Uneasy Hearts Weigh The Most

After dinner, Mr. Jackson suggested the two of us clean up the table since the two ladies had done all of the previous work. I had no objections, especially since maybe I could gain a hint or two on how to pick up his daughter…or, er…other girls. That might be a little awkward with her dad.

I would retrieve the dishes from the table and bring them in to him where he was rinsing them before putting them into the dishwasher with the other food-dirtied kitchenware. Unfortunately, we didn’t get a chance to speak about the female race and how to conquer them in masses, but did get a few good jokes in. He’s a pretty awesome guy. I would love to have him asmy father in-law one day a good friend.

Once the table was cleared and the dishes in the washer, I was free to go and do whatever I please. Which really meant finding Aubergine, calling my parents to let them know I hadn’t been abducted by some strange alien, and spend essentially however much more time I pleased with Aubergine or until she kicked me out (which really meant I sensed she wanted me to go and I left).

I found her curled up in the overstuffed armchair that permanently resides in one corner of her room, reading a book. I didn’t recognize it and therefore did not even bother asking what it was because she might not tell me – she does that sometimes. It must be a girl thing.

She didn’t look up from the unnamed book, knowing that I would be able to entertain myself and if I was unable to do so, I would pester her and she would give in. It’s a perfect circle, really.

Instead of texting someone or listening to her iPod or some other brain-numbing activity, I decided to observe her read. Her face isn’t perfect, nor will it ever be. I don’t believe in perfection though; if it could to be accomplished, then why don’t we all look like Greek gods and goddesses? No, I just believe in beauty, and Aubergine certainly is beautiful. Murky brown eyes that I know she dislikes because they look like “diarrhea”, elbow-length wavy brown hair that would never take to highlights without looking ridiculous, therefore keeping her away from any kind of hair dye, full eyebrows that compliment her face well, a strong nose that came from her father, and a small downturned mouth from her grandmother, oddly enough. While in a large group of people, Aubergine does not immediately stand out. It's in a small group that her looks shine through as well as her personality. Even though I have not thought about her as girlfriend material before, I had always thought of her as good-looking, the same way I can think my mom is pretty without it being incestuous.

“Shouldn’t you call your parents?” she asked, finally looking up from her book at me with questioning eyes.

“Mmm, I guess so,” I grumbled, suddenly feeling like doing nothing but laying here and watching Aubergine’s face make different expressions as she read the book.

I dialed the number I knew by heart and the phone rang thrice before my Mom picked up.

“Hi Zac,” she answered; oh, the wonders of Caller ID. Plus, I suppose she knew my phone number by heart. I wasn't really interested enough to ask.

“Hey Mom. Do you want me home at any specific time?”

“Well, it’s up to you, your father burnt his hand on the stove so I’m a little busy with that right now,” cue cusses in the background in the distinct voice of my father.

“I’ll be home pretty soon then I guess.”

“Okay, well, the door is unlocked, I know how you forget your key sometimes…”

“Alright, I’ll see you later Ma.”

“Bye Zac.”

I internally groaned and slapped myself, already regretting my decision to go home soon. It might be for the best though, considering I was having a difficult time controlling my thoughts…

“Well?” she asked, deciding the issue worthy of looking up from her book again.

“I told her I would be home soon.”

“Aiight homeslice, it don’t matter to me.”

“What are you, reading a ghetto slang book over there?”

“Oh, definitely.” She rolled her eyes. See? I knew she wouldn’t tell me what the book was. She’s just so predictable like that sometimes. I suppose I am too, though. Doesn’t everyone have a special thing about them that never changes?

I glanced at her alarm clock on the nightstand: six thirty.

“I should go, it’ll be dark soon.”

“We could always drive you,” she suggested.

“Yes, but I would rather walk home than take a car three blocks and contribute more to global warming.”

“Sometimes I question whether or nor you’re the same person I met all those years ago and maybe you’ve been taken over by hosts.”

“No, it’s the same me, I promise. I think I would remember foreign invaders coming into my body.”

“See, that’s the thing though. You wouldn’t remember anything, which is why it’s so creepy.”

“Okay Miss Science Fiction, I should get going.”

“I’ll walk you out or otherwise my mother will call me rude and impolite. Because I’m just so vicious all the time.” She growled to demonstrate her ferocity.

“Very scary,” I drawled, and responded with my own snarl and hands shaped to look like claws.

She began walking backwards out of her room trying her hardest to look like a dangerous animal.

“You’re epic failing at being scary, Gina.” I enjoy telling the blunt, honest truth sometimes. Not all the time, because by now I would have myself in really deep shit.

She had to turn around to walk down the stairs safely, but I saw a tiny smile cross her lips before her face turned out of sight. I responded with my own wide grin that she was unable to see, obviously, but it just made me happy knowing that I could make her smile even when I was rude to her.

Gina led us into the T.V. room so I could say goodbye to her parents and thank them for dinner.

“Zac is leaving,” she greeted her parents, neither of whom were paying attention to the blaring televison, her mother reading a book and father a magazine. At least it’s obvious where Aubergine’s reading habits come from.

“Goodbye Zac,” they said almost simultaneously.

“Do you need a ride home?” Mr. Jackson asked politely even though he knew that I didn’t live far away at all.

“No thanks, I’ll just walk.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, his face lined with concern about my safety; I would greatly appreciate it if people could stop acting like I couldn’t walk home by myself. I can look brawny when I want to, let me tell you.

“Yeah. Thanks though.”

“Any time, son. Thanks for joining us for dinner.”

“Thank you for it.” And this time I looked at Mrs. Jackson, because it was she who prepared the dinner (which was delicious).

“Oh, you’re welcome Zac.” She beamed at me and it freaked me out just a tiny bit. There was this loving gaze behind her eyes that wasn’t normal.

“See you next time then,” I said with false cheeriness, and began walking back to the door. Aubergine was right next to me and stepped out with me when I exited the house.

“See you tomorrow?” she asked, her cheeks flushed from the cold outside; darkness was approaching quickly.

“Yeah, I don’t see why not,” I replied.

She gave a tiny nod and outstretched her arms waiting for a hug. I gratefully stepped inside her arms, hugging her around her tiny waist as she gripped my shoulders.

“Be careful walking home!” she warned as I stepped off the porch onto the path leading to the driveway.

“You’re starting to sound like your parents, Gina,” I grinned.

If she had been next to me I know she would have given me a light punch on the bicep but because she was too far away to do that, she just stuck her tongue out childishly instead.

I grinned wide in response, gave a tiny wave, and turned left onto the sidewalk that would eventually run all the way to the front of my own house. On the way there, I thought about…well, I probably don’t have to tell you, I think it’s pretty obvious what I was thinking about; the same person that occupied my thoughts for quite a long time.