Visible Ghosts

16

The clock on the microwave turns to 9:30 and my legs cannot stop bouncing up and down on the bar of the stool. I slept in today and got up 30 minutes ago after going to bed a little after midnight. Now, while I finish my cup of caffeine, I await the tell tale signs of Zane getting out of bed and ready for the day. For a guy, he surprisingly has a bit of a morning routine on the weekends.

First, he gets up and does some stretches. I should probably start doing morning yoga too, but I haven't been able to force myself to yet. After he stretches, he lays out the clothes he's going to wear for the day, heads to his bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. Then every Sunday, without fail he shaves even if he did the day before. Zane doesn't mind having a beard or facial hair but I think he likes the clean-shaven look. Once he's finished, he'll put his clothes on and take his dirty clothes to wash. Then and only then will he make an attempt to talk to anyone else.

I know he won't change his habits even though I'm having an internal debate inside right now. When we went to bed last night, I agreed with going to meet James for lunch but now after sleeping on it, I'm not sure it's such a good idea.

Bob's dinner of all places? Is this a sign that he's academy or that he finally found the gem of a spot that makes the best damn chocolate chip pancakes in South Carolina.

Whatever the reason, it can't be good. Even if he chose the diner because he likes the food, there is a high likelihood that one of the academy boys will 1) be working or 2) be there eating. It wouldn't be surprising since both of Uncle's nephew's work there in their spare time.

Exactly six minutes and 48 seconds later and lots of nervous tapping on my part, Zane cheerily walks into the kitchen whistling a tune I'm not familiar with.

"Morning buttercup," He chirps, "Want a top off on your coffee?" He fills his favorite mug to the brim and brings the rest of the pot over to me. When I don't answer, he pours a little more and grabs cream out of the fridge. Putting enough in to make it the color that I usually drink. "You look razzled so you drink that and I'll drink the rest." With a wink, he takes a large gulp of his black coffee and empties the rest of the pot into his mug.

"Thanks." I mutter. Carefully tracking his movements across the kitchen, I watch him make a bagel and butter it. Noticing my staring, he hands me half of the bagel with a paper towel.

"Stop being so nervous. It's just lunch and it's at the diner." Zane tries to ease me. "Nothing bad is going to happen."

"I don't know what I'm nervous about." I admit to him. "I think that party just has me on edge and to know that James is somehow involved in that has all my senses on edge."

"Understandable. But you shouldn't just sit there letting your mind go into overdrive." He tells me softly. "You know you overthink and it's detrimental. Let's get out of here."

Taking another swig of my coffee, I place the cup into the sink. Getting out of the house will probably be a good idea. "Okay, let's do it. Where to?"

Zane grins at me, with a look that says 'don't kill me, you know you love me'. Narrowing my eyes, he pulls keys out of his pocket and answers. "So I might have only picked up ingredients for cowboy stew yesterday and not actual groceries. Let's go get food for the week?"

"You lazy son of a ..." I blow out a breath. "Okay, fine. Grocery shopping it is. But, you're carrying everything in when we get back." He nods in agreement. "And remember two trips are for the weak."

Sticking his tongue out, he leads the way to the garage. "Mama ain't raise no bitch. In fact, mama didn't raise me at all."

"That makes two of us." I learned early on in my childhood that my supposed mother was in fact my step mother. My birth mother died during birth and my father took me from the hospital before anyone realized I was missing. Even my step mother didn't raise me as a parent should have. I was beaten, isolated, and eventually left. Zane has a pretty similar story but even some of his memories make me flinch and my step mother put me through hell and back. Some small consolation is that my step sister Marie made it through without much fanfare. Even though we didn't get along, I wouldn't wish what I was put through on anyone else. Last I checked she was finishing up her last year at some community college and cut off all ties with our parents.