12 o'clock midnight 5 days after Thanksgiving and I'm sitting around a table with..not my family.
Instead, I'm surrounded by the meanest, most eccentric, and weird people in my life. My friends. Don't ask me why friendsgiving (mixed with christmas kind of) became a midnight ordeal. We just ended up gathering around the turkey for a midnight snack.
We're all here besides Janey, who is still recovering from her break-up and has apparently began getting into some stuff she shouldn't, so is under the supervision and care of her parents. We've all sent her care packages and called her, but no response, so we're backing up and letting her deal with her issues and work it out.
Jesse hasn't shut up about his cruise. His excuse for not informing anyone was that he 'practice eloped'. Apparently he's been debating about whether he and this guy would like to elope for their future wedding. Rushing in much? A cheetah wouldn't even run into a relationship that fast.
"To quote Elvis," Loretta says, crossing her arms and shooting daggers at Jesse from across the table, a fierce and extremely jealous lioness. "Only fools rush in."
"I'm a fool!" He stands on his chair, throwing his hands up. He starts 'around the world'-ing. "Fool, fool, fool." We all watch in utter awe, admiring his guts. And his glutes, the guy's been squatting like mad. I strive for that kind of motivation, but's an unreachable goal right now, so I'll live with my pancake.
I rub my temples as Bishop speaks up, "Fools don't dress that cute."
I must admit, Jesse's outfit is making me quite envious. He's in a crop-top with large blue puffy sleeves, and matching shorts, mesh connecting the two. He honestly looks like he's about to perform a hit single or something, but instead he's just hear among my burnt cookies and Loretta's hell casserole. No, that's not a nickname we gave it. That's the name she gave the recipe.
I notice Bishop's eyelashes, which have to be inches long, "Where did you get those done?"
She scoffed, "They look nice."
"Yeah, if you're planning on going on Toddlers and Tiaras or something. They're bigger than you're eyes," Loretta crosses her arms.
After once again stating is case Jesse finally sits back down, and we start discussing our careers, which I'm not thrilled about. My progress is not much, my grades far frome noteworthy. My motivation shrinks day by day, not to mention if I so much utter Kori's name, I will be bombarded will squeals about how they could make a movie about our enemieship.
"My culinary school is amazing," Vicky notes, taking the mashed potatoes and dishing them out into a glass container, "Though you wouldn't know it from these mashed potatoes. Not my best work."
We laugh. Vicky got into a top-notch culinary school in Boston, so we don't see her too often unless she's on break. She says she wanted a career with minimal school time so she could get out and travel the world. She's in an on-and-off with some guy name Travis, who seems like a solid guy, but he's enlisted and could get sent at any time, so she's holding off on making anything serious.
She brings the mashed potatoes over to the table, and they look signifigantly better than the disasters that surround it, blowing our culinary tragedies off the table. My rumballs sit on an elevated pedastol; not metaphorically. Containers have been stacked together to raise my rumballs above the other kitchen crimes to receive praise. My cookies didn't retain this fate, having been set aside.
Vera is in the corner, smiling at her phone. A smile from Vera is a rare sighting, photo-worthy even, so we all perk up at the sight. Bishop smirks, "What are you smiling about, miss gloom doom?"
Vera turns away, shooting all of us a communal dirty look. We all just laugh.
I look at the table, filled with monstrosity left in oven too long, or too little. Jesse has brought some obscure salad he learned how to make on social media, and it looks like it's alive. It was funny, watching us all put down our horrendous mistakes on the table, but I then realized this is our meal.
And it's a lot less funny when it's going to be in your digestive system.
Just as we're about to shovel our faces with things that taste as well as durt, Jesse stops us, "Wait...dont't we have to do the thing?"
"Huh?" Loretta look at him.
"Say grace? I ain't sayin' no grace." Bishop says, crossing her arms over her chest and shuddering in fear.
"No, no," Jesse waves him arms, apparently trying to get them to speak for him. "The thing were we go around and like...say..."
"Oh!"
So we awkwardly looked at each other. Going around and saying what you're thankful for is more of a family practice in my opinion. But Jesse, being the family-oriented sweetheart he is, wants us to join hands and unite in our blessings.
I take Loretta's hand, noticing a new skull ring on it, black and marble, shiny. I then take Bishop's hand, super soft. We all look at Jesse, waiting for him to start since it was his idea in the first place. He thinks for a moment, then get's a devilish smile on his face.
