P.S. I Hate You

Dinner passes okay, and Gerald even says the dinner- hamburgers and salad- didn’t taste too bad, so that’s good. And Benji was in a good mood after that nap, and so after the two of us cleaned up dinner we went off and played his favorite board game while watching the news.

Saturday arrives, finally, relieving me of my burdens. I’ve pretty much finished the training at work, now, and will start getting paid a little more, and that’s fun. But I couldn’t sleep most of the week and around Saturday at five, I get a call from Levi.

“You coming?”

I think about it. Coming where? Tonight? Why? “Only if there’s ice cream,” I sigh, flopping back onto my bed. “Why?”

“You didn’t know?” He asks in surprise.

“Uh, no?” I ask, feeling a little clueless. “What?”

“There’s a party tonight!” He laughs. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Why would I?” I sigh.

“Uh… cause I’ll be there?” He offers.

“You’re so full of yourself,” I tease him. “But I need some better reasons, okay?” And then I wait for his reasons.

“Um… er…” Silence as he thinks. I can hear a pencil tapping in the background. He’s probably bouncing his foot, too. “Well,” he finally says. “They said no smoking for once, we’re gonna play lots of games, and I’ll be there,” he shoves in playfully.

It makes me laugh how he pretends to try and flirt with me. “Not enough,” I inform him.

“Ooo, ouch,” he mutters, making me laugh lightly again. “Okay,” he says defeated. “I’ll bring you some ice cream.”

I perk up. “Yeah?”

“Baskin Robin’s Cookie Dough?” He asks.

“Always!” I chirp.

“Fine- and be ready by eight, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I roll my eyes. Since when am I late? “Where is it?” I add.

“Eh… somewhere new,” he shrugs. “Over in Meadow Grove, I guess?”

“Cool,” I respond. “See you.” And I hang up.

Ugh. That means getting out of bed… ooo, but not for another two hours. Ha. I flip over, set an alarm on my phone, and snuggle back in the covers.

And then I wake up when my phone alarm goes off. I stand up grumbling and stumble into the shower. Then I stand in front of my shower for a few minutes, letting my hair dry as I try to decide on an outfit. Finally it’s just some gray skinny jeans, red high tops, and some off-the-shoulder purple shirt with black bleeding stars all over it. I find some purple mascara that works and all, and then head over to Benji’s room where he’s playing on his old Game Boy.

“Hey, kid,” I say as I enter the room. “Winning?”

“Yeah,” he says, not looking up. “Why?”

I pause. “I’m going out again.”

He pauses, too, now, and swallows. “Okay.”

“Are you sure?” I bend to his level carefully. “I want you to be honest with me.”

He stops the game to look at me. “Well…” his brow furrows as the cute little kid tries to put his thoughts into words. “I don’t like it when you leave me, but…” he shrugs. “I leave you, too, sometimes, and you should have fun, so you should go,” he nods. “I can go over to Devin’s, then?”

I nod. “Just be careful and all, okay?”

Just then the doorbell rings and I hear the front door open. I ruffle my brother’s hair. “You’re a good kid,” I tell him. “Have fun, now.” And I scurry down the stairs to see Liam sneaking a banana. “Hungry?” I ask sarcastically.

He looks at me innocently, the food still in his mouth so he looks like a chipmunk. “No,” he says.

I chuckle, rolling my eyes. “No one would fall for that.”

He grunts, shrugging. “Whatever. Now, ready?”

“Ice cream?” I ask. He rolls his eyes and points at the obvious counter. “Yum!” I pounce on it, pulling the lid off and getting a spoon. “Yummy,” I moan, shoving a spoonful in my mouth.
“You’re welcome,” he mocks me with a wink. “Now get your booty moving to my car, lady.”

“Eh,” I mumble through the spoonful. Man is that cold! And delicious. Heh. He gives me a nudge, with a pear and two bananas in his hands, and we head out. Then I groan upon hearing the songs. “Not Metallica again!”

“Aw, come on, they’re awesome!”

“Maybe twenty years ago,” I tell him. “But no more. I mean, Queen is better than them.”

“I don’t think they’re even in the same genre,” Levi tells me.

“You’re right. Metallica sucks so much, no one can compare to them,” I smirk.

“Ouch!” He winces. “I need ice!”

I laugh. “You’re such a wimp!”

He grunts, pulling onto the road. “Whatever- and fine put Queen in. They’re at the bottom of the stack,” he adds as I start my search. Seriously, the bottom of his convertible Chevy from 86 is covered with CDs, its ridiculous. But after a minute or two, I find it and we start singing loudly from it, ignoring the stares we get and laughing when someone flips us the bird.

“And we’re here,” Levi sings, arriving in the richer part of town.