Spider Webs - 7. Chapter 7: Striking A Deal

I sneezed.

Sneezed.

Sneezed again.

My fingers found what they were searching for. I depressed the old push-button light switch lying along the wall. The feeling that coursed through me as the lights came on suddenly made me feel like I had been living those billions and billions of years ago when on that one day of the week God spoke up and said “Let there be light.”

But that was probably because I was electrocuting myself. At least the lights came on, much to my surprise. Now if only the dust I’d stirred up when I’d torn the old boards off the wall blocking the front door would settle down. That was another surprise too. The front door had actually been intact, hiding behind protective boarding.

It wasn’t just one door either, like I’d expected. It was a set of double-doors, looking as old as the rest of the outside of the house, bubbled and stained glass still set into its frames. I got my hand off the old light switch and looked around. I must have been in what used to be the living room. But that didn’t make sense because it wasn’t very large.

No, it had to be the foyer. Grimy marble flooring was visible throughout the room partially covered with rotting carpets. Dust and dirt was everywhere, not just on the floor but on the marble colonnades and wooden walls that looked to be rotting through in some spots. Spider webs were just barely visible in the corners of the room. Water lay in puddles on the floor.

A pair of marble stairs curved gracefully up to the second floor on my left and right; another set of double doors was in front of me, beneath the balcony that was the second floor.

I sneezed again. That’s when I noticed the doors off to my left and right. I picked the door to my left. For some reason, the double doors in front of me made me feel slightly squeamish, it probably had something to do with the fact that the ghost wearing my mother’s face was standing in front of the double doors. I picked the door to my left and went through it.

I found myself in a dining room, in much the same state as the foyer. Dirt, dust and grime were everywhere; the carpet in the center of the floor was rotting through; there were wooden chairs laying on their sides or perched, as if waiting to be used. Even to my untrained eyes, they appeared to match the long, square dining room table that lay in the center of the room. A chandelier hung above the table, casting a feeble glow when I found the switch that turned it on. A cracked marble fireplace; framed by more rotting wooden walls, was to the right of the door that headed into the foyer. Another door was just beyond it, probably heading into the room that was beyond the foyer doors. I ignored it and selected the next door that was on the other wall.

I found myself in the kitchen; cracked tile covered by a coating of leaves was the first thing I noticed. The cause of the mess became obvious. One of the windows was uncovered; glass lay on the floor. Then I noticed the kitchen setup. Everything was old, and when I say old I mean it. It looked like everything was from the 1940’s, 50’s and 60’s. All of it was just bulky and unconventional compared to today’s standards. Even the sink faucet looked huge, rusted out and, in general, just unsanitary. My point was proven when I turned one of the handles and watched rust-colored water come pouring out of its spout and into the nasty sink.

Along the back wall I found stairs heading down into what I assumed, based on what I could tell from the rest of the age of the house, would be a wine or coal cellar.

Boy was I wrong on both counts.

The basement was actually a full basement. It also looked like it was the only area in the house that was clean. That might have been because it looked like it had just recently been renovated. Steel pylons were spread evenly throughout the basement, supporting the house. Brand new cinderblocks formed the foundation that the house sat on. In front of the cinderblocks, spaced every three to five feet were two by fours hugging the wall, nailed to the bottom framing of the ceiling. The basement floor was a light gray, marking fresh cement.

Unopened crates were strewn about the basement. A couple of them had carpeting rolled on top of them, covered with plastic tarp, I presume, to protect the carpeting from the elements. A brand new fuse box lay in a sack on one of the crates that, when opened, revealed yards and yards and yards of electrical wiring, light switches and outlets.

Another crate opened to reveal marble tiling; the next one had wooden paneling that I presumed would be to replace the rotting walls. None of it made sense.

I turned around and spotted a wet bar that had been set in a corner of the basement. I shook my head; deciding to stand by my original thoughts. None of this made sense.

