While Listening to Rock and Roll
BENTLEY.
A sad fact about my sad life was that I had only one friend - Harry - and he wasn’t even a true one. He was an asshole and a half, but I couldn’t risk losing him. Without his so-called “friendship” I would be completely isolated; alone without anyone to rely on. So instead of sulking home alone on a day where I should have been in school, I called Harry and told him to come over. He agreed because, hell, Harry liked having a reason to skip school, and arrived at my front door ten minutes later. He plopped onto my white couch and when he didn’t bother to respond to my greeting, I sighed and rolled my eyes. Typical Harry. He turned on the flat screen TV and flipped through channels, his feet propping themselves on the oak coffee table that my parents imported from Italy.
“Can you not put your feet on the table? It’s from Italy.” He looked at me with a scowl. “And you care, why?” And he did have a point; why should I care? Why should I care about what my parents liked or disliked - they didn’t take consideration of my likes and dislikes. Sure, they cared for me and loved me and bought me everything I wanted, but it just wasn’t the same. They weren’t there to see me grow; they were in New York City(my birthplace by the way) when I said my first word, which was “Anna.” Anna was my nanny at the time, and deep down I knew it hurt my parents to see my say her name before theirs.
They were in Greece when I took my first steps and had to get the video sent to their phone from my grandma. They were absent parents in all sense of the words and I came to live with it.
“Because my parents like it, and I sorta like it too.” Which I did, I wasn’t lying. It added a hint of brown to the otherwise-white living room.
“What are we even going to do?” Harry let his feet fall and began to bit on his fingernail - something he did even in preschool. “I was thinking about going to my guy and getting some weed, then just smoking.” I shrugged like it was obvious and walked into the kitchen. I opened the metallic fridge and looked inside for something to drink. I finally found a Coke in the depths of cheese and milk and grabbed it. I began to drink as Harry entered the kitchen.
“Yeah fine, sounds good.”
---
When we got back from Mason’s, weed in hand, I threw the leftover money onto the counter, and see Harry lounging on the living room couch - again. I scorned but walked towards him. I noticed he was watching some cop show on the TV and I shook my head. “You were a real dick today, what’s with you? You were a guest in their house.” Harry’s eyes go glossy when he turned to look at me.
“Will you shut the fuck up? I’m trying to watch TV. And whatever, a boy can try, can’t he?”
“Can you not put your feet on the table? It’s from Italy.” He looked at me with a scowl. “And you care, why?” And he did have a point; why should I care? Why should I care about what my parents liked or disliked - they didn’t take consideration of my likes and dislikes. Sure, they cared for me and loved me and bought me everything I wanted, but it just wasn’t the same. They weren’t there to see me grow; they were in New York City(my birthplace by the way) when I said my first word, which was “Anna.” Anna was my nanny at the time, and deep down I knew it hurt my parents to see my say her name before theirs.
They were in Greece when I took my first steps and had to get the video sent to their phone from my grandma. They were absent parents in all sense of the words and I came to live with it.
“Because my parents like it, and I sorta like it too.” Which I did, I wasn’t lying. It added a hint of brown to the otherwise-white living room.
“What are we even going to do?” Harry let his feet fall and began to bit on his fingernail - something he did even in preschool. “I was thinking about going to my guy and getting some weed, then just smoking.” I shrugged like it was obvious and walked into the kitchen. I opened the metallic fridge and looked inside for something to drink. I finally found a Coke in the depths of cheese and milk and grabbed it. I began to drink as Harry entered the kitchen.
“Yeah fine, sounds good.”
---
When we got back from Mason’s, weed in hand, I threw the leftover money onto the counter, and see Harry lounging on the living room couch - again. I scorned but walked towards him. I noticed he was watching some cop show on the TV and I shook my head. “You were a real dick today, what’s with you? You were a guest in their house.” Harry’s eyes go glossy when he turned to look at me.
“Will you shut the fuck up? I’m trying to watch TV. And whatever, a boy can try, can’t he?”
♠ ♠ ♠
xo.