"I, Jesse Caddel, am thankful for my WONDERFUL AMAZING BOYFRIEND WHO TOOK ME ON AN ALL EXPENSES PAID CRUI-"
Everyone collectively groans and Loretta pairs hers with angry stomps and sticking her tongue out. He defends his actions as we all scold him for talking about his amazing perfect little blonde guy who apparently has a bottomless wallet and 6-pack, not to mention perfect pearly whites.
We all go around, saying what we're thankful for.
Vera- Her cats
Vicky-everything
Bishop-us and her brother
It gets to Loretta, and she perks up, apparently forgetting what we were doing. She realizes. "Huh? Oh yeah, yeah, uh...Micheal Jackson...and...Panda Express."
We all look at her, perplexed. I just blink, then prepare for my turn, considering what to say, "Well, first and foremost, I am thankful for all of you. I am also thankful for my parents, my spot in university, my amazing fashion sense, and..Cheryl."
Everyone claps and I half-bow. But Jesse has an eyebrow raised like he's waiting for me to continue. I just shrug at him, confused about what I left out. He nods his head forward, urging me to go on. "What?" I finally say.
"How about your husband-that-isn't? Kodi or whatever his name is."
I scoff, "I'm not grateful for Kori. I'd be grateful for his demise, though."
Loretta gives me a look and mouths 'liar'. I punch her in the arm and she laughs and pushes my chair, we continue to fight like sisters until Bishop interrupts, urging us to quit it and eat our food.
So we start on our hardly-a-meal. Loretta's hell casserole, Jesse's suspicious dumplings and alive salad, Bishop's blue gravey, and Vicky's mashed potatoes. And of course the bird, which was a communal effort. It took the smoke alarm going off twice, Jesse getting scolded for sticking his fingers in it, and Loretta screaming because she thought she saw a bug in the stuffing.
We all pretend to like what we're eating, but the disgust and honestly confusion as to how we were able to construct food this bad is evident on our faces. My parents kitchen has turned into a crime scene again the professional chefs of the universe.
Gerold saunters in to meow for scraps, takes one look at what's on our plates, and turns around and walks right back out, tale in the air, which I've found he does when he has sass. Don't ask me how you can have sass and a diaper at the same time, but whatever skill that takes, Gerold has mastered it.
After teasing each other over our creation, we hear a knock at the door. We all shoot each other looks of confusion. My parents are both at my grandparents house for 2 days and none of us invited anyone.
"Who is that? Did any of you invite someone extra?" I stand up.
"It's probably jesse's little action figure." Loretta smirks, pointing her fork towards Jesse, who immediatly denies it.
"He's in Massachusetts with his uncle!" He argues.
"Relax, I'll get it." I walk to the door, peeking out of the glass panels. No on visible. "Huh. I don't see a soul."
Loretta stands up too, walking over to me. "Did we get ding-dong-ditched without the ding-dong?"
I crack open the door and someone jumps out of my moms butterfly bush. A blur of red hair runs into the house and I'm left bewilered. Anthony himself walks over to Loretta holding this string of mistletoe, putting over her head.
She stands there paralyzed with confusion, we all are.
He puckers his lips out as far as possible and stands on his tip-toes to be lip-level with her. She just steps away, 100-yard stare on her face. I'm still standing there with the door open, frozen with absolute and utter shock and horror.
Before I can say anything to Anthony or save Loretta from his chapped lip, Kori comes running in, panting, hands on his knees, wheezing. I look from Anthony, to Kori, to Anthony, and back to Kori again.
Jesse raises an eyebrow, "So this is your prince charming out of costume, huh? Not bad, not bad at all." He winks at Kori, who looks at me, confused.
"What the hell?" I hiss at everyone.
Kori sighs, "Long story. Basically, Anthony knew you guys we're gathering tonight, he heard you on the phone talking about it and giving your address to one of these....clowns, and I saw him lurking in the bushes. I told him not to do it, and not to crash your get together, but I knew he was going to, so I...I tried to stop him, and...yeah."
We all blink at him, Anthony having squeezed Loretta in a big bear hug. She looks horrified, and is looking at me for help. She has become his soul target and he has put his fedora on her head as some sort of symbolic measure, maybe it's a replacement for a ring, who knows.
She holds up her hand, "Did you leave me this?" She points to the skull ring I noticed earlier. "I found it outside the dorm."
He nods enthusiastically and she gags, taking it off and handing it to bishop, who gladly takes it, not caring who bought it.
