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It’s fall of ‘04 and my mom makes me carry around a shitty little flip phone in case of emergencies. I don’t even want it, so my mom can bother me all the time? No thank you, she worries about me enough as it is. She calls me all the time, while I’m in class, at lunch, I mean for fucks sake I’m eighteen. One of the things that mom does that I don’t completely hate, is pack my lunch, because honestly I’m too lazy to do it myself. I’d never remember, I don’t function well in the morning. She keeps asking me ‘who’s going to pack your lunch when you go away for collage?’ I tell her I can eat on campus. She says I need to be an adult and learn to pack my own lunch. I always think thats metaphor for something else.
Friday morning I wake up, my mom puts my lunch in my bag, and I leave for school. I shower at night, thats my thing. My mom thinks its smart, because I can get more sleep in the morning if I shower at night. It’s probably one of the only things we agree on. So instead of waking up at six AM, I can wake up at seven. My mom drives me to school, I have my license, I just don’t have a car. She works afternoons, I get home at three thirty, she gets home at five. She insists on driving me in the morning because sometimes the buses run late in the morning, I catch the bus after school. At two-fifty five everyday, thats if the bus wasn’t late. I liked to go out, sometimes, but it wasn’t really my thing. I’d rather just stay home with my best friend. She came over on Fridays, so I looked forward to Fridays. We catch the bus together to my house.
Its two fifty five, the bus is coming and my mom is calling, I answer the phone before I can consider ignoring it. “Yes Ma.”
“Is Gwen with you?”
“Of course she is, its Friday.”
“No attitude, I’m going to the store after work. I’m making beef stew for dinner.”
“Got it, beef stew.”
“Tell her your mother says hello.”
“Okay Ma.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
My mom thinks that its weird my best friend is girl, because I’m not. She always asks me if theres something more between us. I always tell her no. She always assumes, like mothers do. I mean, I think Gwen is beautiful, but in a way that a brother thinks his sister is beautiful. She’s brown, and I’m as pale as they come. It doesn’t bother me that I’m pale, Gwen always tells me I need to get more sun, I tell her I get sun burnt too easily, and she just laughs.
“My mom says hi.”
She smiles, “I know.” It wasn’t new. My mom called every Friday, at two-fifty five. She asks about Gwen, and tells me what she making for dinner. “Whats for dinner tonight?”
“Beef stew.” We get on the bus, and sit in the back, right next to the window. She likes to look out the windows as we pass through the neighborhood. She listens to music , I listen to music. I like Jazz and Hip-Hop she likes Hardcore and classic rock. We both share music, and discover new genres we didn’t even know we like. Her thick dark hair fell tame around her shoulders. I like it better curly, when its wet. She likes it straight, says it easier for her to take care of. I notice the look on her face, like she was in deep thought as she stares out the window, she usually had that look on her face, but it was different. I tapped her shoulder, and she took out her one of her earbuds.
“Whats wrong?” I ask, I was curious.
“Nothing, I’ll tell you when we get to your place. Okay?”
“Okay.”
That was the end of the conversation, we didn’t speak the rest of the ride, it wasn’t uncommon. Sometimes we talked and listed to each others music, sometimes we didn’t, and I’m okay with that, we’re okay with that.
When we got off the bus we walked a block to my house. We sit our stuff next to the couch and plop down. I take my earbuds out; she does the same.
“I over heard my parents talking, and I found this in the trash in their room.” She shows me a pregnancy test, its positive. “I’m going to be a sister, Matt. I just think they haven’t figured out when the right time is to tell me.” Her eyes reflect her smile, she seems nervous, and happy.
“Do you want to be a sister?” She’s better with kids than I am, she loves kids. I felt like it was a stupid question.
“Of course I do.” She didn’t hesitate, she was sure.
“Well, I guess we can’t be only children together anymore.” That made her laugh.
“My baby sister or brother, is your baby sister or brother too.”
“God brother? I like that.”
“So do I.”
I sit my phone on the table, and get out my books. She sits the pregnancy test on the table and just looks at it. She’s holding back a smile. I couldn’t help my own smile, her smile was contagious. I like that, no matter what her smile makes me smile. She can pick me up when no one else can. I hand her one of the books I had taken out.
“I wanted to give this to you. I think you’ll love it.” She eyes the book for a second, she loves to read. Reading isn’t my strong suit, but I got more into it because of her. Turns out there are good books out there that I like.
“What is it about?”
“I’m not telling.” I said, not bothering to contain my smile. “Find out.” She takes the book from my hands, and starts to flip through the pages. I put one earbud in, listening to music and drawing while she reads. She’s a faster reader than me. She’d finish that book by tomorrow. She doesn’t put it down once since she picked it up. Our concentration breaks when my phone rings. She looks up from her book, and I look up from my sketch pad. It’s my mom, it’s also five thirty. “Yea Ma.”
“I just finished up at the store. I’ll be home in half an hour.”
“Okay Ma.”
“What are you and Gwen up to?”
“I’m drawing, she’s reading.”
“Do you guys ever talk?”
“Yea, we do.” I laugh a little, and my mom pauses, I picture her smiling on the other end of the phone.
“Put the clean dishes away and put the dirty ones in the dishwasher, will ya?”
I smile, “Okay. I love you Ma.”
“I love you too, Matt.”
I get up and start on dishes, Gwen follows behind.
“I can help with dishes.”
“No, my mom asked me to do it. You know how she is.” She reaches up and brushes some of my hair away from my forehead.
“Yeah, I know. Your hair is growing back.”
“I noticed, its not that long yet. I like it this way, not long, not short.”
“Me too.”
She goes back to the living room, and I can’t help but think how different we are. I’m tall and skinny, I have some muscles that aren’t mine to take credit for. Gym has been kicking my ass the last two years. My hair is brown, my eyes are brown, and I’m pale. The only color I have to me is the tattoo on my forearm. My mom wasn’t too happy when I came home with it on my eighteenth birthday. I designed it myself, a cracked skull with red roses around it. They’re my moms favorite. Other than my tattoo, I’m plain.
Gwen, she’s vibrant, and smart. I’m just a middle class white kid. Her? she’s full of determination, way more than I’ll ever have. She passes her classes, and I barely pass. She’s 5’4” with dark hair, her eyes are colored light brown, not hazel, not dark brown, but somewhere in the middle thats just perfect. Her eyes always look like their glowing. I’m awkward, and she’s social. She can just walk up to someone and start a conversation, make them smile, and walk away with a friend. Me, I couldn’t do that. Me and her are two different pieces of a puzzle that just seem to fit together.