Cold Summer

Matt finally swallowed his pizza his face red from embarrassment as everyone surrounded him asking him if he could breath or if he wanted a drink. He walked out the door slamming it as he went.

John looked at me with an apologetic glance, “Sorry bout that he doesn’t take too kindly to attention.”

I nodded like I understood.

“See you in the morning John.” Dad said closing the door as John made his exit.

“Do you work with John?” I asked slightly awkward trying to figure out what was going to happen next.

“Yes I help him out on the ranch it’s the next house on the right from ours.” He explained making himself comfortable on the coach.

Ours, I pondered this and then went and sat on the opposite side of the coach from him and watched the American poker championship all afternoon.

I woke up blurry headed looking around trying to figure out where exactly I was. Then it clicked I sighed and slipped out of bed to be hit by the cold. I looked down my white tattered t – shirt went half way down my thighs where goosebumps where raised. I quickly picked up a pair of old sweats and a large sweat shirt.

As I put the sweatshirt over my head I hopped around trying to get one leg in my pants. Finally I had my sweat pants on and simply had to put my arms through the sweatshirts sleeves.

TA DA!

I smiled that wasn’t the first time I had tried to achieve that goal, but it was the first time I had done it with out falling. I walked forward and then tripped to the ground. I graved the shoe that had been in my path causing me to trip, swearing at it I through it so that it landed in the corner of my new room. I got up slowly still cursing.

I made my ways down the stairs and into the kitchen. Where I screamed bloody murder.

Matt turned around from the stove glaring at me, “SHUT THE HELL UP!”

I stood there breathing heavily, I hadn’t recognized him. Then I sniffed the air…Smelled like…Bacon? “Why are you cooking bacon in my father’s kitchen?”

“Because some people have to work which means not sleeping in till ten in the morning.” He sneered at me.

“Do you remember what the question was?” I asked him.

“And I-"

“Didn’t answer it.” I finished for him.

“Fine! Your mother’s a psycho and expects your father to cook you every meal and then watch you eat it since you have some type of eating disorder.
Since he works with my dad I got the wonderful job of cooking you breakfast lunch and super. I don’t know where the eating disorder’s coming from since you obviously didn’t lose any weight.” His long answer was sarcastic with a smug look on his face.

“HEY!” I shouted, I was not fat. I wasn’t a tooth pick I was easily in between and I happen to like it there.

“What I’m just saying that –"

“Stop okay? You’re just going to make me want to kill you more if you continue.”

“And what are you going to do beat me with fairy dust?” he shot back sarcastically. My jaw locked he was calling me short.

What. An. Ass.

I sniffed the air and then said coolly, “The bacon’s burning.”

Matt swung around surprised and I slipped into the living room where I turned the TV on and watched the beginning of Dawson’s Creek.

“Spare me.” Matt said as he walked in with two plates full of bacon, scrambled eggs and toast.

I glared at him, “I like this show, suck it up.”

“Will Joey be with Dawson? Or will she choose Pacey? Or Eddie?” he said in a mocking voice laying my plate on the long coffee table in front of us. I raised my eyebrows at him, looking at me nervously he asked, “What?”

“For someone who doesn’t think to highly of the show you sure do know the names well.” I said looking away well crunching on a piece of bacon.

“I’ve. Never…Shut up.” He sighed and began to eat not saying a word as we watched Dawson’s Creek.

When dad finally came home he came with John who physically pulled Matt out of the house. He was lying when he said he hated Dawson’s Creek, it happened to be a marathon of the last season and it was getting down to the last couple minutes of the last episode.

“Shit dad! All I want to see is if she picks Dawson or Pacey and then we can go!” Matt yelled, as his father clawed Matt’s fingers off the door jam where Matt was holding on for leverage.

John rolled his eyes and let go, Matt regained his posture and straighten his t- shirt and was just about to walk back in when his father tackled him to the porch.

“Get off of me you fucking big ass nut case!” Matt yelled at his father as John got up and pulled his son up with him. “Fuck dad I’m your son not your fucking personal tackle equipment!”

“Matt be a man.” His father replied. Matt sneered at him wrenching himself from his father’s grasp and walked towards the truck ahead of his father. Me and dad stood together in the door jam watching.

“Are they always like that?” I asked as I washed the dishes and dad dried.

“Matt’s mum died when he was seven…They act like that towards each other all the time but you’d never see a stronger relationship between a father and son.” Dad replied taking the plate I passed him.

For a moment I pondered our relationship. But quickly moved on.

“Matt seems…” I trailed off not knowing the best word for it.

“Angry? Yeah his been like that for awhile now.” Dad explained his tone softening as if it was his own son.

“Why?”

“I can’t really tell you that, it’s his thing not mine.” He answered putting the last plate in the shelf and then walking out of the room.

So many secrets.