table. He watched Dr. Gellar as she checked his reflexes. The she told him to drop the robe. He was in heaven.
Her fingers on his skin were so soft as she ran the cold, metal disk of the stethoscope across his chest. He watched her green eyes, piercing with concentration.
"Now I'm going to look at you down there." she said, motioning for him to stand up.
"Down where?" Clint asked, in a dreamlike state.
Dr. Gellar smiled slightly at his naiveté. "Stand up." she told him.
"Stand up?" he asked.
"Or lie down." she said with a shrug.
"Whoa... wait... what're we doing?" he asked, confused.
Dr. Gellar sighed and told him exactly what she was planning to do.
"WHAT?!" he exclaimed.
"Clinton..." she sighed.
"Are you trying to take advantage of me?" he asked. "Cause if you are, I assure you, it's perfectly alright." he smiled, lying back on the cushioned table. The white sheet of paper crinkled beneath his back.
Dr. Gellar rolled her eyes discreetly; the other three had said basically the same thing. She opened the waistband to his red boxer shorts, taking a peak inside. At least he didn't have a partial erection like Scott had. She went back to her clipboard.
"Is... is that it?" Clint asked, not able to fight the disappointed feeling.
Dr. Gellar glanced over her shoulder. "Yeah." she said, turning back and taking some notes on her clipboard.
Clint sat up. "Really?" he asked. "Whoa." he rambled. "That wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."
"You just need a blood sample taken and you should be ready to go." she added, going to open the door.
"A WHAT?!!!" Clint exclaimed."
"A blood sample." she repeated.
"As in... a SHOT?!"
"Yes, as in a shot." Dr. Gellar was getting agitated very quickly.
"DAD!!!"
* * *
"No, please! I swear... don't do it!" Clint exclaimed.
"Clint, just relax." Bob coaxed, holding his brother's hand.
"How come THEY didn't need a shot?" he demanded.
"They weren't sick in July." Frank replied, trying to restrain his fifteen year old son from kicking the blood technician.
"NO!!! I won't let them take me." Clint protested, trying to wriggle his legs from his father's firm grasp.
"Should I call security?" the technician asked, obviously not in the mood for any antics.
"No, he should be fine." Frank said through gritted teeth. "Scott! Come get a leg."
Scott held down Clint's right leg as the boy tried to struggle.
"Just get Bob's blood, we have the same DNA, it'll all work out... I promise." Clint explained, pleading with the techie.
"Clint!" Dave complained, holding his brother's other hand. "Stop it! Why are you so afraid?"
"You want the truth?" Clint asked calming down drastically and taking on a solemn tone.
"That would be nice." Dave said, as he, his brothers, and his father lightened up on their grips now that the boy was calm.
"YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!!!" Clint exclaimed, getting up from the chair and starting to run.
"I'll get security." the technician stated calmly, picking up the phone.
Clint took off down the hallway, having no clue where he was going. Bob came up behind him, grabbing his arm and attempting to drag him back.
"Just lemme go man! We can run together!" Clint whined, thinking he would be free if he could just reach the elevator. "We can be free," he begged, trying to pry Bob's fingers from his wrist. "Just you and me, how it always should have been. I'll make it worth your while Bob, I swear!"
The elevator doors slid open and two rather large men that looked fit to be nightclub bouncers as opposed to hospital security guards stepped in.
"See Clint, now these guys are going to kick your ass." Bob sighed, letting go of his insubordinate brother.
The two guards took Clint by each arm and lifted him off the ground, carrying him back to the room. He knew he was done for.
"You'll never be able to get my alive!!!" he screamed, kicking his feet in mid air. "I'm bustin' loose!!! Lemme go!!! HELP!!!"
The two men lay the now trembling boy to the cold floor of the small blood work cubicle, holding him so he couldn't struggle.
"Frank, I really don't think that's necessary." Sheila objected, sympathizing for her now quivering son.
"Y-y-y-yeah Dad! PLEASE!!!" Clint screamed, desperate. He tried to kick his feet. "Help me!!!! BOB!!! SCOTT!!! DAVE!!! SHEILA!!! GOD!! SOMEONE HELP ME!!" he screamed hysterically, feeling tears begin to well in his eyes. "PLEASE!!! PLEASE!!! I'M SORRY!!! JUST DON'T DO IT!!!"
Bob crouched down beside Clint and took his hand. "Shhh Clint. Shhh. It's just a shot, it's not like you're going to die. Just relax Clint."
"Bob, you have to help me... please... I swear... help me please..." he begged, grasping his twin's wrist, his eyes glossing over.
"May I suggest some therapy for your son?" the technician asked Frank as she wrapped Clint's upper arm with a thin rubber hose.
"NO!!!!" Clint screamed, not caring who heard him.
Bob squeezed his hand tighter. "Calm down Clint, Calm down. You were never this afraid of needles. Just relax."
Clint watched in horror as the needle neared his skin...
