“And one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three,” Kelly chanted, tapping a metre stick against the back of a dining room chair as she watched Timber saunter across the foyer, a stack of textbooks balanced on her head.
The younger girl held her shoulders back, her neck extended as long as it would go, swiveling her hips in shallow arcs.
“Work it!” Carmen hooted, clapping her hands from her perch in another dining room chair. “Work it. Own it, own it, move that body…”
Kelly turned her head to look behind her right shoulder and shot her friend a glare. “Carmen.” She chided.
Timber stopped walking, tipping her chin in towards her chest and allowing the books to fall into her open arms.
Carmen just smirked awkwardly after having been reprimanded.
“Kelly, relax. We’re having fun.” Timber came to the girl’s defense.
Kelly ignored her as she removed her pale pink cardigan to expose the matching tube top she donned beneath it.
“Oh twin sets.” Timber sighed with a comedic-wistful look on her face.
“Shhhh!” Kelly snapped, retrieving the metre stick she had temporarily set down on the table top. “Okay. Now we have to teach you how to walk in heels.”
Timber abhorred as if her friend had just hurled an insult in the name of her mother. “Excuse me, teach me?” she demanded, popping her neck with a raised finger of warning. “You wanna teach me how to utilize shoes?” she continued, taking on an akimbo stance. “Okay, Kelly, with all due respect: Vaseline on the teeth and hairspray, I may not know. But Shoes? Shoes. I know.” She stated definitively. “You have to teach me nothing about high heels. I came out of the womb in high heels, okay? I bought like… seven pairs of high heels the other day. I live in high heels. I could run a marathon in four inch Manolos my sweet friend. So I suggest you put me up in the big girls shoes and tell me where to stand.”
For the first time in the midst of pageants and insatiable appetite for aesthetic victory, Kelly cracked a smile. Holding her hands up as white flags, she surrendered and stepped down.
“I stand corrected.” The girl in the twinset admitted.
Timber simpered cutely. “Thank you.”
Kelly wrinkled her nose as a playful retaliation to her friend putting her in her place, then tapped the metre stick sharply against the marble floor.
“Okay,” she said. “Do you have your talent prepared?”
* * *
There was something to the hushed air that wafted in cycles around the edges of the library ceiling. With modern architecture—there were no vestibules, nor were there tapestries or columns—the sound of a page turning maintained its most natural form. It was the clinical chill in the air conditioning from vents high up on the ceiling; the room was cozy, as one cocooned themselves in their personal bubble of solace, but not spooky, with evidence of classic history in the ornate décor of other institutions.
Angela attemped to keep her steps silent, treading lightly down the aisles of many spines for many ideas. There were many titles and many names and she was transfixed. Her glowing brown eyes roved over the different shades of glossy covers, and she ran her fingers along the wood of the shelf. Inquisitive, on her way to Tony Morrison, she realized that there were titles she had never heard of. There was so much within her grasp that she could not fathom reading all of them as much as she wanted to.
She paused, perusing modern Spanish authors, using her finger as a guide. She slipped a small hard cover book out of the shelf from between two smaller ones. Turning it over in her hands, she raised her eyes to see that there was a red rose filling the empty space she had left.
A smile melted over her previously concentrating lips and she extended her hand to grace the petals with her delicate fingertips.
Tentative, she reached to take the rose, but it disappeared.
Angela giggled loudly, immediately clapping a hand over her lips and ducking deeper into the aisle.
He slipped in next to her from the opposite end of the aisle and pressed his back against the shelves, smirking comically at her and attempting to suppress his elation to see her.
“An’ so, we meet again.” He announced, proffering the voluptuous blossom to her.
Angela smiled demurely and accepted it between her finger and thumb. “Gracias.” She mouthed.
Miguel approached and stood before her, resting his hands on the shelf behind her shoulders. He dropped a gentle kiss on her cheek, retracting, then planting one on her other cheek. There was a moment of silence and calculation. He moved for her lips, but she turned her head.
Angela smirked coyly, ducking underneath his left arm. In a splash of curls, she rose again to her full height and was on the other side of his trap.
He dropped his arms and cocked his head with admiration.
She giggled, eyes sparkling genuinely for a moment.
“I have taken liberty to arrange to dine this evening.” Miguel informed her, clasping his hands in front of him as if daring her to challenge his assertion.
