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Once the table has been set up, Val's dad places the pot in the center of the table and asks us for our plates so he can fill them with the delicious food that’s making my mouth water. I’m about to take a forkful of the delicious smelling fancy rice, when Val and her dad, bow their heads in prayer.
"Dear Lord, thank you for the food we are about to receive and a special thank you for the new friendships we are making in our new home. Even if said company is a little belligerent.”
“Well put Mr. E,” I interject, ready to stuff my face and hide how uneasy I’m feeling.
It’s not like I know what the correct protocol is after they’ve said their prayers. We don’t pray at our house. Hell, if it wasn’t for Logan's mom once in a while forcing Logan, Carter, and I to help with her bake sales, I wouldn’t even know where our parish church was. I’m not sure I even believe in all of that. My parents sure don’t. As close as they’ve come to believing in the Almighty is the phrase on a dollar bill saying ‘In God We Trust.’
That’s about it.
Since Mr. E and Val didn’t blink an eye at my poor table etiquette, I start blowing on the fork, ready to see what the whole risotto fuss is all about. When I finally have a taste, my lids shut on their own accord, my taste buds dancing in delight, and a loud moan leaves my lips. It’s even more delicious than it smells.
“Eat slowly, kid, or you'll choke,” Val’s dad says teasingly after I burn my tongue on the second forkful, too eager to eat the delicious dish to waste time in cooling it down.
“Sorry. It’s been a while since I’ve tasted something this good.”
“Your parents don’t cook?”
“No, not really. Dad usually eats in the city. He's a big shot lawyer, so he does long hours. And Mom is usually on a liquid diet. Carbs are the enemy, after all.”
Val’s dad's brows furrow into a deep V on the top of his head.
“So they're not expecting you for dinner tonight?”
I let out a chuckle, between mouthfuls.
“My parents don’t expect anything from me, much less my presence. Mom is in Boca on a yoga retreat, and Dad has his big deal cases. No one's expecting me.”
“I see,” Mr. E utters, wiping his chin on his napkin before saying anything else. “Well, you're always invited here for dinner whenever you want. We’d love the extra company. Val and I end up making too much anyway. Isn’t that right, kiddo?” He winks over at Valentina.
The sincere smiles they throw at each other and then back at me make me feel all warm and fuzzy—the feeling turning addictive. So addictive, that I make up my mind to show up tomorrow night for dinner, too. If I have to choose between being stuck in my cold empty house and being here where I’m actually wanted, then I know exactly which choice I’ll be making.
Suddenly, I realize that Val moving to our street has been one of the best things that’s happened to me in a long time. I just hope she doesn’t get sick of me too soon, since I kind of like it here.
Carter
I snapanother shot of Quaid's joyful face as he bids Valentina farewell for the tenth time tonight. Everyone always thinks Logan is the smart one in our little trio, but from where I'm standing, Quaid has just enough brains where it counts the most. I let out a chuckle because his puppy dog eagerness is actually working for him. He couldn’t hold out for a couple of hours to spend time with Valentina, let alone a full day.
“Can I blame him?” I utter to myself as I take another picture of her.
No. No I can’t.
I wait for her to close the front door and stay rooted to my spot to see where she goes next. Having her house right next to mine, it’s easy to see her every move. When the light in her bedroom turns on, my heart does a double take. I watch her look around the room, still filled with boxes everywhere. She goes over to one and begins to unpack some books from inside, placing them on the shelf above her desk. I know I should turn around and leave her to her business, but my itching trigger finger just can’t get enough of her sweet face. As she continues on with her task, I take shot after shot of her. I don’t know how much time passes, but it’s enough to fill up my memory card.
I’m about to get a new one, when a light knock on my door stops me.
“Hey,” my brother calls out as he waltzes into the room.
“Hey,” I mutter back, placing the memory card into my laptop but not moving a muscle to turn it on.
One day, Gran is going to let me turn my bathroom into the dark room I’ve been bugging her about, but until then, digital will have to do. She hasn't been able to save enough money for me to renovate the bathroom to my new working station. I told her we could take a bit out of my parents' life insurance payout, but my Gran is insistent that money is used for my college fund. I know I’m too young for her to take me seriously when I tell her I don’t want to go to college. I want to use that money to see the world and capture the images through my lenses, not waste my time in stuffy classrooms learning about stuff I’ll never use. But soon, I’ll have a heart to heart with Gran so she understands that photography is where my future lies. Not that she doesn’t have a clue already. My hand has been attached to a camera since my mom gave me my first digital camera when I was just knee high.
My brother sits on my bed and looks around, while I lean against my desk, waiting for him to say whatever he came into my room to tell me. He doesn’t look drunk, so I know tonight will be a tearless conversation. Silver linings and all that shit.
“You want something?” I ask when he takes too long to spit it out.
“Yeah, I uh…a few friends of mine are organizing a trip to Mexico, and I told them I’d go.”
Of course, that’s why he's here. God forbid he spends any time with me when he's sober.
