My Mother Is A Feather

"My mother was a feather."

Ryan knows it's well past three in the morning, he knows how Brendon gets when he stays up late, and he knows it will do nothing to tell him that, no, his mother was not a feather, but was actually a bank accountant. So he merely plays along. "Oh, so you come from a very fine line of royalty then."

He hums, and since Ryan is pressed up against him, he can feel the vibrations. "But my father, well, my father was also a feather, but one of the black smith kind."

"The black smith kind?"

"Yea. He was a black smith. My mom was a feather, but so was my dad."

Everything is quiet now, and Ryan focuses his eyes on the wall he knows is there, but can't see because it's too dark. "Didn't your mom work?"

Brendon laughs. "Of course, she was a feather."

He can't help but roll his eyes at this. "And what are you?"

Ryan really wants to go to bed now and Brendon ignores the question. Spencer and Jon are suppose to be here in a few hours, and Hobo, his dog, isn't going to like not getting out at his usual time. But he can't help but listen as Brendon starts to spin a tale.

"My mom came from a big ocean in the middle of a sea. My dad comes from a cabin he built himself. We go there sometimes, but only in the middle of March because...because we just do. Sometimes we go to the ocean in the middle of the sea too, I like going in November because that's when everyone tells stories."

The room goes silent for the second time that night. Even though both of the boy's eyes are heavy with sleep, they both refuse to close them. Almost as if they are too tired to sleep. So Ryan responds with; "what kind of stories did the tell?"

Brendon deadpans; "well," and leaves that hanging for a minute before actually answering the question. "There was this one and it was about this guy, and this guy...this guy, he sold fisherman supplies and shoes," he paused for a moment. "And-and-and-well...I don't remember the rest. Ry, you just had to be there," he yawns and then corrects himself. "You should have been there."

And after a minute, the older boy does wishes he was there, but he stops himself. It's late, he rationalizes, I should be getting to bed. Just as the thought processes through his mind, Brendon starts snoring.

He smiles, and turns around to get some sleep before Hobo starts scratching at the door, but not before mumbling: "I never knew your mother was a feather."