wow look a song
Tw: self harm, suicide shit. Etc. Yall already know.
We walked up the steps of a large pale brick house with a big red door that was just down the end if the street. I kept my hands in my pockets as they shook, balled into fists. I stood close to Jerry, he was much taller than I thought he was originally. He tugged the little boy next to him along by his wrist as he chewed at his fingernails on the opposite hand, the football under his arm about to slip and fall to the concrete.
"Doyle, get your hands out of your mouth." Jerry grabbed for the ball under his arm, dropping his arm.
The youngest tore his hand from his face, looking down as if he felt bad about the habit.
He tossed the ball down on the porch and grabbed for the silver door handle, throwing it open, exposing their very messy home.
He held his hand out, welcoming me in with an over exaggerated smile. His brother lead the way, plopping himself down on the stained brown couch infront of a small box television, his eyes immediately glued to some tacky old cartoon.
Jerry shut the door behind us, latching the door shut, but not locking it.
The house smelled of weed darts and freshly baked bread, the dark brown splinter ridden wooden floor cluttered with cans and various collected amounts of garbage here and there. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to tell the house was untidy and frankly gross, yet homly. The walls were a dark velvet red, lit with the dim color of a small light hung from the ceiling. Several posters of few well-known rock bands clung to the walls, some torn and frayed along the edges.
A faded crackle of a radio played out from the other room where the strong stench came from, which I assumed to be the kitchen, a song which seemed to be by Elivis, but the static made it unreadable.
"Aye, Momma?" Jerry called out softly, rounding the corner into the other room. "I hope you don't mind, I'm gonna have a friend over for a while."
He backed up, stepping on his own feet as a woman, clearly his mother, stepped into the room. Her hair was tied up in a bun woth large round glasses rest at the tip of her nose, she wore an apron over a dark lacey, yet very short, long sleeved dress, the white fabric splattered with flower, a cigarette like item hing from her lip. From what I saw the kitchen was nearly sparkling with how clean it was, a drastic difference from the living room.
She looked me up and down, my hands still shaking in my pockets and my face still burning as she took a long drag off the item before taking it from her teeth.
"That's alright, he can stay for as long as he wants as long as his mother is okay with it." She said, a very strong Jersey accent in her words. "It's good to see you finally making friends."
"This is Glenn... he kind of needs a place to actually live for a while... maybe longer." He tried. "He's the one that I went to vist every night."
His mother looked to me once more before turning back to her son.
His words pierced through me like an arrow in my fucking lungs. He really cared that much? He came to see me every night?
"Alright, just don't you two cause a whole bunch of trouble." She said. "You can show him to the guest room, Gerald."
Jerry smiled, thanking his mother before taking me by the arms and leading me up the stairs.
Down the grey hallway, he pointed between two doors at the dead end.
"The on the left is the guest room, the one next to it is mine." Jerry beamed, his hand remaining on my forearm as he spoke. "The room across from that is my baby brother, Doyle's, and then next to that the bathroom, everything else is pretty much off limits, but the first room on the right is my mother's and the other is a storage closet... which is kind of a mess."
His hand slipped it's way into mine as he leaned to open the door to where I would be staying.
"I... don't have a lot to set up in here." I mentioned, staring at the bland empty white walls of the room. "Everything I own is at my house."
