𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝑺𝒊𝒙𝒕𝒚-𝑻𝒘𝒐 | b. rodriguez

the question

The Fourth of July was a hot and stuffy day, inside the kitchen at least. Luckily it wasn't too hard to make potato salad. Um. For my mother. It was harder for me.

She made me stay home all that morning, fussing that I "couldn't get dirty before 'helping her' prepare the food."

It wasn't until eleven in the morning that she tired of my complaining and put me to work.

"Shaye, why don't you vacuum the house?"

"The whole thing?"

"Yeah. The whole thing."

And so I did. I rolled my eyes after turning my back, but yeah, I vacuumed the whole house.

I retired to my room and read a bit of a book, a Nancy Drew mystery, and then I contemplated forming a mystery for my mother to solve; the mystery of my disappearance.

That was a no-go. I'd thought the whole thing through, though.

I'd leave out the window, but only after leaving the clothes I was wearing on my bed with the book on top of them as if I had vanished from inside them. Then I'd put on a pair of pants she didn't even know I still had, and an old tee-shirt, and then I'd be on my way. Just me, Dad's glove. Maybe I'd take Benny's hoodie, or maybe I'd give it back to him before I left. Either way, I'd have to say goodbye. If he tried to stop me, he might convince me I could hide in his house. But that could never work, being right across from mine and all. I'd have to stay away from all the windows. No baseball. So I'd have to decline his offer, and then I'd beg him to come with me. Heck, after I ask him that I'd have to ask everybody. Maybe I'd skip the goodbye– leave his hoodie on his front porch with a note. Then I'd hide in Kate's bushes until she came back.

Okay. I'm kidding. Sort of. That'd be weird. I could just– just take a bus to Washington. Find her somehow, and live with her from then on.

I lied, I guess – I didn't think it all through. I had no idea where I'd go. That was probably the only reason I didn't. That, and I felt awful about leaving Scotty and my mother to deal with my loss, so soon after loosing my dad. Sure, it's been five years, but.. do you ever recover from that?

I sure haven't.

"Shaye?"

I craned my head up off of my pillow where I lay sprawled on my bed. I guess I'd spent a while in there, thinking and whatnot. My mother stood in the doorway.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Almost lunchtime. Why don't you help me make you and your brother some sandwiches. Bill won't be home until right before the block party starts."

✱ ✱ ✱ ✱

"Bye mom!" Scott enthusiastically cried after placing his dish in the sink with a clank. He gave her a kiss on the cheek, and then frowned when he turned and realized I was still sitting at the table.

"Uh. Bye Shaye," he said, almost sympathetically before running out the front door to play baseball.

Through the curtained kitchen window I saw my brother meet up with Benny in the street, and they exchanged some words. Benny glanced past Scotty to the front door of our house, as if he expected someone – me – to be there.

"Shaye, come help me with the dishes. Please."

Hesitantly, I stood and pushed my chair in, picking up my plate and empty glass and carrying them to the sink. Then I picked up a towel and mother handed me a cup.