I bolted back up the basement stairs and into the foyer, bypassing the double doors and my overactive, ghostly imagination by taking the door on the right of the main entrance; right into a half bath. The toilet was definitely old; the water basin hung from the back of the wall, above the partially shattered toilet bowl. The sink and mirror were also shattered. It was like someone had thrown a fit in the half-bath one day.

Another door in the bathroom led into a short hallway and then into a door that led to a library that was equally demolished. Rotting carpets were on the floor, underneath a desk and near another marble fireplace. Wooden shelves were set into the wall, lining the room from one end to the other. A shattered mirror was above the fireplace, framed in silver with a design that matched that of the silver sconces on the wall.

Leather bound books, obviously old, were scattered and rotting on the floor and shelves. There was even a book still on top of the desk, a page marked by a thin leather bookmark. The room still lacked what I had come looking for though: Answers.

The final room beyond the library definitely wasn’t what I was looking for. It was a sun room, or something, because weeds and flowers sprouted from the wall. Part of the brick walling beneath the windows stuck out of the wall; the center of which was hollowed out, forming a long, shallow basin filled with dirt for planting.

A statue was in the center of the room, surrounded by another shallow wall. On closer examination I discovered it was a fountain; the pond was filled to the brim with decaying leaves and dirt that covered the tile flooring. The smell of rot was heavy in the room. I shook my head and backed out of the room.

I went back to the foyer and shot straight up the marble stairs. The first room I stumbled upon was a full bathroom; in as bad a shape as the one downstairs, the toilet in here was intact. There were four toothbrushes in a toothbrush holder by the sink, soap on the wall and near the tub. Moldy towels were in a built-in cabinet on one of the walls with a bottle of mouthwash. Toothpaste that looked absolutely ancient was in the medicine cabinet along with medicines that looked like they belonged in the 1940s.

I walked back into the hallway, feeling a cool draft against my skin as I did so and checked out the rest of the upstairs. There were four bedrooms and another office on the upstairs floor, all of them full with beds and dressers, linens in closets, clothes in the dresser drawer, blankets on beds that were collapsing; the smell of rot and mildew was strong.

It was all confusing. None of it made sense.

Sucking up the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, I walked through the double-doors and into what looked like a ballroom living room or something. Couches done in red felt lined the wood walls, more rotting carpet lined the marble floor; half the light bulbs in the sconces on the wall were blown out. There was a silver tea-set on one of the tables and, upon inspection; I found that it was darkly stained with left-over tea leaves and mouse-droppings.

Then I was by the fireplace at the front of the room, inspecting it and its surrounding woodwork. What I saw was intriguing, and yet, very confusing at the same time. None of it made sense. There was dust and dirt on the walls, that much was obvious to the naked eye. But what wasn’t so obvious was the lighter square patterns of dirt on the wall, like photos or paintings had once hung on the wall and been taken down, recently too.

But who would take a bunch of photographs and pictures off walls and keep everything else in the house? It was almost like…

“Micah?”

“…someone abandoned the house.”

I turned at the sound of the voice saying my name, still somewhat surprised by my revelation. The only question on my mind was why would someone abandon a house and leave all of their belongings? One would think that, a house like this would have been broken into and robbed a long time ago.

But all those questions on my mind fled at the sight of Ken standing at the front of the room, looking around a bit nervously. I could see the front doors behind him, standing wide open. Night had fallen.

“Jeez, we’ve been looking for you for two hours now,” he muttered.

I had, apparently, been exploring the inside of the house for a long while now and lost track of time.

“Oh,” was all I could think to say. Mostly because I suddenly remembered why I was out here in the first place and, rather than feeling any more anger, I just felt slightly embarrassed instead. I was fifteen years old and I’d thrown a temper tantrum.

I was definitely embarrassed, which is why I turned around and went back to staring at the walls. I didn’t know what to say to him. I guess he didn’t know what to say to me either because we just stood there in silence for what felt like forever, only the sounds of his feet scuffing the floor reaching my ears.