* * *
Angela swept her curls behind her ears, bouncing her little sister in her lap. "He said that?" she asked.
Timber nodded. "It was hilarious." she replied. "But I was like: 'that's just Angie, she's not some hoe.' and he was like 'well okay then. I'm going to make her feel so comfortable!' It was funny."
"I bet it was." Jeanine said, taking another suck of her sucker. "Scott would do anything to get some ass. It's more than funny. It's hilarious."
"I feel bad for him." Kelly commented, holding Patti's tiny hand in her own. "He's so informed, yet he's trying so hard to make this work so he's so clueless at the same time. Like, he's so used to all those hoes he used to get with that he doesn't know how to treat a lady."
"He's still a virgin though." Angela stated. "So it's not like he's some kind of whore."
"Yeah... well..." Kelly said with a heavy sigh.
"Would you ever have sex with him?" Jen asked, curious.
Angela shrugged. "I don't know yet." she replied.
"That's a yes. I can see it in your eyes." Timber stated, matter-of-factly.
"Well, he is my boyfriend." Angela pointed out. "And I'm not saying now, but eventually, if we get to that stage of our relationship... then yes. I would want him to be my first."
"That's cool." Jen sighed. "I want Dave to be my first." she said wistfully.
"Or Mr. Richards!" Kelly teased.
Jeanine giggled. "He's a teacher!"
"Yeah, it's normal to have a crush on your teacher." Timber stated. "Of course... it's never happened to me, but it is normal."
"But not to kiss them!" Kelly exclaimed.
Jeanine's face went ashen. "Shut up Kelly!" she shouted, throwing a pillow at her.
"You kissed him???" Timber asked, baffled.
"So?" Jeanine said, looking away.
"You hoe!" Timber giggled. "That's so... weird! I've only kissed two guys in my life, one of them being practice; and you've kissed... a man? Like, a teacher, a grown up man?"
"I know! Isn't that weird?" Kelly asked.
"New subject!" Jeanine proposed, covering her face with her hands. "Let's talk about you and Trevor!" she pointed accusingly at her cousin. "Would you ever make whoopie with him?"
Kelly shrugged. "I don't think so." she replied. "I'm waiting for marriage, and I don't see myself with him until then."
"Why not?" Angela asked, receiving a big kiss on the mouth from her sister.
Kelly shrugged, laying down on her stomach. "He's kinda... I dunno. I mean... to tell you guys the truth, I still kinda like Clint."
"Then why the hell did you dump him?" Timber demanded.
Kelly shrugged. "I wish I hadn't." she replied. "You never know what you've lost until you loose it."
"And you' never know what you've been missing until it finally arrives..." Timber murmured, thinking of Bob.
"You guys, Carmen should be here any second." Jeanine stated, getting up from the floor. "Let's go downstairs."
* * *
The crinkling of the plastic wrapper was heard as Clint slouched in the chair of the salon, opening his sucker from the doctor's office.
"You big baby." Scott teased, the candy reminding him of the episode that had taken place. "I have never seen a dude cry like that."
"I didn't cry." Clint said snidely, narrowing his eyes at his older brother as he popped the red sucker in his mouth.
"You cried." Scott said, closing his eyes while the shampoo girl massaged his scalp with her fingers.
"Shut up, no I didn't." Clint snapped. "And taking blood hurts."
Over on the other side of the salon, a tall, thin, bald African American man was trimming Bob's hair with the utmost delicacy. "A few highlights should liven up the layers." he stated, talking with a lisp.
Bob just smiled into the full length mirror, off in his own land as the man rambled on.
"And we will definitely go layers on you Bob since you want to keep some length. You'll look just tasty."
This brought Bob out of his dream world rather quickly. "Tasty?" he asked.
The man, who had insisted upon being called Ricky, smiled. "You got a girlfriend?" he asked, snipping at bits of Bob's hair.
"N--- well, kinda." Bob replied.
"Spill it, spill it." Ricky rhapsodized.
"Well, there's this girl..." Bob began, stressing the 'girl' part. "Her name's Carmen."
"Mmmm. Bob and Carmen." Ricky said, playing with the names on his tongue. "That has a nice ring to it."
"Timber would beg to differ." Bob muttered, sighing.
"Timber and Bob, that sounds even better." Ricky nodded. "Go for the Timber girl, she's definitely the one."
"No, no!" Bob laughed. "Timber's my best friend. Carmen's a friend. But like.. Carm and I sort of started being more lately. But I've known Timber longer. Tim and I are the ultimate best friends."
Ricky eyed Bob skeptically. "Sounds to me like you like this Timber girl."
"No, I like Carmen." Bob corrected. "Timber's my best buddy."
"But do you love her?"
"Timber? Well... yeah." Bob admitted, sighing. "But as a friend. I mean, she's Timber. I've known her for only a few months but we're already the best of friends. And I mean, I just don't look at her like that. She's more of the sister type. She's one of the guys."
