pilot

0 0 0
                                    

I sit on my living room couch and look out the foggy window at Ajax's front yard. His mom, Miss Anne, is trying to mow the grass. Their screen door swings open with a creak I can hear through the gaps in my window, and there comes out Ajax. His mom looks at him as he gently takes her hands off the handles of the lawn mower. I watch as she looks to be resisting, but eventually, he convinces her to go inside and he starts mowing the lawn. Ajax does this every time she tries to mow the lawn. Just like his mom, he is always taking care of people, never letting them do the work.

I hear a crackle in the sky, and the clouds suddenly shift to gray. This is a regular occurrence in Crimson Bay. I hear the quickly increasing pitter-patter of rain on my roof and look outside to see Ajax drowned in rainfall. His dark hair drips wet, the fabric of his flimsy t-shirt clinging to his skin. I throw my red raincoat on, grabbing another for Ajax and a towel. I push my feet into my much-too-small rain boots sitting by the door and run over to his red brick house. I extend the towel and raincoat to him as he looks at me.

"Take them, before they're soaked!" I yell. He shouts over the sound of rain and thunder. "You shouldn't be out here, Carmen." He says simply, putting a hand on my arm. I tuck the towel into the dryness of my coat before it gets any more wet and hand him the raincoat, waiting as he puts it on. I look up at him. "Neither should you, AJ. Come inside, I'll make some warm tea and you can watch the game while I cook lunch."

He looks at me and hesitates before he says, "Fine." We step into the halo of my doorway, relieved by the shadow of rain. I kick my rain boots off and set my raincoat on the counter to dry. "Carmen, your legs are all wet now, look." He says, ironically soaked from head to toe. I pull down my wedgie-inducing denim shorts a little before I bend down to shuck the water off of my legs. He watches me intently with caring brown eyes. I swallow, a feeble attempt to untie the knot in my stomach that has suddenly appeared. I throw the towel at him and he messily catches it. "You know, my mom always keeps clothes here for you. Just in case," I say.

He smiles. "Don't use my fancy shampoo, use the cheap stuff!" I shout as he walks off, rubbing his wet hair with the towel I gave him. I go to my room and change into a hoodie and sweatpants, looking at myself in the mirror. Straight brown, plain hair. Tan skin, boring brown eyes. I take out my straightener and flip my hair inwards, trying to add some interest to it. I can't quite place what it is about my face I don't like.

I run a finger over my dark circles. My eyebrows are full but not overgrown. My lips aren't too large, but not very small, either. I put mascara on and take a once-over. I should dress nicer, I tell myself. I change out of the sweats and put on a white bralette top and cargo pants, throwing a hoodie overtop. I go back to the kitchen, shuffling my feet as I walk. I boil water in a tea kettle as he showers in the next room, the sound of running water echoing into the hallway. I drift off into thought. Our moms have known each other since college, so of course, we're best friends (It was in the contract of their friendship, I'm told by my mom). Ajax lives right next to us, and I'm convinced my mom must love him even more than me. I guess I have to admit, how could she not?

Recently he's gone through a growth spurt, from 5 '9 to 6' 3 in a year. He's now sixteen, a year older than me. As I pour the hot water into our mugs, AJ walks out. A towel around his waist, his whole upper body exposed. I haven't seen him shirtless since the summertime, but he's changed a lot since then. I look down at the suddenly riveting dirty old kitchen floor tiles. "Do you know where your mom keeps her clothes for me?" He asks. I walk to him and push a cup of Earl Gray into his hands.

"Let me go get them for you," I say, walking past him to the hall closet. I ground myself before I pick out some clothes for him from a box labeled, 'AJ' on a worn piece of blue painter's tape. "Thanks," he says, going back into the bathroom. I continue to heat a warm plate of paella I prepared last night until he comes out in his clothes. He walks in and stands behind me, putting his hand on my arm. A chill shoots down my spine.