But they weren’t his feet. They were my feet, and the silence got to me.

“I don’t get it,” I finally said out loud.

Silence was my answer. I turned around and looked at Ken, who was just staring at me, his mouth opening and closing for a moment.

“Get what, Micah?” he finally managed to get out.

I gestured at the inside of the house. “This,” I stated. “I mean, it’s still… completely and utterly full of crap that most people spend their entire lives collecting; but it all lies here, abandoned. What kind of people can…just…abandon their…”

I couldn’t complete the sentence. My mind was still awhirl. My emotions were building up again and I couldn’t even think.

“House and belongings?” Ken asked.

“No…Yes…” I was confused, “Their… children…”

Except, I wasn’t talking about children; I was talking about a house. Why did I say children? I didn’t have a bloody clue. I was still confused.

“It’s just….lying here, abandoned, waiting for people to come back to it, and no one seems to care…”

I shut up. I didn’t know what I was trying to say; I didn’t even know what I was feeling. Except, being in this house made me think about my dad; did he even know we were missing yet? We’d been gone for more than a week now. Did he even care? Somehow, I doubted it. If he had, he’d have been here by now, or something.

“Micah…” a sigh escaped Ken’s lips. “Sometimes…things that we don’t understand happen, to us as people, to our belongings, or our house…that wear us down. Sometimes we break and fall, other times we’re just worn down and abandoned…waiting for someone to come around and rebuild us, make us better, that’s when we need help…and sometimes…” another sigh, this one exasperated, escaped Ken.

“It’s just life, Micah, and it sucks, and it happens, and I’m sorry.”

I blinked, stared at him confused. “You’re sorry? For what?” I asked.

“For being a jerk since you got here. You were right, you know.”

“I was?” I asked. Yup, he’d definitely lost me, or maybe I’d lost me.

He nodded. “Yeah, you just got here, and you didn’t ask to be here and…and you don’t have to stay here, if you don’t want too.”

“Oh…” I didn’t know what to say to that. “Okay.”

He didn’t look happy. “Mrs. Emerson’s up at the house. She’ll relocate you if you want.”

“Okay,” I said again. I felt like a broken record.

Ken nodded. I decided to ignore him. But he didn’t go away. He just stood there, shuffling his feet like he wanted to say something. I was too busy thinking about the house and wondering when someone would come along and put it back together again.

“You know…I think this is the first time I’ve been in this house since I bought the property,” Ken remarked. I guess he was trying to make conversation. I didn’t want to make conversation. He did, however, have my attention. I guess he knew it too, because he kept talking.

“The couple I bought the property from invested as much money as they could into the property. They redid the main house itself, and then they turned their attention to this house, starting with the basement. There used to be a wine cellar and a coal cellar down there.”

Oh-kay…I guess that made sense. I’d have probably started with the basement too, then.

“But…” Ken stopped talking abruptly, a sad look crossing his features.

I just continued to stare at him, my curiosity piqued. Apparently Ken wasn’t going to keep talking though.

“But what?” I finally, begrudgingly, asked. Ken smirked, looking like the cat that ate the canary. I should have known he was baiting me. I glared at him.

“Well, they ended up selling and moving down to California. Said the weather was getting to them. Plus they wanted to be closer to their grand-kids.”

Oh…and what a lame ending to a story. I told him so too.

“Anyways…Mrs. Emerson…”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, “I guess I should go up to the house and grab Joel so we can go and he can get some sleep.”

“Uh…Micah… Joel’s not going with you, if you choose to leave. He’ll be staying here.”

Well that was like a slap to face. I frowned, ready to toss out my objections to this entire thing and throw another hissy fit if necessary, but I didn’t get the chance. Because Ken let out a short bark of laughter even as a frown marred his face.

“You know, my wife always wanted more kids.”

