“I’m going by the house in an hour to mount her new flat screen TV on the wall. Should I pick you up on the way and we tell her together?”
“You’re an asshole!”
“Am I? Hmm, I wonder what mom and I will chat about while her favorite son mounts her brand new TV?” he taunts. “I’m sure your name will come up as it always does. And then it’ll be just a matter of time before she asks about he who will not be named.”
“If you still lived at home, I swear I’d put shaving cream in your favorite pair of Air Jordan’s then shove them in the oven.”
A prank I pulled once when Kyle used to live at home.
“I knew you did it!”
“Who else would have done it, Einstein? Mom?”
“But you lied so convincingly. You even cried.”
“Thank you,” I say with a smile. “The ability to cry on demand is a gift.”
“Just for that, you’re going to bring some wings tonight.”
“I live on a poor legal assistant’s salary. I don’t have any extra money to buy wings for your random ass party.”
“You live at home with our mother and don’t pay for squat. Plus, I don’t want you to buy them from a chicken spot. I want you to impress my friends and make your famous garlic Parmesan wings.”
“Kyle, those wings take a lot of time, and I was planning on a relaxing day of reading and maybe some online gaming.”
“Plans change, nerd. You’re the best woman in my wedding and it’s your responsibility to handle things like this. Hell, I don’t know why we’re having a debate about it. You told me–”
“Fine!” I cut him off, knowing exactly where he’s headed with this.
I wanted Kyle to finally pick a wedding date after his excruciatingly long engagement so badly, that I promised him I’d handle Dena’s Bridezilla tendencies if he’d just take the plunge, a duty I’ve kind of dropped the ball on.
“I’ll come and I’ll bring a tray of wings with me,” I tell him. “A small tray.”
“Wise decision, big head. See you at seven.”
“Bye, snitch, and you’ll see me whenever I get there.”
***
When I arrive at my house, I’m freezing. I place the grossest green smoothie ever made inside my refrigerator, knowing I’ll never drink it, but I do it because the thought of pouring ten dollars down the drain doesn’t sit well with me. Afterwards, I make myself a jumbo sized mug of hot black tea with two heaping spoonfuls of honey and pointlessly dwell on the money I just wasted on the smoothie. Which reminds me that I need to check the balance of my bank account.
I open my laptop and visit my bank’s website. I login hoping to see a pending deposit.
Please, please, please.
Ugh, there’s nothing. My balance still sits at $130.49, the same as yesterday and the day before that.
I work as a virtual assistant for a lawyer who is a friend of the family, Mr. Solomon. He was a friend of my late father’s and has been in my life for as long as I can remember. I was only ten years old when my father was mugged and died from a catastrophic bleed to the brain. I blame my struggle with his brutal death for not living up to my potential in school. I was smart, but because I battled with grief and depression, I only did just enough to get by. After graduation, I tried going to the local community college for a while but felt lost there too, and that’s when Mr. Solomon offered me a job as his virtual assistant.
The pay isn’t fantastic, but it’s more than I would make at McDonald’s. That’s, of course, when Mr. Solomon actually pays me on time. The downside of working for a friend of the family is that he can pay me whenever he wants and there’s not too much I can say about it. I can hear my mother’s judgmental voice now if I did.
Don’t you dare embarrass me and complain about your job, Kaya. Bruce has been nothing but good to us since your father’s passing.
Well, I guess that means I can’t buy a pair of new jeans for tonight. I’m going to have to dig into the back of my closet and try to make something old look new again. It’s kind of silly that I’m even worried about how I look for a small gathering at my brother’s house, but I will not give Brick the satisfaction of catching me on an “off” day. It’s bad enough that I actually don’t have my life together. The least I can do is pretend like I do.
Kaya
I’m convincedthat time travel is possible because here I am, standing in front of my open closet, obsessing about the same ridiculous things I did when I was a fourteen-year-old.
