The Statistics Of Alen [BoyxBoy]

The Greenhouse Effect

car·pe di·em/ˌkärpā ˈdēˌem/exclamation
used to urge someone to make the most of the present time and give little thought to the future.

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Alen pressed his back against an old wooden dining chair. The dining chair that mismatched with Mrs. Abril's small, rectangular glass kitchen table that she shoved into a corner. There was too much about Mrs. Abril's house to describe. She was often given things from all sorts of people, so she had too much furniture, too much cutlery, stacks and stacks of plates and bowls on countertops because they didn't quite fit in the cabinet. She had exactly five rugs on her kitchen floor, layered over each other in a series of mismatched checkers and dots. Stripes and some type of swirling pattern. Lined against the back wall, where four bookcases. Books weren't in them, of course, and they were all different heights. Instead, they held random things. Found things and perhaps lost things. Boxes of other things, important and maybe not important things. A shelf dedicated to snowglobes. Maybe she had too many things, but they were her things and she found comfort in them. Alen liked the house because despite her having so much in random places, it was somehow neat. Under the table, just an inch from his foot were more boxes, the place she put new boxes. Recent boxes that were months old, boxes that would stay recent boxes until she got an even newer box and was forced to find a home for the oldest one.

What Alen liked the most about her house, however, was the grandfather clock that was too big for her tiny hallway. Like Alen's hallway where the sofa jutted out, the grandfather clock practically obstructed the entire walkway. Along with more boxes, of course. And that one shelf that hung crooked near the living room, the shelf with forks on it for some reason. Alen never asked why she had a fork shelf in her hallway. If she wanted a fork shelf, it was her business to have one.

He could hear the clock, despite it being behind him, behind the wall that was also behind him. He could hear it thump. Not tick, but thump, thump, thump and a tiny clicking noise. Alen figured it was broken. It had the right time, so even if there was a click, he still really liked it. It was loud. Maybe he was fabricating it, but he felt like he could feel it in the floor.

Somewhere in the house was a louder thump, some rustling and then an "Aha!" Thump thump thump on the ground until she got closer.

"I knew I had more tea. I just had to look." She said, and Alen smiled up at her from where he'd been sitting. "Believe it or not, it was in the bedroom. I knew Hannah had given me some the other day. I just thought I picked it up, but no. It was still next to the bed."

Alen smiled gently, "You should have your daughter take you to get some when she comes to get you today."

He watched the old woman plop the kettle down on the stove, turning the dial. "That's a good idea. I will certainly do that. Any requests?"

He thought for a moment, "I haven't had chai in a while."

"Chai it is." She answered, sitting down next to him. The house was dark, it was always dark. She said the light always hurt her eyes, so they were never on. Most of the curtains would stay closed, except the one small rectangular window over the sink. It was always open, so it allowed the room to be washed in a slate blue light. Just grey enough for Alen to see, but not bright. It was calming. Mrs. Abril's house reminded him of something forgotten. A place that the world didn't know, they would never know. He knew it, though. It was as if it was frozen, here. No one but her daughter and Alen came to visit Mrs. Abril. Sometimes Hannah would stop by to give her things, but she didn't come inside. "So about that mysterious person that's been dropping you off and picking you up." Alen sat straighter. "Of course I noticed, I notice all." She smiled. She was sweet, her voice was sweet. Alen loved her. She told him that she was his grandma, now, since he didn't have any. His dad's mother and father died a long time ago, and he'd never met his mothers. He didn't even know if they were alive. She looked out for him and maybe she wasn't aware of how much he needed that.