Yeah…so…what did that have to do with me?

“But, she never said anything about it, and for awhile after Reese was born, well, we kept trying and trying, but nothing... and I felt bad because I couldn’t give her more than Reese. But, we were happy with him.”

It took me a moment to think about what he was saying, but when I finally got it all I could think was ewwww. I really didn’t want to hear about this guys’ sex life.

“But lately, it seems like…she’s been happier all of a sudden…”

I chose that moment to interrupt him. “You know you can’t keep him, or us, right?”

He fell silent; his mouth kept opening and closing, like a guppy trapped in the open air.

“Right?” I asked again, pushing the issue, “I mean…Mrs. Emerson said it herself. You guys can’t keep us…We’re not staying here for forever, I mean…no one knows what’s going to happen, and my dad…he’s going to come looking for us sooner or later. Just because I ran away from home and took Joel with me doesn’t mean he’s going to let us go.” Then I laughed, like an idiot. Because if I really thought about it, knowing him the way I did, he probably would just let us go. Just like someone had let this house go, and I guess it really didn’t matter because I’d let my dad go first.

And then I shut up, because I didn’t know that with a hundred percent certainty, and it kind of hurt, and sucked, not knowing what my dad would do, or what was going to happen next.

“Yeah…I know we can’t keep you guys, but my wife…” Ken gave me a look, as if he was judging whether or not I was worthy of a secret. I guess I was. “She’s got so much hope…and it’ll hurt, when she realizes that we can’t keep you guys…and I’ll be there to pick up the pieces, but…look, you don’t have to go right now. You could stay and…”

“And be miserable because you don’t like me?” I asked him, sharper then I intended.

He let out another sigh. “Look, I said I’m sorry…I wasn’t…I don’t want to see Elizabeth get hurt, and this will hurt her…but…look, it’s like this house.” He gestured about the room, and I followed the gesture because, well, just because it was something to look at besides him.

“It’s sat here, abandoned for years. It has a past, and it’s rundown. Cobwebs, dirt, mold, it’s everywhere. But, if it found someone with the time and inclination…a little love and a lot of hard work could rebuild the entire place, make it look brand new all over again.”

I was skeptical of that. I mean seriously, the house looked like shit.

“So, yes, my wife will be hurt when you two leave, I imagine the prospect of you leaving tonight is already hurting her, but, she’ll be okay. I’ll just…I don’t know…”

When he shut up, I was glad. He was making me feel guilty

He wasn’t finished though because he kept looking at me like he wanted to say something or wanted me to say something and I didn’t really have anything to say. I was too busy thinking about Joel, and how much I loved my little brother, and how, just seeing him the past couple of days, it had become obvious to me that he was in a better place. But he still needed me, he was my little brother, and I needed to take care of him. I needed money and…and…

Ken was leaving.

“Three hundred bucks,” I blurted out just before he got out the foyer doors. He turned around and looked at me. What the hell was I doing?

“Three hundred bucks?” he asked.

I didn’t have a clue what I was doing.

“Yup,” I said nodding my head at the same time.

“To stay?” He was getting it. My heart was thumping in my chest now; there was a thrill of excitement in my nerves. I felt tingly all over.

“Yup,” I nodded again. “But that’s just to consider staying,” I added. I didn’t want him to think I was desperate or anything.

He was gaping at me now. “Micah, what do you possibly need three hundred bucks a month for?”

A month! Three hundred bucks a month wasn’t going to get me very far. I’d end up being here for forever. Nope… that wasn’t going to work. I needed…

“A week,” I replied.

He leveled a stare at me that, if looks could kill, would have probably left me dead where I was standing. I couldn’t blame him. I wanted him to say no. I wanted him to reject my offer; I wanted him to reject me. Because rejection would be okay. He could say no, and I’d go with Mrs. Emerson, and I’d find a job, and save up money, and come back for Joel. Because he was mine.

