Thursday, April 19, 2012
Chapter 3: The talk
Chapter 3: The talk (Wattpad)
I walk home. Really. But it’s no big deal. When I got the scholarship for MHS, Mom and Dad instantly went into overdrive. They immediately checked out what house to buy, whether it’s big enough, if darling Avery can get to school on time, etc. So, in the end, we managed to buy quite a nice house in Suncrest Subdivision. It’s not really that big, but inside the subdivision, it’s one of the modest sizes.
So here I am now, walking towards out house on the 37th street. I’m alone, but I actually prefer it that way. In my opinion, walking through our subdivision is better done alone than with someone else or with a crowd. The place has a resort; two connected lakes, a soccer field, basketball court and the wakeboarding area. That one is the best. But before you get the wrong idea, I don’t do wakeboard – I practically suck at sports that it’s still a wonder Mr. Heyman could stand to see my face everytime I come to his class.
As I turned right and walked towards our house number thirty-one, I noticed that my bike is on the front yard, rather than its usual place at the back. I climbed up the small steps and opened our gate and stepped on the lawn. The mower was only meters away and the hydrangea were in clumps, but my eyes were drawn to my red-with-a-small-basket-thingy-in-front bike. Nothing seemed to be wrong but why –
“I’m right here, m’dear.” I saw a gloved hand waving from the monstrous bamboos in our yard. To be honest, I really can’t see the appeal of keeping them, but Dad is Dad. He has a passion for plants of any kind, even the poisonous ones. I stepped towards him, but kept my distance with the bamboos.
“Why not just cut them down, Dad?”
“We’ve been through this before honey. They’re worth keeping and taken care of.” See? I told you. I don’t exactly know what he’s doing but seconds later, he came out of the green beloved plants, his shirt and jeans stained beyond relief as well as his gloves, which he’s already removing and tossing to the bin.
“Come here, Ave.” I did do and pecked him on the cheek. “Nice job, Dad.” I said, gesturing to where he came from, though for all I know all he did was something of the everyday. His warm brown eyes shined as he smiled, an earthly smell emanating from him.
“You can help me this weekend if you like.” No thanks. “Dad, did you try riding around with my bike?” His eyes instantly snapped to the said object and he started walking towards it. “The front tire was flat and I fixed it. Ave, what have you been doing yesterday?”
Nice mistake, genius Avery. “I, uhm. I carried some books with me to the lake.” They were pretty thick ones but I held my tongue. When his stare still didn’t waver and one eyebrow of his started to raise, I shrugged helplessly. “You know how I like the lake, Dad.”
He smiled fondly and put an arm around my shoulder then kissed the top of my head. “I’ll let it go just this one time. And by the way,” he paused than winked at me, “I didn’t tell your Mom.” I love my Dad. My mother would go ballistic if she found out – she’s crazy about things to be kept in order, you see. I even think – no, I suspect – that she has OCD. That explains our spotless house; the floor, furniture and just about everything. I tiptoed up and kissed my Dad for the second time.
“I’ll bake you cookies this weekend.” My parents are hysterical about my cookies.
Dad chuckled. “That would be wonderful. Now go inside, I still need to clean things up here.”
“Do you need help?”
His eyes flashed playfully towards mine, “Avery, I’m nearing forty. But don’t make me feel so old.” I laughed aloud. “Okay. If you say so.” I winked at him then went to the door and stepped inside our home.
I love our house. It’s one of my favorite places here in the entire terrestrial solar system. It’s small, but I couldn’t care less. I took off my shoes and avoided greasing anything – keyword: Mom – then picked up my shoes and walked barefoot to the cupboard under the stairs. As I passed, the mirror which covered half of our right wall gleamed from the afternoon sunlight streaming from the opposite window.
As usual, there wasn’t one speck of dust on the two couches and the center table on my right side, as well as on the lavatory and supplies cabinet adjacent to the cupboard all the way to the back door and the ground floor bathroom.
I opened the cupboard and placed my shoes on its place among the others on the rack and zipped open my bag, getting my umbrella and chucked it on the holder, together now with the three others. I told my Mom it wouldn’t rain but aaargh. I’ll tell her later.
I closed my bag and the cupboard and then crossed the tiled floor. The flight of stairs wasn’t really lengthy and I don’t look forward to climbing up either; I’m not a big fan of heights. I ridiculously felt relief when I reached the second floor of the house, with its shiny vinyl floor. The only rooms up here are mine, my parents’ and the bathroom. Not necessarily in that order.
I walked across the hall and reached the farthest door, pulling it open and shutting it close. So this is it. My safe haven. Pulling away my bag from my shoulder, I let it fall on the floor with a nice thud and lay down on the bed, all exhausted already.
I never meant to be the genius. I never.
I pulled my socks off and lay down on my stomach, looking around my bedroom. It’s really normal. Just about the right size and I’m not looking for anything flashy, anyway. But the only thing I like that most in here is the frame painting of me, Mom and Dad a year ago above my headboard. We all looked smiley and really happy.
I’m so tired. My limbs are aching so much and it’s still around five pm. Mom goes home at six. Six-thirty at the most. She works at the bank, and Dad is a college teacher of yes, you got it, botany. It’s actually surprising that they got a job that really soon when we moved here.
I sighed and closed my eyes for a bit. I’m sure that at dinner time later, Dad will start the talk. Again.