We all sat down in the living room. Anthony pestering Loretta, Jesse and Vicky gushing about their lives, Vera and Bishop having a dark and morbid conversation about whatever was on the news, not abnormal for them.
So that leaves me and Kori, awkwardly staring at one another. I clear my throat and fidget with my shirt, then the chains on my waiste. He clears his as well. "I....uh,...I made progress on the case."
"I told you to relax." I kick him. He groans and kicks me back.
"I had nothing better to do."
"Why aren't you with your family?" I blurt out, forgetting that it could be a sensitive reason. I've never had the best social decorum, but damn I really messed out here. He gets quiet, adjusting his collar, picking up a mug of hot cocoa I offered him, not really knowing what else to give him but feeling like I needed to be hospitable, and takes a sip.
I take a sip of my own hot coacoa. Seem like I hit a nerve.
"Don't think they very much want me there," He sighs.
Oops.
I look at the football game on TV, pretending I'm interested, the awkward tension so thick you can feel it in the air. I have absolutely no knowledge on football, but I'm staring at the sweaty broad-shouldered men like my life depends on it, anything to defer myself from the geeky guy Infront of me who's trauma I just re-opened.
Not that I have regard for Kori's feelings or anything.
God, my denial is worse then Loretta's about the whole mucinex mascot ordeal. Even still, I'll never admit. I look down at my feet.
Anthony stands up and looks and the time. "Wowdy-woah! It's much past the time I usually hit the hay, mind if I leave folks?" He pulls his suspenders, making them snap against his chest like rubber bands. We all shake our heads and he gestures for Kori to go too.
Something in my heart pulls on me, not wanting Kori to go just yet.
"Um, you have to go?" I say, trying to say it nonchalantly so he doesn't think I care either way, but I don't think I convinced him.
He nods and stands up.
I walk with him to the front door, and we end up in that same position again, his hand above mine on the doorway, me looking up at him and hoping I don't have stars in my eyes, but it being likely.
"Averen?"
"Yes?"
Silence. Maybe this time he'll finally ask me something meaningful. Not that I long for him to, but maybe it would bring closure to this whole thing, close our book and rip out the pages, end the story, let my soul rest, put me at ease, let us return to strangers like we were before the whole mall orde-
"Where's the bathroom?"
I point down the hall and he runs off.
I stand there, and Loretta walks up, wrapping an arm around me and patting my back rather harshly. "Just be glad it's not Anthony. His breath smells like pastrami."
I facepalm.
I need a friend transplant, and maybe a heart transplant to, because something must be wrong with it for it to react the way it does when Kori stands over me, and I can feel his heart beating, like a small earthquake, a personal earthquake, no one else can feel it, yet it still shakes me up, leaving me winded, leaving me knocked-down.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Laying in on the couch, with Loretta snoring loudly on the recliner next to me, I can't sleep.
She invited herself to stay over, and I didn't decline, I really don't feel like being alone. My fever has gone, and my stuffiness has subsided, yet I still feel sick. Passing through the kitchen I saw mom's pill container, and she didn't take them again today.
I'm almost awaiting a call from Dad giving me bad news, like I'm just waiting for something to go wrong.
I sit up, greeting Gerold as he climbs on my chest, I guess there's still Gerold.
He curls up into a circle, puring loudly. I scoot down, laying flat on my back. My knee suddenly aching again, even though I could've sworn it fully healed.
I toss and turn for a few more hours, before giving up.
I stand up, careful not to disturb Loretta, and creep into the kitchen where the last few rumballs reside on a plate, the light from the numbers on the oven shining onto them, illuminating them like treasure, and In a way, they are.
I pick up the two rumballs, and sit down at the kitchen table, indulging in them.
Can you be an alcoholic if It's just rumballs?
Because if so,
I need a good sobering program.
Gerold follows me, angrily meowing at me, then at the wall, then at the floor, his oldness causing him to be heavily disturbed by everyone.
Y'now what Gerold, I think we have a lot in common.
I sit down on the floor next to him, giving him a treat.
He eats his treat, and I eat my rumball.
Life is good.
YOU ARE READING
As Easy As Murder
RomansaWoooo, another story I probably won't finish! <3 "Loving you is as easy as murder." Wild and spontaneous 20 year old Averen Hart works at a Hot Topic, has an all black wardrobe, and is the definition of gothic. She's got her support group of fri...