Have Kids, Then We'll Talk

Daylight peeked through the slits in my blinds and reflected in tendrils on the glass of the clock on my wall, making me quint and marring the view of its digits. Not that I needed to know what time it was anyway; all throughout the dark early morning it seemed to have imprinted itself in my heart. My eyes had been trained on its flawless facade since I came home, watching as seconds turned into minutes, minutes into hours, and the hours counting down until the time for sleep was over. Some might say that I had a problem and that I should be taking medicine for this insomnia, but they fail to acknowledge that it is a plague that most artists fail to elude, and unfortunately I am included in that category. I must metion, though, that it is not only creative ideas that formulate themselves into dimensioned works of art in my mind, but my thoughts are littered with just about everything. And by everything, I mean everything that has happened and is happening in my life.

I admit that it is a habit of mine to over analyze every situation, no matter how long its been since in transpired. The events, in crystal memory, would play themselves in my mind, all the outcomes extending into endings, until I decide to venture into another choice once more. It makes me regretful, but as others might digress, while my brother Aiden doesn't think at all before doing something, I think too much into every undertaking, which has embedded itself into my personality as my careful and guarded nature.

I slipped the covers off me to start yet another first day of school, and I was just walking to the bathroom to wash my face when I heard something bang against my door. Quite a number of times too. A sigh escaped my lips. Speaking of Aiden...

I forced myself to go to the door and opened it slightly to welcome the face of my dearly beloved brother, heavy sarcasm implied. His face, which resembled Dad's more than mine did, had a frantic and pissed expression plastered on it, which was how he usually looked while he was within these walls.

"Good morning to you too, Aiden," I spoke, seeing as he wasn't planning to.

His expression deepened, and he yanked the door open and pushed past me while I was in the process of giving him a wide berth. He raced to my closet, flinging the doors in mad pursuit of something, whatever that may be, that I was sure couldn't be found in my room.

"Where the fuck are my pants?!" He shouted as he tore through my clothing like a stray dog through a pile of garbage.

"What pants?" I asked in sincere confusion.

He set his jaw firmly, his teeth gritting together. "My uniform pants!"

"What would I be doing with your pants?" I was certain neither of us knew the answer.

He paused for an instant. "I dont know, Jared?!" More of a question than the scream I think he intended for it to be.

"I have to pick up Charlie in five minutes!" He raged as I was stunned temporarily at that one name. "Oh my fucking God...!"

Charlotte McCracken. Of course they were going to school together. Of course he would be the one to pick her up. It had been that way since we could all remember. But that didn't stop that surge of jealousy that stiffened my presence of mind as Aiden practically demolished my room in search of his elusive pants. It was when he stepped in the near vicinity of my paintings that I recovered my thoughts.

"Aiden, will you please calm down?" I said while trying to calm myself as well. "I have no idea where your pants are, much less what they'd be doing in my room."

He shook his head feverishly, refusing to listen. By the gods, he was even looking under my bed!

"I need the good pants! If I wear the old ugly ones Charlie will make fun of them!" He continued as I winced and watched until he finally banged his head.

"OW!"

I had had quite enough. I gripped his ankles and pulled him out, hoping he would finally see the futility of his actions.

"They're not here!"

He jumped up, that same insanity still shining in his eyes, and I knew he didn't.

"They so are!" He returned to his barrage of the closet. "That witch probably put them in here to, I don't know... mess with me!"

It took me a second to realize that he was referring to Mom.

"We don't even have the same pants size! And Mom wouldn't do that..." I reasoned.

"Oh yes she would!" He was quick to reply. "Remember when she changed all the Christmas presents to 'To Aiden, from Satan' so I wouldn't open them?" He said almost accusingly.

"Dad changed them back anyway!" I pushed him away from my closet, suddenly weary of him and his tendency to bring up the negative side of being in this family. "Stop destroying my room! Your pants aren't here!" I yelled just a bit too loudly for my preferences.

He appeared dazed that I actually tried to stop him, then proceeded with his defense. "I am not destroying any- THERE THEY ARE!"

He pointed towards the doorway, where I saw that Dad, who had come home from God-knows-where shortly before I did, was holding up a pair of dark-colored trousers with a smirk.

Aiden looked totally relieved, no, overjoyed, as he grabbed the pants from Dad's hands and scampered out of the room. I myself was grateful as well, and I mouthed a silent 'thank you' to Dad as I walked back to the bathroom.

"You're welcome. Need a ride today, Jared?" He offered as I closed the door.

"I'm going with Dick." Which was what we agreed on after our night out. "Thanks, though."

"All right then. Slay those fuckers, Jared. That's what you do during first days. Starts the year right." He said in his usual fashion, with a hint of mirth in his tone and what I imagined to be a wink as he left, as if everything was all right in the world, or in his world, anyway. It was a talent, I believe, to be some kind of instant cure to anything that's gone awry, and it was just among his countless others. It was one of the many reasons why I admired him, besides the fact that he was my father, though you may not catch me saying that in its exact phrasing.

