Chapter Two. #3
I nod; beaming as I follow her down the stairs. We run into him halfway, giving me the opportunity to dramatically whip the papers out from behind my back to hold them in front of my face, waggling my eyebrows for extra effect. His eyes widen right before he throws his fist up in celebration.
“You did it! I knew there was a school out there for you who would see how incredible you are! Woohoo!”
He grabs the papers and throws them in the air, letting them fall like money while taking hold of my hands at the same time, making me jump up and down with him. I’m so incredibly happy. This moment feels like the last scene in a movie before it cuts to credits.
“How do you want to celebrate, honey? Ice Cream? Pizza? Whatever you want for food tonight, you got it. And it’s a Friday, so you know what that means? I get to kick your butt in some games.” He places his fists on his hips, confidently standing in a superman pose, gazing off into the distance.
My lips are going to rip at the seams if I smile any wider.
Relief washes the doubt away, calming every wired nerve in validation that I’m not a failure.
I’m going to have an opportunity to better myself and get the kind of education I want.
I haven’t felt this relaxed or excited in months. God, it feels good.
“Let’s order in Greek from Dolph’s, pick up ice cream from Rosco’s Gas Station and play card games!”
“You got it!” he says, checking the time on his watch. “Let’s order the grub and get this party started!”
He rotates his hips in a circle, fists still on his waist with his tongue out and eyes crossed, earning loud laughs from Mom and me.
My phone and conversation with Ben now laying forgotten in the back of my mind, I follow my parents down the rest of the stairs to enjoy our night of celebration.
The muscles in my abs and cheeks hurt from laughing so much over the next few hours. We stuffed ourselves full of gyros before walking off what we could on our way to Rosco’s to grab three pints of my favorite flavor of ice cream, Chocolate Oreo.
We dug into the ice cream, finishing a pint each, back at home while playing cards the rest of the night. It wasn’t until midnight that my parents called it quits, giving me hugs and kisses and trudging off to bed mumbling about their old bones needing rest after such a rowdy night.
I sit at the kitchen table, now alone, listening to the crickets chirping through the open bay view window, enjoying the slight breeze and crisp smell of the rain from earlier.
My eyes close, completely immersing myself in the peaceful melody floating in from outside.
Echoes of laughter from the evening mix in, making me feel content and light as a feather.
Smiling, I open my eyes, letting them land right on the dishes from the night's meals still sitting in the sink, yet to be cleaned.
Another thing I love about my family? We don’t fuss about the messes. Sure, we keep our house clean, but we prioritize the moments that really matter, like spending time together, and save the things like dishes and chores until the next day so the night has no stress attached to it.
I put my arms up and stretch while kicking my legs out to relieve their muscle pain as well.
I’m not tired yet, but I should probably try to sleep. Maybe I'll go running tomorrow after I lift. Might as well take advantage if I’m in the mood for it since I haven’t run for fun in a long time.
Closing up for the night, I lock the house doors, shut the windows and go upstairs to my bedroom where I poorly navigate the dark, tripping over myself trying to feel around for my bedside lamp.
The small chain fumbles into my grasp and with a click, a low yellow light floods the small space by my bed, giving me just enough light to change into my matching white silk tank top and shorts.
My cool silk bedsheets whisper on my skin as I crawl under the covers, but the shadow of an object flying in the air onto the floor catches my attention.
Shoot! My phone. I completely forgot about it.
Reaching my arm out, I pause, my fingertips hovering right above it.
Oh, right.
The previous conversation with Ben floods my brain, sending butterflies into my chest.
Inhaling a deep breath for courage, I quickly flip it over. My notifications show three unread texts from Benny Boy and a missed call.
Small bouts of guilt for ignoring him and forgetting about the conversation surface until I remember he’s done the same thing to me before. In fact, he’s done it way more to me than I've ever done to him. The guilt subsides at my epiphany.
Yeah, he can deal with it like I’ve had to in the past. He’ll live.
I swipe up and tap his messages, curious about what he said.
The top corner of my phone shows 12:30 AM. Is he still awake? Do I text him or call him back? Would that be weird this late?
Ugh.
What is happening? Why’s my brain doing this?
Calm down brain, this is not that big of a deal, get a grip.
Expelling a breath, I lay flat and pull the covers up, keeping my elbows outside the blanket to tuck me in.
I stare at my phone clutched in my hands hovering over me, wondering what to do and knowing that the longer I wait, the more likely he won't answer because he’ll be asleep. Would I even want him to answer?
I hate this feeling. Whatever this feeling is. It’s so unbelievably uncomfortable. The debate in my brain continues as my eyelids get heavy and my hands lower. Guess my body decided for me.