Angela suddenly didn’t see any leeway in which she could decline his offer. Taking a moment to fiddle with her hair, she lowered her face from his as if to show him how interested she was in going out with him would mean that she was somehow a bad person.
“I will not take no for answer.” He grinned, knowing already that he had won.
* * *
That day in the Moffatt household was relatively uneventful until late afternoon when the sun had already made an arch across the sky and the streaks it left behind were tangible. Dave had been holed up in his bedroom with Jeanine for the greater portion of the afternoon, while the identical sector of the triplets sprawled themselves in the family room watching eighties movie classics.
Scott was nowhere to be found.
Sheila and Frank had spent the better part of the day scouring the aisles of the grocery store and as they returned, the house sparked to life with movement and voices deviating from the occasional cinematographic commentary Bob and Clint released into the universe of otherwise dead air.
“Boys.” Sheila stated, presenting herself in the archway of the family room.
Bob raised his eyes but not his head.
“Boys.” Sheila prompted again, attempting to break into the laziness that had draped the room in an almost sullen drone.
“Yep.” Clint sighed.
“Will you take the things out of the car and put them away?” their stepmother began to list off. “And also, can you put some spaghetti on the stove? Your father and I have plans tonight. We’re going up the street for a cocktail party at the Kinneman’s.”
“Uh huh.” Bob responded. “You know Molly Ringwald’s pretty hot.” He commented.
“I was just thinking that.” Clint grinned. “But then you have to wonder if it’s only because we’re already seen her in about forty movies today.”
Bob contemplated this for a moment. “True.” He reasoned.
“Boys! Now!” Sheila shouted form the kitchen when it became perfectly clear that she was getting no response from them.
“Damnit.” Bob muttered. “I was hoping she forgot by now.”
Clint smirked. “Me too.”
“Where’re your brothers?” Frank asked, poking his head through the other archway from the foyer.
Bob lifted his eyes from the television. “Well hi to you too Dad.” He stated dryly.
“Yeah Dad.” Clint mimicked. “Hi to you too. We see who the favorite brothers are.” He snapped, feigning a frown.
“Yeah Dad. Way to favor your other sons over us.” Bob chimed in. “And we’re the ones who look alike too! I thought that used to mean something.”
Frank squinted his eyes for a moment, attempting to grasp what conversation had transpired in the past ten seconds. “What are you boys talking about?” he asked.
“Oh, so now we’re stupid or something?” Clint raised his voice. “WHAT?!?!” he shouted.
Bob smirked.
“Clint… I didn’t—“ Frank started to reason.
“NO DAD!” Clint shouted.
At that point, Dave descended the staircase with his girlfriend shortly behind him. Donning a purpled ruffled mini skirt and a white tank, Jeanine smiled with a slightest hint of embarrassment as she tried to pull her hair back into a ponytail. Frank looked up the stairs at them, then back to Clint who merely simpered, revealing his stalling tactics.
“Hi Frank.” “Hi Dad.”
“Um… hi.” Frank started to say. “Dave… I think we need to have another talk.”
“Bye Frank!” Jeanine exclaimed, hasty to slip outside the door.
Dave followed her out onto the porch and she spun around into his arms, falling against his chest and melting her lips on his. Dave encircled her waist with his arms, wanting to touch her everywhere in the minimal seconds they had to say goodbye. They had made love all afternoon, but for some reason, he couldn’t seem to get enough. With his father most likely watching—like an invasive neighbor—he could only slip his hand down to grip her butt. She whimpered in ambandon, wanting him to take her again—but perhaps that was the best part.
The front door opened before he was given the opportunity to touch her again. She pulled away from him reluctantly, red faced, and smiled at his father, slipping away leaving him to follow her with his eyes from the porch.
“Goodbye Jeanine.” Frank undertoned, his annoyance towards the situation more than obvious.
“Bye Frank!” Jeanine giggled, skipping down the front walk with her ponytail fluttering behind her.
Dave licked his lips, placing his hand flat against his chest with the fingers spread. All at once, he sighed deeply, closing his eyes and gripping a handful of his shirt with that hand.
“Dave.” Frank cleared his throat. “We need to have another talk.”
Dave’s eyes opened and he wrinkled his nose, his back still turned to his father. “Um… I have to go to Ben’s for a second.” He quickly stated, leaping from the porch with his bare feet. He took off down the street in his pajama pants and a Sailor Moon t-shirt.
“Dave!” Frank called. “Dinner’s in twenty minutes! Be home!”
