Patricia walked down past Marquette. I called to her, “you missed it!” She turned around in a soft manner as if she knew she had passed up the turn. She was overjoyed to finally see my house; in the two years we had known each other she never got to visit me. We turned the corner in unison. I was trying to direct her toward my house, but she insisted on acting like she knew exactly where it was.
She is about 5’11 taller than most girls my age, but the way she carried herself she only looked to be 5’9. Even though we were the same age, thirteen, we both walked as if the past that we carried said we were eighteen.
We walked the four straight blocks to St. Louis, made a left turn, and then continued on to my house. Her face was enlightened by the sight of the three story house. I unlocked the cast iron gate and let her in. I ran up the stairs, ecstatic to show her everything, my room, the kitchen, the mural in the hallway, everything. She gasped. I told her it was fine to throw her duffle bag anywhere, as she would be spending all night and the majority of the next day at my house anyway.
We had met three years before, at the summer camp next to my new school. My family was always moving around, but this would be my final school. From our first conversation we clicked. She was understanding and interested in things I had knowledge about; we never ran out of things to talk about. Her family life was perfect, two native polish parents that immigrated to give her a better life. She automatically understood me, she made adjusting easier, and continues to make me happy when I'm down.
As she put her bag down lightly next to the couch, I ran to the kitchen to get some water, the walk was tiring. I thought about settling her in my room, but she was still in awe of the downstairs, so I waited for her to get comfortable. I turned on the T.V. and put on a movie. She was more interested in exploring all the messy nooks and crannies of my home.
As soon as she walked in she gawked at the long stair case that leads to the upstairs bedrooms. Then turned her focus to exploring the first floor. Walking into the living room she took her time to touch everything from the worn out burgundy couch, to the TV. sitting in the opposite corner. She turned swiftly around the couch, a marking point to enter the dining room. The golden family table sitting dead center of the room caught her attention, only to be distracted by the large windows occupying nearly the entire adjacent wall. Further into my house is an archway that leads to an enormous kitchen that is dedicated to my mother’s passion for cooking. She was thrilled to whirl around the island in the center of the kitchen. What was normal to me, baffled her. I smirked.
Once she was settled, I took her upstairs to my room, carrying her heavy duffle bag. When she entered she was more shocked by the dark walls than the actual size of the room.
“It was my brother’s room, before he went to college,” I said.
She dropped down onto the bed, kicking off her gym shoes. She was the first friend to visit my house in years.
She was amazing, always there for me, to talk, to cheer me up, to encourage me. And she had those eyes, the eyes that are full of reassurance and only know how to tell you everything will be alright. Most people didn't understand our relationship. We seemed to never have anything in common, well on the surface at least. Most people can never understand the bond we have.
My mom unexpectedly entered my room. “How’s it going?” she asked Patty.
“Good, thanks” Patty replied with a smile.
“Good, well I hope you two have fun,” she said on her way out.
“So, what time does your dad get home?” Patty asked me.
“Oh, well hopefully not soon, because then we can’t go downstairs….” I replied elongating everything so that she wouldn't ask any more questions.
“Hey, we can watch a movie in the living room before he gets home, if you want?”
“Oh, ok.”
We left everything in my room, and raced down the stairs. I put on some comedy. Halfway through the movie my dad came home. The moment I heard his boots on the porch I jumped up, turned the T.V. off and told Patty to be quiet. He stood there, almost entirely blocking the door. He always intimidated my friends.
“This is Patty, and we were just going upstairs,” I blurted out in one breath.
“Fine, but get me a beer first,” He replied in an exhausted tone.
Turning to Patty I said, “I’ll meet you up there.”
He waited for her to leave. Then he swung his massive hand in a sweeping motion.
“I said get me a beer!” His voice boomed. I only prayed Patty didn't hear. In a rush I ran to get his beer,
the coldest one all the way in the back, just like always. My mom came down.
“Hey honey, dinner’s waiting, when you’re ready, just remember we have guests,” She said calmly.
“Yeah, just bring me the damn food,” he said while plopping down in the center of the couch satisfied with his beer in hand.
“Go ahead baby, I’ll get the next one,” she said gesturing for me to go upstairs.
Running up the stairs, I touched my face, to make sure it wasn't red anymore.
No comments:
Post a Comment