He leans his head into the crook of my neck. "That looks good. It always baffles me how you can cook, seeing how your sister struggles to boil water. Not that I'm one to talk, though." He says into my ear, reaching down to grab a piece of meat before I can swat his hand away. "Mmm," he says, grabbing the plate. I roll my eyes and sit down next to him on the couch. "What do you want to watch?" I ask. He shrugs. "Aquamarine?" He suggests. I stare at him in disbelief. "You hate that movie," I say, the thunder crackling in the distance. He looks back at me.

"But you love that movie though, don't you?" He asks. "Well, yes, but why would you want to watch it? You've always complained about it." I say. "Well I'm assuming you don't wanna watch soccer," he says, pulling up the remote. I take it from him, "no no no, I wanna watch Aquamarine," I say hurriedly. He smiles and laughs. "aquamarine? Again?" My sister says, coming from the garage and sitting down on the couch.

She eyes my food. "There's a bowl on the counter for you, heat it for about 3 minutes," I tell her. The edges of her lips curl up and her gorgeous hazel eyes smile. "Thanks!" She shouts as she heaves herself off the couch. Her hair goes almost to her thighs now. "Talia, did you go to school this morning?" I ask. She checks the clock. "Yeah, but then I went to Starbucks afterward, I finished class about an hour ago, you know how slow everything is here." She puts her food in the microwave.

I finish my plate and AJ catches me off-guard by grabbing it, so I pull back. "Let me wash it for you," he insists. I loosen my deathly tight grip on the plate and he goes to the sink. I fix my hair as Talia gives me an 'I know what you're doing' look. I stick my tongue out and lay back on the couch.

We're on a two-week spring break (there are now only four days left of it, barf), and I'm dreading going back to school. Being a freshman sucks. Talia is currently going to community college, but she just goes because her boyfriend wants her to go, just in case. She doesn't really need it since she has a very successful self-owned business.

"It's raining again? I hate it here," Talia says, pulling the blanket over herself. "Come on, you know you love it," I say, soaking up the warmth of our shared blanket. "Rhode Island sucks." She huffs. I laugh and ruffle her hair. Talia has always complained about this town. She claims to hate the small town and over-eager community but I know she misses us when she's gone. After the movie ends, I wonder where Ajax went.

I look to see him not in the kitchen. I walk down the hall to the door to the basement. I step down our carpeted stairs, trailing my mom's sugary voice. The floor creaks as I step down and he turns to look at me. My mom smiles. "He's just helping me with the laundry." She says. I walk over to them as Ajax pours detergent into the washer. "You don't have to, AJ, I'll do it," I say. He shakes his head.

"I don't mind helping." He tells me. I nod and walk back upstairs. I go up the ladder to my room in the loft. There is no 'upstairs', just my strange room which is on top of my parents' with an open wall and no stairs up. I pull the heavy velvet curtain (the replacement for the lack of a wall) closed and my room dims instantly. I switch on the star-shaped lamp on my bedside table and sit on my bed, ruffling my dark red duvet. I put A.M. on my record player and hum along while resting my eyes until someone knocks on my wall.

"Can I come in?" He says. I sit up and wipe the mascara that's fallen underneath my eyes. I barely get to fluff my hair before he opens the curtain. He smiles. "Carrie, what's with the moody music?" He laughs, spinning my black and white globe. I shove his head from behind, barely reaching. "Just kidding. You've always been a little emo," he taunts.

I snicker and skim my hands over the old magazines on my shelf. "I wouldn't say emo, just a little . ." I think for a word. "Grunge?" He suggests. I smile. "Not quite, but close enough. Now come on, I'm not that grungy. I'm sure people would be offended by labeling myself that," I say. I kick a Calvin Klein bra under my bed before he sees. He sings the lyrics to 505 under his breath and I remember where I got my taste in music from.

Ajax and his brothers would always play alternative music and I was obsessed with it. I would never admit that I got my taste from him, though. He peeks through the blinds of my tiny window. "It's clear outside," he says. I squeeze beside him to see for myself. "Huh. First one to Tori's wins." I say. We look at each other for a split second before we shove our way to our cars.

not another girl next doorWhere stories live. Discover now