The boy was already starting on the next block. “And we’re going to talk later!” his father added for effect.
* * *
Dave was rubbing his bare arms under the short sleeves as he wrung the doorbell to Ben’s house, hoping his family wasn’t having dinner. He then remembered that the Steiner family never ate dinner as a cohesive unit.
Ben opened the door in a bright yellow tee-shirt with a tropical vista like a postcard in the front. There was green lettering like a greeting that said: “Tijuana: A sunny place for shady people.”
“You were supposed to be here like three hours ago mother fucker.” He stated, opening the door wider for his best friend to enter.
Dave grinned.
“What, did you just wake up or something?” Ben asked, glancing down at Dave’s pajamas.
Dave chuckled. “Naw, Jeanine was over.”
He followed Ben down the steps to his bedroom.
“You ditched me for a chick?” Ben demanded, attempting to pick up his things from the bed.
Dave paused on another yellow tee-shirt, spreading it out. On the front, there was an cartoon outline of the Rocky Mountain vistas, and below that it read: “Montana got a big ‘ol butte.” He laughed shortly.
“Hey man, I was just rolling a blunt.” Ben stated, sitting down on his bed before one of his sister’s old psychology text books from college. He continued crafting a brown fold of paper into a thick marijuana cigar.
“Yeah, I have a five on it though,” he stated to say, feeling at his pants pocket. “Oh wait, shit, I don’t have my wallet on me.”
“It’s alright man.” Ben grinned, although he was completely focused on rolling his blunt. “A friend with weed is a friend indeed.” He smirked.
Dave flopped gently on the bed. “Is that on one of your tee shirts?” Dave grinned.
Ben just smirked. “Bottom line is this Dave.: I am that friend with weed.”
“That you are.” Dave smirked, laying back on his side to watch his friend work with the utmost precision.
A moment passed while Ben continued to meticulously pack more of the diced herb into the slender brown cylinder. He sparked his lighter and ran it quickly up and down the cardboard in order to dry off the blunt.
“Okay.” Ben said, tucking the blunt behind his ear and grabbing the text book as he got off the bed.
He went to the stereo and put in a CD, taking a moment to go to the right track. Flopping back down on the bed, Ben started to light the joint and Dave watched with anticipation, running his hand, palm down, up and down a small section of the bed.
Ben took several drags, exhaling in a sweet-smelling cloud of dust, passing the stick to his friend, and leaning back into the bed as his mind started to go numb.
* * *
“Damnit.” Bob grumbled. “I fucking hate unpacking groceries. It takes like nine years to do.” He snapped.
“No shit.” Clint frowned, attempting to maximize his carrying ability by wrapping the handles of the plastic bags around his wrists. “This fucking sucks. We have to cook dinner too.” He added.
“I say we make some McDonalds—as in we go get some and call it a night.” Bob smirked.
“Hey guys.”
The identical brothers were leaning into the trunk of the Suburban parked in the driveway and quickly spun around at the sound of a familiar voice.
“Oh, hey Tim.” Bob sighed in relief, startled for a moment.
“Hey Tim.” Clint smiled brightly. “What’s up.”
Timber approached, leaning into the trunk of the Suburban as Bob pulled away with an armload of bags, heading for the house. “Carmen invited me over.” Timber explained. “She wants me to go out with her for a little bit. We’re supposed to be going over to Ben’s to smoke some weed.” She continued. “I think he just got like, a lot of weed from his dealer for some reason. I don’t normally smoke weed, but I don’t really have much to do, so I will.”
“Yeah right you don’t really like to smoke weed biatch.” Bob chuckled from the door.
Timber followed him in the house, then Clint. “Shut up Bob. What do you know? Weed makes me seem stupider.”
“We were going to head over there, but Sheila’s making us make dinner. It would be so cool though to go blaze before dinner though… then eat so much!” Clint giggled.
Bob paused for a moment at the counter, cogitating. “Well… we could go get blazed really fast, then come back and make dinner.”
Clint nodded, attempting to turn Bob’s subjective babble into a logical idea. “Or we could make dinner, like start it, then go get blazed, then come back and get it. If we get blazed really fast…” he continued.
“Or we could just light your house on fire and then run away.” Timber rolled her eyes, placing her bags next to Bob’s.”
“I say we just go to Ben’s right now.” Bob shrugged. “Dave’s already there. Then we could come back here, make dinner, then go back to Ben’s house later.”
