The Cascading Waves of Caden Lee

35

SCARLETT PARKER

I'm laying on his bed when I meet his mom. Pillow rested beneath my head, sprawled out onto his dark comforter and waiting for him to get out of the bathroom. She walks in, pauses, pivots on her feet and turns my way.

"Scarlett?" She asks, "I've heard so much about you."

"No you haven't!" Echoes from behind the bathroom door, and it's enough to make the both of us laugh—but not enough to lessen the tension.

I don't know what to say, so we end up in this awkward stare-down as she awaits a response that won't come. Taking the hint, she continues, "My Caden tries to hide all the details, but I can see it all over his face whenever you're mentioned—that you make him happy."

Theres that warmth again, the fluttering of wings in my chest tickling all the soft spots of my soul.

"He makes me happy, too."

A smile curls at the corner of her lips, and she continues on her path to the bathroom, "Caden, honey? Me and your dad are leaving for the store. Is your friend staying over tonight?"

I hadn't planned to, but now that she says it, it does sound appealing. If not nerve-wracking.

His voice echoes from behind the bathroom door, "Uhm, maybe. I don't know." Theres the sound of shuffling, objects being moved around, before he continues, "we'll be fine."

She nods, humming in affirmation before leaving the room and shutting the door behind her. That's surprising, my Mom doesn't bother with closing the door. She just leaves it wide open, leaving me to get up and close it behind her.

Caden comes out of the bathroom, "Sorry about my mom."

"It's fine, really. She seems nice."

He nods, watching the way im sprawled out onto his bed, taking up room. I start to compress my body; squeeze it tighter to make room for him on his bed, but he plops down onto his desk chair before I can move my limbs.

"You sleeping over?" He asks.

I don't want to just invite myself, so I say, "Do you want me to?"

"Sure," he says, "not sure where we'd sleep, though, not much room on my bed." He pointedly looks down at his twin-sized mattress.

"We'll figure something out."

He nods, "Wanna watch a movie?"

"Downstairs?" I ask.

"In the living room, the only place we have a TV unfortunately."

"Sure," I stumble off his bed, "lets go."

We scurry downstairs—trying not to slip on the steep steps of the stairs along the way. When we make it downstairs he digs his hand into the couch cushions, making it to the third cushion before he makes a noise of affirmation and pulls out the rectangular black remote.

"What should we watch?"

I hate this question, "Well what do you have?" I never know what to say—name a random movie? What if they don't like that one?

"Uhh...lets see," he mutters, the buttons of the remote clicking beneath the pads of his fingers, "Netflix. We used to only have DvD's, but im paying for the subscription with my paychecks."

"I wish I still had my old DvD's! There was such good stuff on there. Really nostalgic."

He laughs, nodding in agreement as Netflix loads onto the screen. "Ours are stashed in the basement somewhere."