I continued with my morning routine, which ended with me checking if I had everything I needed, which was only a few objects, because while Dick went to school without a bag because he was too lazy, I had already put my books in my locker beforehand and never brought any home because I finished assignments and studying in school. It left me with more time to finish paintings and compose on the instruments I mastered, and fortunately it hasn't failed me since.

I was just slipping phone into my pocket when I remembered.

'Morning, Charlie.' I texted, as I have every day for the past weeks now, in a way which I hoped was subtle.

'Jay. :)' The reply said, and I felt like smiling as our conversation continued through swift fingers and keys encoding messages sent via satellites. A simple pleasure, but one I relished in. I doubt it was a secret any longer, especially to a few like Dick and Madie, but my infatuation with Charlie was the sole source of sweetness I experienced, and it materialized more evidently with each day until I can hide it no longer, not as if her hold on my heart would relinquish itself anytime soon.

I almost didn't say goodbye to Mom and Dad, so absorbed was I with Charlie when I could almost smell her hair or behold her smile, when I walked passed their room, but when I neared I could almost hear faint sobbing and Dad's steady, soothing voice. I decided not to, for the time being, and headed straight outside, still enamored by my phone and the enchantress on the other end.

'Oh really? I should hug you, Jay.'

'You've endeared hugs to me, you know that? Usually they're meaningless and overrated.'

'Mine are special. And you get them for free - you're lucky.'

'I feel quite lucky. How do you manage that, Charlie?'

'It's a special talent.'

'You're special, in general.'

'I am? Why, thank you. You're not so mundane yourself.'

That was how our conversations usually went. The slightest streak of flirting, with both sides denying and preferring to be elusive, mysterious. She once mentioned that I was like an enigma to her, but truth be told, she seemed like a puzzle I could never hope to solve.

I had been walking in the hallways, my head still bent in concentration, when someone called my name. A familiar voice.

"Madie," I said even before I saw her.

She slowed in her stride and approached me.

"You're going to school early, where are you going?"

"Well... Dick's too hungover, so I need to pick him up," which sounded amusing, even to me.

"Oh, right." She responded hesitantly.

I felt a a bit guilty, since it was my doing that resulted in such. "It was partly my fault; I invited him to go out last night... against my own intelligence."

That surprised her a bit, I could tell. "Oh really? On a school night Jay? That's unlike you."

"Home was... troubling last night. I... needed to get away..." I said honestly.

Her glance went over my shoulder, to what I knew would be the door to our apartment.

"I understand."

I shrugged again, in an attempt to steer the subject from something I wished to forget for now.

"It's over and done with. Are you here for Cassie?"

She nodded, flicking dark hair from her face. "Yeah, going to drag her to Starbucks on our way to school."

She sounded as worn out as I felt.

"Tired? What were you up to yesterday?"

She scrutinized her fingernails. "Same old. Got grounded, sneaked out, partied with the girls." She began to chew on the edge of her thumbnail.

"I'm sure Uncle Mikey would have loved that," I said with a smile playing on my lips.

She stuck her tongue out at me. "You know, you better run along and get Dick. See you around in school."

She wrapped her arms around my shoulders for an instant, then with a wave, went on to Cassie's apartment.

"Later, Madie," I called out as I headed for my own destination as well.

After a few minutes and a short ride on my motorcyle, I had arrived in front of Dick's building, who, quite coincidentally, was just down the block from ours.

I slipped my phone from my pocket and started to text him, since he was probably still sleeping with no intentions of waking up. I was slightly astonished when he appeared just as I was about the send the message, looking like some refugee from World War II. So, yes, perhaps I was exaggerating, but the dark circles under his eyes and his clothes, which seemed to have come straight from the floors of his disorderly room, suggested otherwise. He hadn't even been able to iron his hair into a perfectly sculpted mess atop his head.

He peered at me through bleary eyes, as if dissecting me.

"You don't look... like hell."

"Well, I did warn you to not drink so much."

At that, he threw his arms above his head, pointing to himself. "Who am I?"

I grinned widely for the first time that morning. "You're a dickhead. Now, get on or we might be be late for class."

He began to look around, eyes landing on my motorcycle behind me, at which they widened promptly. He stared at me, shaking his head disbelievingly.

"I'm not pressing my crotch against your ass to get to school." He muttered with heavy emphasis on the last word.

"It's only perverted if you think of it that way." I paused for effect, trying to keep my grin at bay. "Are you thinking of it that way?"

I caught him off-guard, I was certain. It was one of our running gags that we kept between ourselves, which was mostly me taking jibes at his sexuality. We both knew the truth, but my friendship with Richard Wentz was one of the few things that I considered genuinely fun, and I cannot help but use this too much for my advantage sometimes.

His gaze became shifty. "Of... course not." His face relaxed and he grinned. "Fine, come on... I'll straddle you to get to a place I hate. So not worth it..."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, you're not driving in that state."