The three looked at one another, seeking approval for the option raised.
“Let’s go.” Bob and Clint chorused.
Timber shrugged and hurried to follow them out the door.
* * *
Dave stared at the ceiling, the music coursing up and down his spine in a rhythm that made his heart pump irregularly.
“I got laid like… five times today.” He provided.
Ben turned his head, perpendicular to his best friend lying across the end of the bed. “I hope I get laid today.” He stated. “Kelly’s coming over in a few minutes.”
Dave grinned, feeling his eyes stinging. “Dude… I’m so blazed.” He began to laugh out loud.
“Me too man.” Ben nodded. “Dude… I’m like… always blazed. But I am so high right now… I don’t even know what to do.”
“Shit… I gotta be home soon.” Dave commented. “I could only stay like… twenty minutes.”
Ben cracked his red eyes open once more. “That was like… an hour ago… I mean… when you got here.”
Dave just nodded. “Yep.”
* * *
As the three rebellious children slipped out of the Moffatt’s house through the back door, there was a rumble in the street and a bright red Hummer pulled up into the driveway with lights along its entire frame.
“What the fuck?” Clint asked. “What the fuck?!” he exclaimed, moreso shocked to see his eldest brother Scott behind the wheel.
“Oh my fucking GOD!” Bob stated, clapping a hand over his mouth.
Scott opened the driver’s side door and hopped down to the white-sand cement. “What’s happenin’?” he exclaimed obnoxiously, making an elaborate motion of pocketing the keys.
“Nice wheels!” Timber cried, running up to investigate the giant vessel. “My dad has one of these in silver.”
Scott smirked. “Yeah, he’s the one who hooked me up with his dealer. And don’t ruin the surprise, but he’s getting another one in black for your mom’s birthday in October. I checked it out last week when I was getting this baby.” He winked. “But he’s changing the upholstery from black to pale grey.”
“Really?!” Timber exclaimed. “That’s hot. What about something for me to learn on? Have you heard anything about that?” she asked.
Scott shrugged. “I guess you’ll just have to see.”
“Shit.” Bob stated, still in awe of the large craft laying dormant before him. “Clint, we’re getting out of here.” He informed his slightly older brother. “When Dad sees this… oh man. We have to be blazed for that.”
“Good point Bob.” Timber agreed, stepping back from the Hummer. “Not to have this seem like that one scene in Jurassic Park, but… I hear the footsteps falling. We gotta go.” She stated urgently.
Clint nodded slightly, his eyes transfixed. “Shit. That’s like a one hundred fifty thousand dollar car.” He gasped.
Bob and Timber started down the driveway.
“Dad will fucking kill you.” Clint smirked. “Shit man… this is NOT going to be pretty…”
Scott just shrugged. “It’s my money. It’s my choice. It’s my car.” He reasoned glibly. “Dad can’t really say shit. I’ll be eighteen soon anyways.”
“In like… a year!” Clint started to chuckle. “I want a new car! I really like that one. But it’s kind of big. I don’t have anything to drive now. That sucks.”
“It’s hot, isn’t it.” Scott smirked.
“Hot!” Timber exclaimed, clapping her hands emphatically.
Bob, standing slightly behind her, as she stopped to soak in one last look at the beautiful vehicle before her, placed his hand on her shoulder. “Come on Tim. Let’s get out of here before Dad comes.”
“Clint! Come on.” Timber called, lacing her hand in Bob’s as he led her into the street.
“I think I’d get red too.” Clint cogitated for a moment. “What other colors did they have?”
Scott was rather enjoying the little survey, running his hand back into his hair that was now slightly blonde, and pinching at his tips to make them stand statically on end. “Well, they had black and silver and white…” he began to list, his grey eyes rolling up in his head slightly. “I actually ordered this—like did all the paperwork and shit for it—like a week ago. They have a new olive green one coming out in a little bit though. It’s pretty sexy.”
Meanwhile, Clint was encircling the vessel with his hands tucked tentatively in his pockets like a small child on their first visit to the museum.
“Bob, Clint!” Frank’s voice boomed from the kitchen. “Where’s the asprin I bought…” he undertoned, nearing the opened side door.
“Shit.” Clint muttered, suddenly booking it in the direction of the street to catch up with his sibling and best friend.
“Oh, Fuck!” Bob shouted, taking off in the direction of Ben’s house with Timber not far behind.