“And what, young man, could you possibly want three hundred bucks a week for?” His shoulders had stiffened now; his voice was a bit flat, and cold. I shivered, but pressed on ahead. Maybe I could push him instead and he’d beat the crap out of me and then Mrs. Emerson would have to take Joel out of this home too, and we could go elsewhere. Together. I hoped he’d beat the crap out of me.

I shrugged my shoulders at him in response to his question.

“You have to have some reason for wanting the money,” he responded; still cold.

I finally came up with the only response I could think of. “You don’t need it, I mean, look at your house, and your car, and…and…”

“You think we’re rich?” he interrupted.

I nodded my head at him. Yup, I definitely thought they were rich. “Besides, you’d have to give me an allowance anyways. It’s only fair!” I informed him.

He was squinting at me now, coming a bit closer. I was getting nervous. Would my plan work? Would he kick the shit out of me so I could go back inside and tell Mrs. Emerson what he’d done so me and Joel could go off on our own, somewhere else?

Maybe I could sweeten the deal some. Offer to sleep with him a few times a week, give him a blow job or two every now and then. I mean, sure, I’d never done anything like that before with anyone, but it wouldn’t hurt to try, would it?

“How would giving you an allowance be fair?” He asked.

I opened my mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “You give one to Reese, right?” I asked.

He was even closer now. He nodded his head, looking angrier now.

“See, if he gets one I should get one too. Besides, I had to clean out your fridge, and do the dishes, and I cooked, and…”

He was five feet from me now. I closed my eyes. Butterflies were making my stomach hurt.

His feet stopped in front of me. I could hear him breathing loudly in front of me. Oh please hit me.

Hands fumbling around with something. The sound stopped. I couldn’t take it anymore. I opened my eyes…and gawked at him.

“There has to be rules.” He informed me, holding out a wad of bills in front of my face, “and you have to act like family. Got it?”

Holy…shit…what the hell was I supposed to do now? I snatched the money out of his hands.

“Right…rules…” I replied a second or thirty later. “Uhm…okay, you and Elizabeth aren’t allowed to cook. Ever.”

What? It was like, seriously the first rule I could come up with off the top of my head. But, it didn’t appear to be earning me any points with Ken, because he was glaring at me again.

“And you have to be home by ten, eleven on the weekends,” I added, peeking up at him. Why did he have to be taller than me? I hated that everyone was taller than me.

“And…we can discuss those later. This is just for me to consider staying here.” I stepped away from him, stuffing the money into my pockets as I did so. This conversation needed to end. Ken scowled at me but didn’t argue. He just turned smartly on his heel and walked away. “You got twenty minutes to decide,” he threw out over his shoulder, “and for the record, I’d have paid a lot more to keep my wife happy,” he said just as he crossed the threshold into the foyer and out the front door.

I could only stare at his back, panting now as my speeding heartbeat continued to pump in my chest. I’d have to remember to hit him up for more money later on, and, in the meantime I think I’ll just forget that I was ever considering offering him sex for money on the side.

But the fact that he’d actually given me money in the first place was something I was going to have to deal with, because it left me in a quandary. I had to pay Elizabeth back for all the stuff she’d bought me earlier. I didn’t think she’d appreciate the fact that I was now blackmailing her husband either.

I needed air; and answers for what I was going to do now. But more importantly, I definitely needed air. I bolted out the doors and into the foyer, hitting the light switch on my way out as I grabbed the front door and, slamming it shut behind me, got onto the wrap-around front porch and bolting those steps, into the field that lay just beyond them, right under the night stars.

Night stars that were twinkling at me, appearing brighter than usual in the cool night air. It was almost like being back home. No city lights to ruin the heavenly view. A view that I normally got from sitting at my mom’s grave in the evenings on a particularly bad night when my dad would get off work really early and be drunk before Joel and I even got home from school.