"I wasn't planning on driving in this traffic." He rubbed his eyes, yawning deeply, like a lost child who just woke up in the middle of the street, with no idea of what he was doing there. There are times, times like these, when he looked so innocent you almost couldn't believe what you know he's capable of. But I guess that's what actually endears him to you. He is a child inside, and of everyone I knew he has managed to keep it there despite all the terrible things that's managed to come his way. It makes him strong, and even respectable, if you can look past his sometimes arrogant and annoying exterior; speaking from personal experience, it was when I managed to do this that we actually became the best of friends.

"I was actually kind of going to skip today, but my dad woke me up and forced me to get ready..."

"Well, you obviously can't miss your first day." All right, moment over. I had to focus on the next impending task of getting us both to school.

"Hop on, and don't get too hard," I added, not missing a beat, as he sat behind me awkwardly.

"Trust me, Jay. You're not my type."

"And aren't we both glad for that," I replied as I put on my helmet. "Oh, I nearly forgot... put this on." I handed him the extra that was available for second passengers. "I don't want Wentz blood on my hands in case you decide to fly off."

He grabbed the helmet and shoved it on, grumbling about helmet hair or something of the sort. "My blood is sacred, kill me and you gotta watch out for a riot."

"Watch it, Dick. Your head might get too big for that helmet."

With that, I gripped the bars and turned on the ignition, speeding off without warning him. His arms immediately slipped around my waist, panicked.

"Are you implying something about my ego?" He yelled at me over the wind as we zoomed through the morning New York traffic. His hold tightened significantly as we went past a corner, and add that to the fact that gravity has been stealing the air from my lungs, I was suffocating.

"I'm implying that you need not hold on so tightly. I can't breathe, Dickie," I choked out.

He loosened his grip ever so slightly. "This is fucking scary!"

I laughed as I accelerated, feeling the pulse of energy in the ground we treaded on. "It's not as if you've never ridden one before."

"The last time I got on this thing with you you made sure to turn while going, like, 90 miles!" A whine streaked his tone, making me laugh yet again.

"It's a matter of control." I lectured, something I knew he despised with a passion. "You have to dominate the machine."

He only groaned behind me as I went faster, still smirking.

The road before us was caught in a red light, and as we stopped temporarily I spoke again. "By the way, I accidentally looked through your phone while you were dancing with Addie last night. I saw something very disturbing, to say the least."

"What did you see?" He asked suspiciously.

I dropped the bomb, holding my breath from the laughter that threatened to erupt. "Why do you have a nude photo of your dad in there?"

I prepared to hear his blatant denial, but instead he started sputtering, and I imagined his smile turning into one of horror.

"Wha- No... I don- Uh, what the hell are you talking about?!"

I couldn't contain my laughter right then, chuckles escaping my lips as tremors racked through my frame. I couldn't control it to the point that we had to stay parked on the sidewalk, and I removed my helmet to cover my mouth, which was still trapped in an eratic grin.

I looked back at him, seeing that he took his helmet off as well to reveal a reddened face.

"Are you fucking serious? Do you actually have a nude photo of your dad in your phone?" I questioned between bursts of laughter.

"Duh, NO!" He exclaimed defensively. "Uh... you were joking?"

Another wave of laughter spurned from my got and I rested my forehead on the handlebars, my body trembling.

"You're unbelievable, Richard Wentz. Just..." I was laughing so incredibly hard my stomach actually started to hurt.

He scoffed and pouted, crossing his arms. "Glad to be able to make you laugh, Emolegend." It would have been an insult if his sarcasm didn't contain any trace of amusement. "Just take me to school so I can skip first hour."

I hit his head playfully. "Oh, please don't. If continue doing that, you might repeat again. And I'll lose the only other person, aside from Addie, who has some form of sanity in our year."

He brightened up with false mockery. "Wow, that's a high compliment, being called sane by you. Thanks!"

"Well, don't let it get to your head. You're still going to need that helmet."

A moment later he responded with that ever-present complaint. "It still fits, jerk."

"Physically, sure it does."

"God, everyone is so mean to me," he said jokingly.

I put my own helmet back on as we sped off once more. "And you wonder why."

The streets were dizzying as they always have been, full of city pollution, both in sight and sound, but I presume it must have multiplied for Dick as we raced past skycrapers and buildings and people, blurring into colors of dirt and grime.

"I'm going to throw up on my desk, homeroom." He leaned his covered head on my back, clearly nauseated.

"I'll ask the janitor to bring a bucket," I offered, with the usual joke hidden within the statement.

He moaned desperately, and I worried that he actually might vomit, not in first period per se, but on the way to it.

"I'd rather you just sit in front of me so I throw up on you."

I kept my chuckles to myself, even as he grumbled as the school's imposing appearance loomed into view.

"I hate this place," he murmured with disgust.

"Well, don't we all."

"Bet I hate it more."

"I wouldn't count on it."

The spiteful tirade of camaraderie continued as we went to the registrar to get him a new schedule, which he conveniently lost, but I knew we were both glad we would not be spending the rest of the year alone. It was a twisted friendship, spawned from poking fun at each other as much as actually having fun together, but it was a friendship all the same.