“Wait for me guys!” Clint called, sprinting after them. “I’m going to need to get really high for this one.”
* * *
Bob did nothing short of collapse on Ben’s front porch, drawing himself up enough from a panting heap to perch on the top step then shift over as Timber stepped past him. He instinctively grabbed the heel of her grey flip flop and would have send her tumbling to her knees before the front door if it hadn’t been for her hands catching her fall.
“You fucking skeeze.” She muttered, kicking her foot at her friend in an attempt to hit him. “I’ll kill you bitch.”
Bob just laughed, turning his face up towards the evening. The lights on Ben’s street were for some reason out and it was nearly pitch black, taking the eyes a moment to dilate appropriately. Clint emerged on the front walk as if he had unzipped the blackness—the house across the street was only barely visible as a silhouette—and stepped into the actual outside.
“That was close.” The slightly older of the triplets proclaimed, taking a moment for his breathing to return to normal.
“That was close as Hell.” Timber avidly agreed, slipping her flip flop back on her foot and pulling herself to her feet.
“You know Timber,” Bob began with an almost sagacious tone of voice. “If it weren’t so dark out here, I would be able to see up your skirt when you did that.”
Timber made a face that was some hybrid of a smirk and a glare. Clad in a black smocked dress with gathered elastic at the top and a short skirt of flowing velour on the bottom, she was hardly fully dressed.
“That thing is so tiny.” Bob continued. “I bet you anything you can see your ass.”
“Well I usually wear it over pants, but I guess I didn’t anticipate perversion this afternoon.” Timber responded haughtily, ringing the bell.
Jame came to the door almost right away, her long black hair sweeping at her elbows. She was wearing one of Ben’s tee-shirts with a karate chopping ninja on the front which read: “I’ve got a black belt in keeping it real.” It was tied up in the back to expose a hint of her middle above extremely low rise jeans with holes in several places.
“Hey guys.” She greeted, sniffling in a rather exaggerated manor, with her hand over the lower half of her face.
“You okay?” Bob joked, then was surreptitiously elbowed in the ribs by his twin brother.
“Yeah…” Jame started to explain. She moved her hand from her face to show an ornate pink gem in her left nostril. “I just changed my nose ring because my other one popped out on me, and I think I’m having an allergic reaction to this or something.”
“That sucks Jane.” Clint announced, attempting to be compassionate. He placed his hand on her shoulder.
Jame looked him up and down, her eyebrow creased in a peticular blend of annoyance and concern.
Bob shook his head, his face traveling downward towards the floor as if Clint’s display actually hurt him as well. “Oh sweet brother…”
“Hey!” Clint snapped. “Jane is in need of our concern, okay Bob? I didn’t want to have to do this, but I think I have just proven that I am not the asshole brother of this family.”
“Isn’t Scott the asshole?” Timber asked, clasping her hands in front of her as she grew more and more self-concious of her babydoll dress.
“True.” Bob smirked.
“You know, Scott really isn’t that bad when you know him.” Timber began to reason. “He’s an ass, but it’s like… oddly endearing.”
Bob started to nod.
“Nevertheless you guys.” Clint cut in. “Jane is not feeling well. She is our friend Ben’s older sister. Therefore, we need to show some concern for Jane in her predicament.”
“Okay,” Timber cut in. “I just want to clarify that her name isn’t Jane anyways.” She commented, beginning to laugh.
Clint’s face went florid, his countenance confused.
A silent moment passed.
“Her name is Jame.” Timber explained.
“Yeah, see it sounds like Jane, but it’s with an M.” Bob added, smirking at his brother’s shameless attempt to flirt with the much older woman before them.
“Yeah. Jame.” Timber cut in. “Like Jane… but not. That’s a good way to remember it.”
Jame just nodded.
“Jame?” Clint asked, testing the name’s durability.
“Yeah. Her name is definitely Jame.” Timber stated again.
“Really?” Clint asked. “I always thought it was Jane.”
“We figured as much.” Timber stated. “But we’re here to tell you that it’s Jame.”
Another silent moment passed.
“We’ll give you a moment to cogitate it.” Timber stated calmly.
More silence.
“Yeah.” Jame said slowly. “Ben’s downstairs.”
She led the way down the hallway towards the back of the house.
The three teenager followed.
“Thanks Jame.” Clint stated with a smile.
“No problem.” She half smirked, looking him directly in the eye.
The eldest triplet kept his eyes trained at the petit woman standing before him as Timber and Bob descended together into the permeating scent of marijuana.
