Driving Backwards

Gabe woke up two weeks later in his parents' basement, the covers above his head as a habit. He peered out of them into the pitch black room; one of the perks of living in a basement.

And got himself up from his bed, pulling the curtain from the one and only small rectangular window that was located toward the ceiling. He could see it was snowing. Great, he thought. He didn't care much for cold weather, even though he'd lived in it most of his life. Some day he'd move somewhere where it was hot in January. Like Florida.

Fumbling around in his bed-side drawer, he found his pack of smokes and shook one out, putting the stick between his lips and lighting it. His parents didn't care that he smoked in the basement, because they smoked just about everywhere in the house. He lifted the window up as a precaution anyway.

Taking a drag, he looked around for some proper clothes to wear. It was always fucking freezing in there in the morning, and having the window open made it worse. He finally pulled on some pants and put on a long-sleeve shirt and a hoodie. Not his purple one, of course, because that one just happened to be in the possession of one eighteen-year-old kid in the outskirts of Chicago. Instead, it was a black one that would have to do for now. He tapped the ashes from his cigarette into the ashtray and set it between his lips once more. He was bored.

Midtown was taking a slight break, leaving him jobless and alone. After the last show they'd played three days ago, they had all gotten piss drunk and spray painted some guy's ass. So they decided they needed a little time to regroup and relax. They couldn't get arrested.

"Gabriel Eduardo Saporta! Get up here right now!" his mother barked.

He let his head fall back dramatically and put out his cigarette, groaning. He was twenty-three-years-old and his mother still treated him as if he was fifteen. There was no end to her constant tirades: "Why don't you get a real job?! Stop getting drunk and coming home at four in the morning! Why don't you get married?!" The list went on and on. He didn't have a real job because he didn't want one, he wouldn't stop coming in a four in the morning until he was dead, and she just needed to except the goddamn fact that he was never going to get married.

"¡QUÉ?!" he shouted.

"¡No preguntarme que las preguntas apenas hacen lo que digo!" she retorted.

Damn Hispanics. Can't keep their voices down to save their lives.

Huffing, a trudged up the stairs to see her in the kitchen, chopping meat. He decided not to mouth up once more; you just don't understand how scary a Spanish woman can get when she's holding a knife. "Yes, mom?" he asked.

She put the knife down, wiping her hands on her pants. "You're going to move in with Abuela," she told him.

"What the fuck?!" he demanded. He hated even going to her house. She smelled like nasty moth balls and told stories about life in the old country that no one gave a damn about.

"Language, Gabriel," she warned.

He sighed. "Why?" he questioned.

"She's sick," she informed him. "She needs someone to take care of her."

"Dude, why me? She has other family! Ashley and Destiny can do it," Gabe said.

"No, Ashley is in college and Destiny is still in school. You have nothing. No responsibilities, no relationships. Papi and I decided this would be good for you," she explained.

"Dude, she lives all the way in-"

"I don't care, Gabe. You're moving in her house in two days. She has a big guest room. You really need to get your life together or you're going to end up alone," she stressed.

"I'm not going to end up alone! I'll find someone!"

"Someone who can put up with your lazy ass? I doubt it. Sorry, honey, it's true."

He glared at her and stomped away, feeling much like he did in his teenaged years.

Guess some things just never change.

* * * *

In a completely different place at just around the same time, a bit of a different scene was occurring.

"Dude, seriously, how fucking hard was that Algebra test?" Bill asked, falling into step with Siska in the hallway.

Siska eyed him. "I thought it was easy," he stated simply.

Bill glared at him. This was typical Adam. "Seriously, you suck balls," he said.

Siska raised his eyebrows. "Only for you, babe," he retorted.

Will scrunched up his nose. "Ew." Siska often made comments like this to purposely make him uncomfortable.

"Well, maybe if you studied, or, I don't know, paid attention in class once in a while, you'd know what you were doing," Sisky lectured.

Will rolled his eyes. He knew that, sure, he could study and get good grades, but why do that when you could do other things and get decent grades? "Ya, ya, I know," he mumbled offhandedly.

"So are you coming over later?" Siska questioned.

Will stuffed a hand in the pocket of the purple hoodie he had worn every day since Gabe had given it to him. Sometimes he would just stop and smell the lining, trying to hold onto the scent that was fading more and more as the days passed. Soon, there'd be nothing left, and Will's heart would break on that day. The attraction he had for the jacket simply couldn't be understood by anyone but him. It was something comforting that was always there when he needed it. It wasn't going to run away. "I can't. I gotta do homework," Will replied.

Siska scoffed. "Right. You? Puh-lease."

"Ya, well you know what they say. There's a first time for everything. I can dream," Bill defended.

"And they also say that dreamers often lie," Sisky returned.

"Well... whatever. I'll see you later," Bill said, walking off to his class.

"See you," Siska called.

With that, the conversation was ended, leaving Bill feeling more confused with himself. He was starting to see that his fascination with the bright purple jacketand Gabe was unconventional. He knew he shouldn't feel so attached to somethingor someone that he couldn't even speak to.

What could he say? He'd always been a weird kid.