Growing Up and Other Tall Tales

Chapter 19

Nick and I exchange wary looks behind Asa's back.

Not an unusual thing. But today we are sincerely debating in between wanting to help him and calling the cops, which upon further consideration is not so unusual either.

Nick's eyes bore into me: Ask him and I furrow my eyebrows in response: You ask him. He shakes his head vehemently and juts his chin at me again and angles his head at Asa who is sitting in between us with his shoulders slumped and eyes downcast.

Fine. But only because Nick's head looks like it is going to fall off his shoulders with the way he keeps tilting it at Asa.

"Why is the omelet green?" I ask blankly

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Nick punching his forehead against the ball of palm and I'm slightly insulted. If he knew any other polite way to ask it, he should've gone for it.

Asa turns to me and I almost regret being blunt.

"I know," he murmurs, "Looks a little off doesn't it?"

The omelet is green and there are far too many yellow spots for me not look at it and want to throw up. There is an odd smell wafting from the plate and Nick and I have scooted far away from its reach as possible whilst still trying to not hurt Asa's feelings. I look wearily at him.

Yeah, a little off.

"Look, why don't we order pizza?" I say instead and Nick nods encouragingly placing a hand on Asa's shoulder

He moans in despair and drops his head into his hands mumbling into them.

"I wanted to do something nice. She has been working so hard and I just wanted to show my love—"

"We usually don't give those who we love indigestion," I mutter and Nick glares at me making me stutter in my words before looking down at my knees

It's not like he did something terrible, he just failed at doing something basic and he has disappointed everybody, most of all, himself.

"She isn't going to leave you just because your omelet is green," Nick adds on

"So all in favor of burning the food, say ay." I don't wait for a response before chucking the omelet into the dustbin

Asa doesn't seem too sad.

"Lyra," Nick calls and I raise my head with my eyebrows raised, "Your phone's ringing. It's uh, Iced Tea? With the I and the T capitalized."

I roll my eyes and lean over for the vibrating phone that had been pulsating with annoying excitement mimicking the painful persistence of its caller.

"What do you want?"

"Evening," he cranks out and I hear a ruffling of papers on the other side and I imagine him sitting at his fancy table with his fancy pen writing about fancy business stuff to fancy people in his fancy suit.

"You are not my favorite person today," I inform him warningly

"I am not your favorite person any day,"

"Did you just call to remind me how annoying you can be? Could've sent a text." I sigh leaning against the kitchen counter watching Asa and Nick now fight over what to order for dinner

"That too," he says and then pointedly asks, "How's it going?"

"I'm aggressively ignoring that part of my life until it ceases to exist,"

"That'll do," he declares in response, "A stands for facing your problems,"

I splutter, "According to what alphabet?"