“See you later Clint.” Jame rolled her eyes, noticing that he was definitely staring.
“Bye Jame.” he enunciated once more.
Her eyes shifted in either direction before she plainly walked away, leaving him standing at the top of the steps.
“Call me.” Clint said to no one, eventually giving up and jogging down the steps.
* * *
“Good God it reeks of weed down here!” Clint exclaimed, submerging himself from the staircase into a thick endo cloud.
“I think I’m already high.” Bob sighed, already flopped back on the bed next to his other brother.
Dave looked to Bob for a moment, his eyes less than half mast and bloodshot. There was something labored about his activity as he raised his hand just slightly in salutation.
“Dude…” Ben exhaled, actively rolling another blunt. “We just smoked like two blunts between ourselves. We are so fucking blazed right now.”
Dave just nodded his hand with the minimal of movements. “Yeah. I… am… FADED right now.”
Timber sat herself at the end of the bed, crossing her legs at the knees. “I would love to get high after all the shit Kelly’s been putting on me lately. I’m like running around all fucking day, walking back and forth every two seconds.”
“A Hitler pageant.” Bob provided, smacking her thigh. “Oh, Dave, Scott just bought a Hummer.”
Dave raised his head from Ben’s pillow just slightly. “Whaaa?”
“Scott bought a Hummer. How much is Dad going to flip out! I can’t wait until we have to listen to that shit over dinner.”
“Yeah, Dave, you have to help us make dinner. Get your ass up.” Clint cut in.
Dave waved his hand blandly. “Naw… Clint… I’m so fucking high.” He admitted, beginning to giggle lightly like a gleeful schoolgirl.
Ben began to dry the blunt he was rolling with his hot pink Bic lighter. “Whose ready to light this?” he announced, tauntingly waving the brown stick in the air.
“Let’s spark it!” Bob grinned, slapping Timber’s bare thigh for emphasis.
“Ow! Fucker!” she teased, clutching her leg and the blotch of red that was beginning to form on her dark skin.
Ben held the blunt between his lips, pale eyes cloaked in blood as they aimed downwards to see what he was lighting.
The smell began to grown stronger, the smoke thicker, the colors blurrier. As the blunt passed between hands, between friends, something happened to the coterie to make the walls begin to wave and blur and bleed. The smoke was a magic finger that lured five minds down the rabbit hole into a Wonderland that looked and smelled like the real world, but was somehow more make-believe.
Timber released a symphony of coughs that came from deep within the chest and rolled up through the throat like a snowball finally hitting its target as it came over her tongue— a fleet over the mountains.
“Fuck man. Do you have that cough under control?” Bob asked, touching her knee again.
Timber turned her head from where she had tucked it away in her middle with her hands over her mouth. She looked to him suspiciously, pieces of hair falling down from a twist at the side of her neck. He did nothing but smile at her tauntingly, passing the blunt to her with a raised eyebrow.
She recoiled from him, tucking her legs together and shifting them out of his reach. She extended her fingers and they brushed against his fingertips. She smiled.
“Dude… we gotta go make dinner.” Clint stated once more, coughing a very slight cough that jarred his entire body.
“Fuuuuuuuuck.” Bob stated, flopping back into a supine position that consisted of his head resting on Clint’s stomach.
Clint raised his head slightly. “Hey, you guys wanna come to dinner?” he asked.
* * *
She soaked in the bath, then rouged her lips, combing her hair back from her eyes. There was something hanging in the air—something that she could not describe, but it was tangible enough to keep her fixated in the mirror for a long moment. A bathrobe secured at the waist, she gazed long and hard into the reflective glass and the other elements in the room seemed to fuzz into the land of peripheral vision.
She asked herself what she was doing.
She had no clue.
The moment broke. There was a red blouse and a black flowing chiffon skirt laid out on the bed as if a figure had worn them then laid down, slipping away into the mattress but leaving what she had donned behind. It was a definitive moment, as if slipping into the silky fabric of her own clothing were to be crossing into the life of this figure that had mysteriously fallen away.
This caused her to smile. She could finally see what else was in the room.
* * *
“Um… what do you call this… dish.” Frank asked in a slow, measured tone, attempting to grasp the nearest euphemism.
Clint raised his pink eyes from the plate he was currently scarfing down. “Spaghetti and cheese.” He mumbled through a mouthful.