I visited that graveyard on those evenings a lot back then, staring at my mother’s tombstone and just talking to her. Joel would always be sitting under a big statue of an angel, a place where I made him sit while I visited her.

I made him sit there because I never wanted him to realize how much I was missing Mom. I didn’t want him to see me cry.

I missed home; I missed my mother. I wanted to go back there, and talk to her. Would she have understood why I had done what I’d done, taking my little brother and my dad’s truck and running away the way I had? Would she want me and Joel to stay together? What would she think of the Windleton’s and their upscale lifestyle? Would she like them? Could she hear me, all the way up here in a place where she wasn’t? I didn’t have any answers to the questions that were running through my mind.

A glance at the main house revealed a tiny figure standing on the back porch watching me, his outline made obvious by the dim light coming from the interior. Joel was waiting for me. I didn’t go to him right away. Just sat there and watched him and the movement of shadowy figures that could be seen through the windows.

I let out a sigh and, finally unable to bear the distance anymore, walked across the field and joined him on the back-porch, a cigarette dangling from my mouth.

“Hi”I greeted.

“They’re arresting Patrick,”he informed me immediately, his bottom lip sticking out.

Oh. Good. I shrugged my shoulders at him. “So?” I asked him.

“And they’re waiting for you.”

“What’re they waiting for me for?”

Joel shrugged his shoulders at me, his bottom lip sticking out even more before he somehow managed to suck it in and make his mouth stop quivering. He knew I hated to see him cry. When he cried, someone usually got beat up.

I think I would have enjoyed beating the crap out of something or someone. But, there was nothing around here to beat on.

“Micah!”

“Okay, okay. Just…gimme a few minutes and…I dunno, I’ll think of something,” I finally muttered aloud, frustrated because…because Joel thought there was something wrong and wanted me to fix whatever it was, and I wasn’t sure I could, much less even wanted to.

“Good.” Joel went back inside, leaving me out on the porch, all alone again.

I was in another quandary, and peering in through the window, I was finding that I really didn’t want to do anything. I had three hundred dollars in my pocket and whatever was left in my wallet. It would be so easy to just walk away from the place.

Unfortunately, when Joel went and sat on Elizabeth’s lap and her arms wrapped around his tummy, and that smile that he used to only give me lit up his face, it quickly became clear to me that he had no intention whatsoever of leaving. It felt like my heart was breaking.

Patrick didn’t look like he was having any fun either. There were a couple of deputy sheriff’s in the house along with Avery and some bearded old guy, dressed in overalls and boots, his hair as white as snow, that I didn’t know.

“Padrig, be’ uffar ti’n meddwl ti’n neud? Ti’n dwl? Buasa ti’n celwydda i’r farnwr fel ‘na?”

Even though I couldn’t understand a word the guy was saying, I could definitely hear him through the window; but…who the hell was Padrig?

“Na Taid,” was Patrick’s reply.

“Be’ dwi’n mynd I wneud ‘da ti? Be’ bynnag ddigwyddith, ti’n mynd nol I Gymru penwythnos yma’” Whatever the old guy was saying apparently made Patrick unhappy, because next thing I knew Patrick was shouting.

“Na! Ni fedra di gadw anfon mi nol ac mlaen. Dwi’n dddeunaw mlwydd oed” Yep, Patrick definitely sounded angry

“Padrig, paid siarad i mi fel ‘na.” the old man replied.

I guess I wasn’t the only one who didn’t get along with my family… though in this case, I think it was safe to say I wasn’t getting along with anyone. Ken was staring at me through the window, along with Elizabeth and Joel. Reese was geeking out on a laptop. My laptop, I think. Mrs. Emerson was glaring at me, and somehow they were all doing a good job of managing to ignore whatever was going on between Patrick and the old guy. Even the deputies were occupying themselves, in this case by standing in a corner of the room and looking at family pictures.

“Dwy'n casau ti.Gad lonydd i mi!” Patrick shouted, just before turning away from his old man and, I think if he wasn’t wearing handcuffs, he probably would have folded his arms across his chest.