Ricky shook his head defiantly. "Trust me on this Bob." he said, his hands coming to rest on the boy's scalp. "You may not know it yet, but the sparkle in your eyes tells me otherwise. You like Carmen, you could possibly love Cameron. But when you talk about Timber, I know you love her. I don't even know the girl, but you're eyes tell me that you love her. You just don't know it yet, but you'll learn."
Bob let these words sink in. Ricky weirded him out. Here was this gay hairdresser, not that being gay was wrong, telling him who he loved. It was ludicrous. He loved Timber, but as a friend, as a soul mate, as a sister. He never even considered her as a lover. And he wasn't going to start.
* * *
The rain had stopped by the time she woke again, but there were still puddles on the road as she trekked home from Angela's house. She was going to see Bob again. Something about that fact made her tingle with excitement, though it never really had before. She didn't quite understand what was happening. She had dreamt about him. In the dream she was in love with him. When she woke, she was still in love with him. And now... she was in love with him. Plain and simple.
"Bob?" she murmured, nearing her house and seeing who she thought was him on her front porch.
Timber quickened her pace to a jog, pinching her arm discreetly to be sure she wasn't dreaming. He heart sank. A mirage. Damn her imagination.
Fishing the keys from under the grass pot, she briefly wondered what her parent's obsession was with grass; the whole art deco thing. It was really starting to bother her, though it was cool. Everything was starting to bug her. Maybe it was because she was confused. She hated to be confused, She hated it when she couldn't be her normal, laid back self.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" she demanded, opening her front door and going inside. She ran straight up the steps to her bedroom. "This is Bob... eeewww..."
* * *
Carmen screamed for the second consecutive time. "You look so hot!" she exclaimed. "Your hair! AHHH!!! It looks so hot!!"
"Thanks." Bob beamed at the compliment. "It kinda feels weird though... I mean... it's short now."
"Trust me Bob." Carmen said, pulling him by the collar inside. "It looks hot. You look even hotter than before. You look like... older."
Bob smiled as her lips found his. The warm sensation of her tongue invaded his mouth. He pulled back. "Carm..."
"Hmm?" she asked, leading him by the hand into the living room.
"What... what exactly is going on with us?" he asked, sitting down on the sofa beside her.
"What do you mean?" she asked, tucking her short, light auburn hair behind her ears.
"I mean, are we like... just friends? More than friends? What genre can we classify... this situation... in?" he asked, gesticulating with his hands.
Carmen looked to the idle television set. "Well... what do you want to call us?" she asked.
Typical girl. Turning the question around. Bob thought to himself. He took her hands in his. "I want to call you my girlfriend." he said. She smiled. "But," he added, watching her face drop. "I don't want to hurt Timber's feelings." he added.
"Why would her feelings be hurt?" Carmen asked.
Bob shrugged. "Just this weird hunch I have."
Carmen nodded, pondering this for a moment. "Well..." she began. "We don't have to tell her."
Bob was slightly shocked by the proposal. His new girlfriend wanted to deceive his best friend. That wasn't right... but it was the only alternative.
"Okay." he said, kissing her lips again. Was this plan they had going to work out? Probably not. But if it meant he could be with Carmen, then he would graciously accept any opportunity he could get.
* * *
"Hey." Bob said, looking into his best friend's dark eyes.
"Hey." Timber said, timidly. She felt a tsunami of emotions wash over her and leave her gasping for breath on the shore of reality. "Love the hair." she said, a soft smile appearing.
"Thanks." he said, sensing her fragile mood. "... can I come in?" he asked.
"Oh, um... yeah, of course." she replied, realizing she had been standing in the doorway.
He brushed past her, his elbow brushing the bare skin of her arm. She became angry at the feeling she got from that. Why was this happening now?
"So what've you been up to all day?" he asked, turning back to her as she closed the door.
God only knows! My fucking mind has a mind of it's own! My heart is doing all these crazy things in cohorts with my brain and they aren't letting me in on any of the details! "Not much." she replied with a shrug.
"You tired?" he asked.
"No."
"You sad?"
"No."
"You confused?"
"No..."
He thought for a minute. "You hungry?"
"Are you?" she asked.
"No."
"Okay."
"Okay." he said, cocking his head to the side to get a more introspective look at her. "You're acting weird."
"PMS." she replied without thinking.
"I thought that was two weeks ago." he said.
He was right, but she didn't want to know how he knew. She gave him a look and he grinned.
"Don't hurt me." he pleaded with a smirk.
"What do you want anyway?" she asked, pretending to get annoyed.
"Do I have to have a reason to stop by my best buddies house?" he asked sugarly.
She laughed. "Nope."
"Well, this time I do." he said. "You wanna come over?"
"Why?" she asked skeptically.
"Because."
"Because what?"
"Just come over okay?" he sighed. "And bring some stuff, you're spending the night."
"Okay." How could she say no to that smile?
* * *