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"Well, they were absolutely terrible," he confessed. "My grandma was the worst trickster the family had everseen."
"Oh really?" I raised my eyebrow athim.
"Oh yes," he said. "Worse thanme."
"I find that hard to believe. Did your grandmother ever convince an innocent bystander to help paint someone's car pink and then throw them under thebus?"
It was Texas' turn to raise his eyebrow. "You're not innocent, so don't even try that – but yes, she was much worse than the pink BMW prank – which was your idea, by theway."
"Itwas–"
"Do you want me to finish the story or not?" heasked.
I gestured for him to continue. "Please, by allmeans."
"Thank you." But he didn't immediately continue. Instead, Texas moved so that his back was pressed against the wall. Somehow, I ended up between his splayed legs, leaning sideways with my shoulder against his chest. It was nice. It was comfortable. I found myself relaxing into hisembrace.
"So, my grandma was the worst at pranking people," he started again. "It's a wonder my grandfather ever asked her to marry him." I laughed, and he chuckled too, shifting me against him more comfortably. "Despite her pranking, he loved the shit outta that woman. I've always wanted their kind of relationship. They were perfect together, but they were onlyhuman.
Sometimes, she would push him too far and he'd have to take a day or two to calm down. Usually, he just locked himself in the den to watch football." I looked up and curled my lip at that which made him laugh again. "I'm going to have to stop looking at you if I'm ever going to finish thisstory."
I smirked but didn'treply.
"Despite that, my grandfather was always the easiest. He'd go away, and he'd come back all better. But when my grandma was mad...that woman could throw a fit. She'd throw dishes at the walls and watch them shatter and then she'd break some more." I frowned and shuddered, remembering one of my mom's episodes from the month before. I knew she was sorry. She couldn't control it. Now that she was on professionally monitored medication she didn't have them somuch.
Texas glanced down at me curiously, but I shook my head at him. "Go on," I said. "I'mlistening."
He waited a moment more. When I didn't say anything else, he continued. "Well, every time she did that, I got so scared, I would hide in the den with my grandfather. Sometimes, he'd amble out, watch her for a bit before coming into the den with me. He said it was to let her work it out herself. As I got older, though, I started getting picked on more in school. I hated it. I was so mad all the time. I was a lot smaller then and I couldn't fight back as well either. Now, though, I'm more level headed." I snorted, and he poked me in theside.
“A lot of the time, I'd come home from school just seething. Even if I didn't get into fights, I'd still be riled up. I'd be so angry that I'd feel exhausted by it. Well, of course, with my issues at school, I ticked off my grandmother a time or two. She never yelled at me. She'd simply leave the room, go into the kitchen, and I'd hear dishes breaking. When she came back, she'd be as calm as she ever was, and she would tell me to go to my room or she'd make me clean up the mess. She'd be normal. But it wasn't enough for me. I wanted to rile her up. I felt like I needed someone to yell at me, that I needed someone to be just as mad asme.”
“What did you do?” Iasked.
Texas was quiet for several moments before he finally replied. “What I did isn’t all that important,” he said. I wasn’t sure if that was true, or if maybe he just didn’t want to tell me. “But my grandma was a smart woman. Finally, after a lot of bullshit–” I raised my eyebrows at that, but he continued, “– she sat me down, and you know what that crazy old lady told me?” I shook myhead.
“She told me, ‘Texas, if all you’re gonna be doin’ is goin’ around and gettin’ mad at every lil’ thing, then it’s not the world that’s the problem. It’s you.’” He shook his head at the memory, and I smiled. His voice was so funny when he talked in what I assumed was supposed to be an elderly southern woman’svoice.
“I was so shocked when she said that, I thought she was blaming me for everything that was wrong. I still get mad. I get mad all the time. But she taught me to control it and to let it out when I need to let it out,” hesaid.
“How do you control it?” Iasked.
He looked down at me, dark eyes glinting in the dim lighting of my bedroom. “She told me the secret was to buy a bunch of cheap glass ornaments – she had a ton of shitty glass plates and china. Whenever she got too mad, she’d go, and she’d break some and then she’d clean up the mess and she’d feel better. She said the act of breaking something is what’ll shock you out of your anger. Cleaning it up will bring you out of itcompletely.”
I scrunched up my nose. “I don’t want to break anything,” Isaid.
He laughed. “I’m not saying you have to.” Texas looked at me and then, he turned his gaze away. “But that doesn’t mean you should keep it all bottled upeither.”
Silence descended around us. Then… “Do you still breakthings?”
“All the time,” he admitted. “Not because I’m angry, though, usually. I don’t get angry as much anymore – though it stillhappens.”
“What do you do when you get angrynowthen?” I asked, turning to look up athim.
Texas’ face pinched tight for a moment as he stared across the room. “How about I tell you later?” he offered. I blinked at him as he started to pull away and get up. “I’m gonna go get some rest, we’ve got an early daytomorrow.”
“Right,” I huffed. “Extratraining.”
“It really was a lenient punishment,” Texas said with asmirk.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” I shot back as he opened my bedroom door and steppedout.
With a chuckle, he leaned back in. “I just bet you will,Princess.”
