Another Memory

I opened the cabinet, not really expecting to find anything but not really shocked when the only thing in it was a box of Oreos. Most of them were just halves, some missing the frosting and one part of the cookie, others were just bitten in half and left in the plastic.

Taking what was the breakfast of champions, I sat at the kitchen table in the middle of the room, after pushing old pizza boxes to the floor. The room bad; ashtrays and cigarettes were scattered along the counter, two-liter soda bottles were piled by the back door next to the garbage can, empty bags of chips were laid out haphazardly on the table, and a pair of pants were thrown across the back of a chair.

Spinning around on my stool – there wasn’t a matching set of chairs, only what we found and brought home that cost less than fifteen bucks surrounded the table – I looked for the clock, which wasn’t on the wall anymore. I scanned the kitchen and found it on the counter next to the sink, back popped open with one battery in it.

Sluggishly I got up after throwing half a cookie in my mouth, and went searching the draws for extra batteries. One of them had silverware, though most of it was in the sink, and the rest were just junk draws – seven pairs of scissors, eight hand-crank flashlights, twenty four loose buttons, a sewing needle, five rolls of duct tape, ten boxes of matches, six lighters and no batteries.

I marched down the hall and headed for the closet, bracing myself before opening the door. Luckily nothing jumped out and nothing flooded onto the floor and me. When the light was switched on I reached up for the cardboard box on the top shelf. I pulled it down and opened the lid, rummaging through the contents for a while before finding the old Game Cube controllers. I opened the back of one and pulled out the batteries, then made my way back into the kitchen to put them in the clock. When they were back in I cursed myself silently as the green, digital numbers flashed, waiting to be reset.

“Mother fucker,” I sighed, and dragged my feet back into the hall.

By the time I was at the door to Gerard’s room, I had picked up some more empty cans of beer and Mikey’s old sweatshirt. I turned the knob slowly and peeked my head in, straining to read what the time it was. When I managed to make out five fifteen on the Roman Numerals and walked back out and shut the door.

When the clock said five twenty five am – we all usually ran late, it was best to set it ahead – I hung it back on the wall and started the dishes. It was the last bowl that slipped out of my hands and clattered to the floor. The shattered pieces dropped around my feet, and when I went to collect them one sharp edge slit my finger.

"Jesus Christ," I groaned and went bouncing into the bathroom.

"What the fuck?" Mikey asked, popping his head inside. His tired eyes bore into mine through the reflection in the mirror.

"Morning babe," I smiled, wrapping a Band-Aid around the cut.

"What the hell are you doing?" Mikey snapped, stepping inside and running a hand down his face. "It's five forty in the morning, on a Saturday might I add, and you're jumping around the house?"

"Well," I smirked, "I was eating Oreos and then finding batteries for the clock, which turned into cleaning the dishes and cutting my finger."

"That's what that was," Gerard grinned lazily. He came into the bathroom and reached around me for his toothbrush, and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "You broke something, huh?"

"I didn't mean to wake you guys up, I was just cleaning up the mess you pigs made," I explained, placing the bandage box back on the shelf behind me. "We need to go grocery shopping, darlings."

Mikey followed me into the kitchen. He slumped down in a chair and put his head on the table. "Are we out of coffee?"

"Should I repeat myself? We need to go grocery shopping!"

"Stop," he mumbled. "It's too early for your sass, DJ."

"Hey, aren't I supposed to meet that Frank kid today?" I wondered after a moment of silence.

"Who?" Mikey asked.

"Your friend, dipshit," I said opening the fridge and talking out a juice box.

I sat across from Mikey as he pondered about Frank. "Frank...I have a friend Frank? You sure he's my friend? 'Cuz I have, like, two and I don't remember a Frank."

Gerard walked in, obviously more awake then his bother. "She means Frankie."

Mikey finally lifted his head. "Oh, Iero." He made grabby hands for my juice box so I slid it across the table. "Yeah I guess."

"You guess?" I laughed.

Gerard stalked off and came back in with Mikey's glasses. "Yeah, what are you talking about?"

He took the frames and out them on, blinking before continuing. "Yeah, I don't want you scaring him."

"Mikey!" I gasped while laughing, kicking his foot lightly.

He finally cracked a smile. "You got cash on you? I want waffles."