“It was my idea.” Timber piped up, enjoying her plate with a certain hearty appetite that had never before been seen.
Frank nodded slowly, allowing the information to settle in. “Okay…”
The kitchen slid back into a dull quiet, save the active chomping of five individuals who were behaving as if they hadn’t seen food for an extended period of time. The ticking of the clock on the wall over the sink—a rather antique looking piece that Sheila absolutely adored—continued, creating the only backdrop and other source of noise. Outside, the sun had set and it was dark. The vertical blinds over the sliding door leading to the back deck were left gaping, the window reflecting a rather peculiar scene.
Frank continued to eye the spread in the center of the table. Sheila was seated to his left, followed by Bob then Timber then Clint, and raised her eyes to her eldest stepson who was seated on Clint’s other side. With the three between them buried in their meal, their shoulders identically hunched, Scott curled his upper lip with distaste at the hybrid of spaghetti and macaroni with a salad-like undertone. He raked his fork over the pasta that was already coagulating then set it down completely, taking a sip of his orange juice.
Dave, sandwiched between Scott and Ben, ate slowly, as if in a trance, missing several bites only to have them plummet to their death on the lap of his pajama pants.
“Oh… shit…” he muttered, staring downwards below the table top but refusing to act.
Timber began to giggle.
Scott picked up his fork once more, plowing across his plateau of pasta. “Wait…” he spoke up, clearing his throat once more. “What is this again?” he asked.
“Macaroni.” “Spaghetti.” Bob and Clint responded simultaneously, then looked to each other to share a smirk.
“Macaretti.” Ben suggested.
“Spaghetteroni.” Clint argued, laughing listlessly before taking another enourmous forkful to his mouth and chewing.
Timber broke into peals of laughter, leaning back into her chair. She began to careen with her hand on her stomach, eyes squeezed tight and tearing. “Oh—oh my God—you guys!” She exclaimed in attempt to get the attention of the others who were already partaking in the festivities of chortles. “Oh my—It’s ghettoni!” she shouted, beginning to laugh profusely once more until she finally toppled from her chair to the tile floor, inciting more laughter.
“What in the…” Frank muttered, eyebrows creased in concern.
“What’s in it?” Scott asked, clearly not amused. He continued to work his fork. “What’s this?” he asked, raising a miniature, cheese-covered block on the tines.
“Tomato.” Dave responded.
“Duh.” Bob chimed.
“Yeah, duh.” Clint added with somewhat of a haughty air.
“And what’s this leafy shit?” the most blonde of the brothers continued.
Silence.
Timber had recovered and was settling back into her chair. Frank had starting eating, tentatively at first, then, upon realizing that the meal was indeed edible, with more intentional bites.
Scott took a tiny, crunched leaf between his barred teeth, chewing pensively for a moment. “What is this?” he asked; and it did not take many ticks of the antique clock over the sink for him to make an adequate connection.
Eyes wide, Bob and Clint exchanged amused glances.
“That’s not the issue Scott.” Timber spoke up. “Now eat your damned food.”
“Yeah! “ Clint joined.
“Yeah!” Bob added.
“Yeah!” Ben grinned, a new recruit. “And you better finish that whole plate because we have brownies for dessert!”
Timber giggled, reaching in a gauche manner across the table to scoop more pasta from a large container.
As Frank settled into eating, granted it was not the best meal, he decided that that moment would be apropos to mentioning, once more, his eldest son’s recent purchase. “So, Scott, did you show your step mother your new ‘ride?’”
The four brothers collectively sighed, and Timber ducked her head to prevent the others from sensing her laughter.
Scott rolled his eyes. “Get off it already Dad. It’s my money, my car, my business.” He stated plainly.
Frank hastily swallowed around a bite of pasta to make his next point. “Yes. Maybe if you were eighteen.” He pointed out.
Scott rolled his eyes once more. “It’s not like a don’t work! I made the decision to buy it myself!” His face was rapidly reddening as this conversation hit the frying pan for the second time in the past hour.
“Yes…” Frank attempted to remain relatively neutral in the presence of others. “… but you legally cannot yet manage that money until you’re eighteen.”
“Whatever.” Scott fired back in a muttering tone. “I don’t think it should really matter. It’s my money. I made it.”
“That’s not the point.” Frank sighed, exasperated, seeing that neutrality was becoming less of a realistic demeanor.
