uncool, stanley barber

5

5 - dad's are meant to screw up their kids

by a couple of weeks, me and stanley are closer than ever. i choose to hang out with him at school, rather than be an awkward third wheel.

i also find myself gravitate towards him at work, persuading gladys to let me work closer to him so we could chat about how shitty this town is.

even winnie likes stanley and wanted to hang out with him, even when josh came back. josh took it well, he tagged along out of jealousy.

breaking down my wall that day, helped me become closer to him and i'll never pass an opportunity to do the same again.

after work, i throw my keys on the table to be greeted by my father. he's stood in his police attire after a long day of work i guess. he hasn't showered.

"hi dad" i say, looking at his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

"winnie didn't have dinner" he sighs. no greeting, no nothing.

i stand deflated. "she did, i made her pasta-"

"she didn't eat it" he snaps, looking at me. his piercing blue eyes meeting my grey ones.

"that's not my problem-"

"it's your responsibility" he raises his voice a little louder. my dad's quite muscular and so i should be trembling at the sight of him balling a fist. but he never laid a finger on me when mum would. he stood by me.

"well, she had dinner" i correct him "it was just her dumb choice not to eat it. maybe she didn't like or isn't feeling well?"

"then you should be home-"

"i was at work-"

"you should be here to look after your sister" he exclaimed, his voice booming throughout the house.

"what, because you're too busy for her? for us?"

"arabella-"

"don't call me that!" i scream before running to my room and slamming the door shut. i slid down the door as i sobbed into my hands.

a few minutes later, i heard the microwave ding, signalling that dad had prepared for this and has made him and winnie something else.

instead of joining them, i pull on a hoodie and open my window to shimmy down the drainpipe.

when i reach stanley's house, i text him saying i'm outside. immediately i get a response: what?! okay, is everything alright? come to the basement window

i follow his instructions and knock on the yellow tinted glass. it slides open for me to enter as i crawl in and land on the floor with a thump.

of all the times we've hung out, i've never been to his place. and i certainly didn't know his whole bedroom is the basement. he notices me looking around as he chuckles.

"yeah, this is my room" he gestures around him. "i can hear the floorboards sometimes, but it's all mine."

"i like it" i smile and my gaze lands upon him. and his swollen lip. "stan, what happened?"

"oh, uh" he started and i could tell he didn't know how to finish it.

"you know you can tell me anything, you know that" i repeated his words from the other week. he looked more at ease with my words and guided me to sit on the floor with him.

"my uh, dad" he says quietly. "he can be, moderately handsy when he's dealing with his feelings. and alcohol."

stanley's dad hits him.

"oh, stan" i say sympathetically, directing my hand to his face. but he moved away from my touch. "i wanna help."

"i've ran out of plasters" he mumbles, rubbing the puncture but i can tell that made it worse as he hisses in pain.

"it just needs some water. and ice" i say to which he gestures to his mini fridge. i borrow one of his shirts on the floor and place some ice in it. "do you mind?" i ask.

he shakes his head. i dip my fingers in some water and start to scrub away at the drying blood. other than the damage, his lips are soft and a nice shape.

"you done this before?" he asks, in between me covering his mouth.

"winnie falls over sometimes" i say, replacing my finger with the shirt of ice that i hold on his lip. "and by winnie, i sometimes mean me."

he chuckles and leans into my hand. "as much as i enjoy your company, why're you here?" stanley asks, taking the ice shirt from me and holding it himself, placing it where it really hurts.

"oh, just an argument with my dad" i reply, watching my hands intertwine with each other. "and i didn't wanna go anywhere else."

"i think dad's are meant to screw up their kids" stanley stifles a laugh as we feel closer than ever, with daddy issues. he smiles at me before placing the ice shirt down. "you wanna get high?"

this time, i don't judge him. this time, i oblige. he teaches me how to do it, even though i coughed slightly, that only made him laugh.

"you not scared about your dad killing you?" he asks me when we're pretty baked.

"i couldn't give a shit" i smile as we lay back on the floor, staring at the ceiling. "sure, he's a cop. and sure we're doing something illegal right now. BUT I DON'T FUCKING CARE!"

i feel free, loose. for now, i'm not trying to handle my sibling and do well for my dad. for now, i'm being a teenager with stanley barber.

"too right" stanley laughs at my idiocy and throws his arms about. being high makes you do random things you wouldn't normally do. but with stanley, he does things i think he'd do sober.

"you know what we should do?" he asks me in a breathy voice. i look at him sideways and ask him. "we should tell each other our deepest, darkest secrets."

i laugh with him until it dawns on me and i sit up. he follows in suit and sits opposite from me. "you first" i say, childishly.

"if you insist" he bows and turns around. "i give you backne supreme!" he pulls his top over his shoulders and reveals his spots on his back. they're scattered everywhere, like a dot to dot.

"woah" i say in awe "that's gross."

"i know right" he turns around, still with his top off and looks expectantly at me. "come on, what's yours." i sit up on my feet and make him promise that he'll never tell anyone. "okay, i promise."

"my real name's arabella"

i look over at him, in fits of laughter as i'm laughing myself. "what, really? you're actually called arabella dawson?" i nod and continue to choke out laughs.

"you promise! no one's gonna know" i point my finger at him as he tugs it forward, making me fall on top of him.

"i promise, arabella" he smiles at me, laying on his bare chest. we're so close my breath is hitched in my throat. also, since stanley's lips are on mine.

he pulls away as soon as he does it. "i'm sorry, is that okay?"

i nod and kiss him back so we're laying on his basement floor, making out. he's good with his hands and i'm trying not to hurt his lip anymore than it is.

but other than that, everything's perfect.

being high makes you do things you wouldn't normally do. but i know, for a fact, i would've kissed stanley barber either way.