It's Not A Side Effect Of The Cocaine, I Am Thinking It Must Be Love

chapter six- calm before the storm

I unlocked the door, sighing. It was only Wednesday and I was already exhausted. I mean, at least I was halfway through the week, but I just wished it was over already. My thoughts were interrupted by Pancho, who shouted, "Bedussey! Hey, you're home!" from across the house, not even bothering to check that it actually was me.

I walked into the living room where he was standing. He'd been staying home alone for the most part. I'd come home and have lunch with him some days, but for the most part it was just him and Bad Twin. I noticed my brother wasn't on the couch, which was unusual. Remembering that I should probably acknowledge Pancho, I greeted him with, "Hey, Pancho. Where's Bad Twin?"

"I dunno," he shrugged, "he said he was 'going out'." He put air quotes around "going out" and looked around the room for a second, then continued, "But, uh, how was your day? How's work and stuff?"

I sighed. Work had been terrible, actually. The funds for the project we'd been working on for months had gotten cut, and now we were struggling to find a way to finish it with half the budget we'd had previously, and most of the computers had gone and fucking crashed. I mulled over how to answer for a couple seconds. Either way, Pancho would bombard me with questions, so I settled with an honest "Shitty."

Pancho frowned at me. "Aw, really? That blows, man. Tell me about it!"

Every day after I got home from work, Pancho would ask me about how my day was, what I had for lunch on the days I didn't go home to eat with him and Bad Twin, how was traffic, how was the lady with the office down the hall or the guy who always smelled like cabbage, and any other questions he could think of. Even though it was a little bit annoying to have to talk about my work day as soon as I got home, it was also kind of nice to have somebody greet me other than a dismissive head nod from Bad Twin.

"It's nothing really, just, our budget for that project got cut, which makes everything a lot harder," I sighed, "and the fucking computers crashed, too. So that was great." I took advantage of the fact that Bad Twin was gone and sat down on the couch. Pancho followed suit and took the seat next to me.

"Man, that fuckin' sucks. Sorry." He looked at me with an expression that almost seemed to be sympathy, but I had gotten in the habit of trying not to read into his actions too much.

"Yeah. Thanks," I replied.

"But hey, uh, how's cabbage guy?" He nudged me with his elbow, smiling a little. Was he trying to cheer me up or something?

I laughed a little. "I actually didn't see or  smell cabbage guy today. I think maybe he was sick."

"Aw," he scowled, seemingly disappointed. "Well hey, at least you didn't have to deal with him today!"

I looked down at my shoes for a second, then at him. I forced a weak smile and said, "Yeah. Yeah, that's true." Why did he care so much?

He sat up straight for a second, like he had suddenly remembered or realized something, then leaned back onto the couch and looked at me to ask, "What's for dinner?"

"Leftover spaghetti." I shrugged. Leftovers weren't very exciting, but Pancho never seemed to get tired of them. It was one of his weird little quirks that made it easier to live with him, among his dedication to dental hygiene and, of course, his snoring.

Pancho nodded, apparently happy with my answer. "Dude. That spaghetti is some legit shit. I'd take it over turkey on Thanksgiving."

I snorted. In the back of my mind, I noted that variants of laughter were something I did a lot more when I was around him. "Good to know."

There was a brief silence. I kind of wanted to go and knit, and besides the fact that I was enjoying getting to sit on the couch for once, there was nothing to distract Pancho while I was in my room, and it would just be a mess. He was chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully, eyes not looking quite focused when I glanced at him.