Nash calls and I answer immediately.
"Why are you taking so long?" His concern is heartwarming but I'm still pissed at him.
"I'm on my way back home, chill." As I talk I can hear him chewing gum in the phone. This has to be some kind of addiction right?
"Don't make we wait too long." Slick comments like this one make me question his intentions. Either way I continue to drive to the house. My mother calls on the way. I give her the whole update but she doesn't know what I'm here for. I have no real reason to let her know. She's probably thought about the will before but never acted on it.
Anyways, I don't think Nash has made contact with his parents. If he were to they wouldn't care much. They drown themselves in their work and they forget out their children. And I don't want to bash my best friends parents but I know he deserves better ones. Mostly, I think it's because one child died under their care and to avoid feeling the pain they work harder and act happier.
They spend money left and right. That's not the right way to cope with pain. Nash and his brother are like the only sane ones in their family. They let depression consume them when their sister died to avoid it in the future. They knew it wasn't their fault so they let the storm pass. Although the topic brings back a couple of showers.
As I think back I kind of feel bad that Hayes had to stay behind with his parents. I should've invited him but I wasn't really worrying about it. Mostly I wanted Nash with me.
I get home and it's 13 minutes until 7. Nash has two cameras, sitting on the porch. The car beeps twice signaling that I locked it and Nash looks up at me.
"I found a Polaroid, baby." The words making me scream inwardly. I know he didn't mean it the way I interpreted it. It was almost like football talk. I walk over to him and pick it up, snapping a picture of him with his other camera.
"it's cool. Where'd you find it?" He points to the little shack behind the house. It was our little play house when Nash used to visit with me. Unlike most, it's not rusty not beat up. It's completely clean.
"that was locked when we got here." He laughs and blows a bubble with his bright blue gum.
"I know." He motions for me to get up and follow him into the house. He seems to be in a very good mood and I don't really know why. Just an hour ago we were screaming at each other. "I broke it."
"The bags are still in the Car, Nash." I inform him but he doesn't seem to care. "And you what?!"
"I broke the lock?" Instead of yelling at him, I just roll my eyes lazily and follow him. he doesn't see anything wrong with fucking with my dead grandmothers property.