“Padrig!” Something in the old man’s tone had changed, going from anger to shock. He reached out, looking like he was going to grab Patrick. I shivered; before I knew it I was opening the back door and going inside, letting it slam loudly behind me. The four lambs on the couch jumped at the noise. Mrs. Emerson turned and glared at me. The deputies and Avery went from staring at Patrick and the old man over the ruckus they were making to staring at me.

Patrick was looking at me too, a bitter look on his own face. Even the old man was looking at me, his arm falling to his side while I stared at him. But he didn’t look angry. He looked… upset and sad. But it was none of my business. I let out a breath.

“Hi,” I greeted, acting for all the world like nothing was going on. I kicked my toes against the floor. No one greeted me back. I guess I didn’t blame them.

Mrs. Emerson opened her mouth. “Mister Raines,” she greeted, she sounded extremely unhappy. The look she was giving me just verified it. I didn’t respond

“Micah,”Joel signed.

I ignored him and started moving, not sure where I was going. Except, apparently, to bed. Reese stood up before I could get past the couch and held out the laptop he was holding. He looked nervous too.

“I got it hooked up to the internet for you,” he mumbled, before practically thrusting it at me. I grabbed a hold before it dropped to the floor, surprised. “Uh, thanks,” I mumbled, wondering what the hell that was about.

“Right, good night, then.”

It was the only thing I could think of saying.

“Mister Raines,” Mrs. Emerson said again; apparently she was trying to get my attention. I got to the stairs and then turned around, looking at Avery. He was already looking at me.

“You might as well let him go,” I said with a gesture at Patrick, “I mean, yeah, sure, he lied to the Judge, and I’d have been more than happy to go with you… but I’m not leaving. I’m not leaving Joel. He’s my little brother. I gotta take care of him.”

It was the only thing I could think of to say, but I meant it, and I guess Avery saw that because he gave me a solemn nod and gestured to the two deputies with him.

One of the deputies informed Patrick he was lucky and uncuffed him; Patrick pulled his arms out from behind his back and rubbed his wrists, giving me a funny look as he did so.

“I’m still not happy with you,” I snapped at him, and then took a breath. I wasn’t going to make a good impression on anyone if I continued to act like a brat. “Just…whatever.” I couldn’t look at him anymore, because I wanted to yell at him for dragging me into this house and getting away with it. But you know what they say: Life is never fair.

“So…Good night everyone. Good night, Mrs. Emerson.” I looked at her as I said this, not sure what to expect from her. But she didn’t say anything back, just gave me a nod. I guess she was accepting my olive branch offering, for however long it lasted.

I turned and made my way back up the stairs, laptop in hand and feeling more certain than ever that I was uncertain as to what my future had in store for me here. All I knew was that, here was where I was staying.

The old man’s voice caught my attention and pulled my focus away from my thoughts.

“Mae'r bachgen yn yr hyn yr ydych got mewn trafferth ar gyfer, Padrig? A ydych yn sicr ei fod yn werth y drafferth? Rhif ... Peidiwch ag ateb hynny. Dydw i ddim eisiau gwybod. Dewch draw, rydym yn mynd adref.”

“Nid wyf yn gwybod. Efallai. Ga i aros y nos?” Patrick replied in that strange language, making me wonder just where exactly it was that he was from.

“Be’ bynnag. Behafia dy hun. Cofia ti’n gweithio yn y bore,” the old man replied, shaking his head at the same time.

When I got to my room I plugged the laptop into an electrical outlet and, giving the clock that didn’t even read nine yet a disgruntled stare, I ended up playing with the computer; it was a strange mixture of fascination and repulsion, because it didn’t seem like there was anything to do on it. But that was until I discovered YouTube. Let’s just say that, a search on boys kissing boys can be a very fascinating thing.

I wanted to kiss a boy. Someday.