“... I don’t try to stop you from spending your money, why are you trying to stop me from spending mine?” Scott nearly demanded. “I mean, didn’t you just go and buy like three hundred dollars worth of groceries>?”
Frank sighed, trying desperately to control his temper. “Yes, but Scott, three hundred dollars so my children can eat is not the same as a one hundred fifty thousand dollar Humvee—a military vehicle, no less—so you can cruise around with Angela all day and be the big man on campus. Let’s be practical.”
Scott froze and his eyes went to stone. He nearly threw his fork at his plate, rose to his feet and left the table.
“Scott… let’s be realistic.” Frank pleaded, realizing moments to late that he had struck a sensitive nerve. “You should have asked me first and I would have gone with you and helped you.”
Scott had almost made it to the door as this comment reached his ears. “You know what Dad?” He growled. “This is MY life, and it’s MY car.”
He turned on his heels and the door slammed behind him after he was gone.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
“Never a dull moment at the Moffatt house.” Bob snickered.
“I know.” Clint avidly agreed, looking to his youngest brother in hopes of agreement. “Eh, Dave?” he asked.
Dave just nodded, dazed by the light fixture hanging over the kitchen table, but somehow still managing to shovel his food into his mouth using two forks at the same time. “Fuck theatrics.” Was all his said through a mouthful.
Timber was giggling again, uncontrollable. “I know!” she exclaimed, slapping Bob’s thigh rather hard. “It’s like this one time when…” she paused and looked off, wrinkling her nose in deep thought.
“This one time what?” Ben asked, the only one of the five high teenagers that was able to control his behaviors.
Timber stared for another long minute. “I don’t even remember.” She shrugged then started to laugh again. She slapped her thigh. “I don’t even remember!”
Frank surveyed the conversation taking place. “What’s wrong with you kids?” he asked as the stench of suspicion suddenly grew strong. There was a period of cogitation. “What’s in this pasta?!” he demanded.
* * *
The first night she would formally accept another as her companion, he would be there and he would witness the whole thing.
I’ve been biding my time. Been so sadly kind. I’ve got to think so selfishly cuz’ you’re the face inside of me.
He was parked across the street from her house, sunk low in his seat, wondering why his heart had somehow taken him there.
I’ve been biding my days, you see… evidently it pays. I’ve been a friend without bias views and then secretly lust after you…
He had only been there for a little while— treading water over whether or not to just swallow his pride and run, arms waving behind him like white flags, up to her door and into her arms—when a sleek black car, the make of which could not be identified, slowed down then stopped in front of her house.
Now you feel lost in your void I’ve been used.
With the darkness of dusk and the remote location in which he had chosen to inconspicuously park a very conspicuous vehicle, he could not see into the car just yet, but he pulled himself up in his seat.
If only he could get closer…
You wanna do someone else. So you should be by yourself… instead of here with me… secretly
The driver’s side door opened and a young man emerged, taking a moment to look around at the other houses on the street. Scott leaned into the passenger’s seat, wanting to press his face into the window. Dark featured and tan in a pair of khakis and a black sport coat, the young man held red roses.
Trying hard to think pure. Bloody hard when I’m raw.
Red. Red roses. He could remember red roses. Red roses that smelled like she tasted.
You too can act so sexually about boys and girls and your freaking dreams.
And there she was—stunning. He felt uneasy in his shoes—inadequate. She had a certain radiance that must have come from withdrawal because he swore he could smell her perfume from where he sat. She took his breath away in a fluttery blouse and flowing skirt. Her curls bounced on her shoulders like the way children giggled and his eyebrows melted into a deep crease. He suddenly felt an extreme longing that had been bottled under the pressure of suppression.
So now, you feel lost in your heart and confused…
And then he suddenly understood what was taking place.
You wanna do someone else… so you should be by yourself… instead of here with me… secretly…
The young man planted a delicate kiss on each of her cheeks, his palms rested just barely on her bare shoulders. He was touching her. He was looking at her body as she stepped into the car.
So now you feel lost in your heart, feeling used…
Scott’s heart pounded with rage as he placed his giant military vehicle into gear, causing spotlights to be thrown across the cement like discarded paint. As the black sedan pulled off down the street, Scott followed, paces behind.
You had to do someone else… you should have been by yourself… you had to do someone else…. You should have been by yourself… instead of here with me.
Eyes narrowed with rage, he grappled violently with the urge to merely drive over the car before him with his suburbanized tank, crushing the both of them.
Secretly.
* * *