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“Blah, blah, blah. Marriage made you a boring adult, Adler.” I grin, ushering him from the room, and close the door behind him when he turns to speak. So I’m an asshole. At least, I’m funny.
CHAPTER TWO
GARRET
I take one last look in the mirror and exhale roughly, “It’s a man bun.”
“It’s cute.” Summer shrugs with a wide smile. “Fig wears one, and all the single ladies in my yoga class are after him.”
“Fig?” I furrow my brow. “Who the fuck names their kid Fig?”
“Fig is my mystic, and he is brilliant.” Summer leans back, places both palms on the ledge of the counter, and hops up onto the granite top with a roll of her eyes.
“He – wait. He’s your what?” I laugh loudly.
“My mystic, and you know what, Garret?” She huffs, blowing a loose strand of hair from her face, making it perfectly clear that she doesn’t deem me worthy of her full attention. It would be cute if she wasn’t a sanity-thieving succubus playing jump rope with my last remaining thread of patience.
“Nope, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” I mock, dropping two cinnamon pastries into the toaster.
“Not everything outside of your narrow field of vision is dumb, stupid, or whatever other hurtful way you decide to dismiss things you know nothing about. If you would just shut up for one second and open your eyes, maybe you would notice what the rest of us already see.”
“Which is?” I smell my breakfast burning a second too late and hit the early release button on the toaster with a curse.
“Depends on where you’re standing, I suppose.” She shrugs and hops down from the counter. “Tell me what you see right now. Don’t give me an item name though; describe it. Don’t overthink it. Just speak the first thing that pops into your mind.”
“Pissed. Off,” I grumble, not giving a fuck about anything other than the soul-crushing disappointment of realizing I just scorched my last package of delicious cinnamon-filled happiness. I’m why I don’t have nice things – at least, not anymore.
“That’s not a description of what you see.” Summer crinkles up her nose at the sigh of the black crumbs littering the counter when I lift the food equivalent of my entire life from the toaster.
“Don’t tell me how to feel my feelings,” I mock, stepping around her. I press the foot leaver that lifts the lid on the kitchen trashcan and drop both of the Pop-Tarts and my remaining hope that I could salvage this shit-show of a day into the garbage with an echoing thud. When I turn around, I’m suddenly hit by an unexpected scent, and my stomach instantly rolls when I’m launched back into a memory of a time I had hoped to never revisit.
“Why the actual fuck does your garbage smell like purple?” I take a step back, waving the air from my face.
“It what?” Summer lifts the lid and peeks inside. “It’s a fresh bag. The only thing in there is your crispy Pop-Tart. I don’t know what I’m looking for here, guys. Purple isn’t a smell; it’s a color.”
“Either I’ve completely lost my mind to hunger, or – ” I point to a small glass sitting on the countertop just out of my arm's reach. “You’re morning drinking! Aww, Summer. What will Clementine say when he finds out? Mad Dog 20/20 isn’t very enlightening. For shame, how will you transcend with your magician now?”
“It’s a candle, you hooligan, and it smells like fresh summer berries, not whatever memory your drug-addled, deviant mind has just accidentally knocked loose.” She lifts the jar and inhales deeply, humming her enjoyment, and then thrusts it under Adlar’s nose. His smile melts away within seconds, taking every drop of color from his face with it.
“There it is.” I raise my mug and wink at him before taking a large gulp to settle my stomach. “Don’t go into the light, Adlar. It leads to the 90s… we barely made it out alive the first time. There’s nothing but sloppy head and boy bands back there. Run, don’t walk away.”
“Are the two of you doing the drugs right now?” Summer narrows her eyes at us, hugging her candle to her chest as if I’m a threat to its safety. This perky, blonde, pumpkin-spiced wind chime is ready to throw down to protect a candle that just yeeted me – against my will – nearly twenty years into the past. Luckily, I shook it off a hell of a lot faster than Adlar has – he’s still three shades of green – but we have both clearly just been the victims of some type of drive-by, modern-day, house-witch chemical warfare, and she looks ready to shed blood if we try to get rid of it.
“So –” She snorts. “It smells similar to some cheap wine you two probably used to drink in dark alleys with high crime rates, no doubt a situation you two chose to be in.” She waves her hand from me to Adlar and back. “Other than struggling with the guilt you must feel at remembering that you were both horrible deviants in your youth, you’re both physically unharmed, yes?” She reaches her hand down the neck of her shirt and pulls her phone from between her boobs – how did it… There was no room inside that yoga top; an entire cell was hidden between her tits. Black magic!
“I need to go. I have an eight a.m. meeting.” She tucks the candle into her giant bag she calls a purse. “Don’t put your bad vibes on my happy, Garret. It’s just a candle. The issue is yours to get over because it stays. You, on the other hand ” – she points at me with a grin – “are more than welcome to relocate.”
“Yeah, yeah.” The three of us gather our things and walk from the kitchen, through the side yard, and to the driveway. “Have a nice day, Summer,” I shout, climbing into the passenger seat of Adlar’s black Volvo while he walks her over to her nearly identical white one. “I hope you gather the most acorns today and gain Date the Elf’s favor!”
“Oh my God,” Summer leans her head out of the window, giving Adlar a quick Brady-Bunch-rated goodbye kiss. “We don’t do – we aren’t – what do you actually think I do all day?”
“Don’t care.” I tug at the hairs that have fallen free of the hair-tie and are now itching the fuck out of my neck. “Just don’t drink the Koolaid, eat any Tide pods, or cross to the Darkside. I’m not sharing my cookies.”
“Whatever. Go shape some adolescent dreams into possibilities, lover.” She grins wickedly at Adler and puts her car into reverse, shouting back at me, “Best you just avoid speaking to any of the students directly, Garret. I’m willing to bet HR will never be ready for you.”
Adler steps back and gets into his car, and we watch as Summer backs out of the driveway and drives off in the opposite direction from where we are headed.
“I think I would rather attend circle time at Fig-newton’s crunchy cult brainwashing complex with your wife than walk back into our old stomping grounds as an authority figure.” I flip down the visor, blocking out the sun. “Look, I shouldn’t be mentoring anyone. I'm not a teacher, and I definitely shouldn’t be anyone's role model.”
