Page 26 of Finding Summer


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“Some days, I don’t know how we’re related.” I pick up one of my glasses and take a sip.

“Our mom fucked the same guy to have us.”

I spit the ale all over the table. “I think it’s a little more than that. We shared her womb for nine months.”

“See,” he grins while I grab my napkin and wipe up my mess, “you know we’re related.”

We joke around the rest of dinner, then grab a few cases of that Salty Dog Porter from that microbrew downtown before heading home to chill for the rest of the night.

Relaxing on the back deck, I take in the sunset. There’s a slice of orange in it tonight, with deep-golden rays piercing the sky. Even with the house torn apart, life is pretty damn good. We both finally have our dream jobs and dream house. Things are looking up for once.

Smiling, I kick my legs up.

“You gonna tackle more drywalling tomorrow or work on your laptop?”

I take a sip of my porter as Brendan grabs a second bottle and twists off the cap.“Probably a little of both. I need to get a concept I can turn in, so they don’t think I’m just sitting around on my ass here.”

Brendan nods a few times. “I’ll see if I can cut a few boards for ya before I head out in the morning. So, how many rolls of toilet paper do we have?”

“Why?” I ask with a weary edge to my voice.

He glances next door. “Think we could spare a few dozen rolls?”

I turn the same direction he’s facing, noting how all the windows are still dark. “Are you planning on repaying her for using her shower with toilet paper?”

“Yeah, repaying. We’ll call it that.”

“Brendan,” I shake my head, “you’re not twelve, and we live right beside her.”

“Exactly, easy access.”

“You’re not TPing the neighbor’s house.”

“Come on,” he wiggles his eyebrows, “you’ve seen how hot she is when she gets all fired up.”

“No.”

“Do we have any plastic forks?”

“No.”

“You know, you used to be fun.”

I shake my head. “We’re not pissing off our neighbors just because you think it’s funny.”

“I believe the word I chose was hot.”

Running my hands through my hair, I stand up. “I’m calling it a night. Please, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“But you never do anything fun.”

“Exactly. Don’t be out too long,” I glance to the horizon where a cluster of dark clouds are forming, “it looks like rain’s coming.” Raising my empty beer up, I head inside. At least the dining room wasn’t touched by our demolition, and we had enough space to put both our king-sized beds in there. It’s tight, but I don’t even want to think about what I’d do without my mattress for a few weeks.

After throwing my bottle in the recycling bin, I brush my teeth and wash off in the kitchen sink, then strip down to my boxers. Heading into the dining room, I flop down on my bed, my eyes already closed. One half-day of manual labor and I’m beat. I don’t know how Brendan does this every day.


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