Comfortably Numb

Chapter 13: Whores and Guitar Playing

    “Adam wants to take me on a date,” My mom chews her food slowly, with a smile on her face.

    “He asked you out?” I ask her, eating a bite from my hamburger.

    She tells me about the man at work who has a crush on her. Mom talks about him with such great admiration, that it’s hard to miss the way she feels about him. My mind thinks of Dad, but I push it away. Mom deserves to be happy.

    “Yes, yesterday. I was busy cleaning the tables, and mostly everyone was leaving. Adam just came out and asked me, and I couldn’t possibly say no. He is too sweet.” She bites her French fry.

    I smile.

    “I want to meet him. He needs my blessing in order to take you anywhere,” I joke.

    “Of course, of course!” She rolls her eyes. “You’ll really like him, Grayson, I know it.”

    “I bet I will. I would like to meet him,” And I am being honest. I think Mom should find someone to make her happy. No, I am not trying to replace Dad in any way, I just don’t want Mom to be lonely. Even if she won’t admit it to me, I know she’s lonely.

    “When’s the date?”

    “Saturday night. I can’t wa-” She pauses. “I don’t have anything to wear!”

    “It’s okay, Mom,” I say, calming her down. “We can go shopping tomorrow, after school? There’s a cute boutique on Main,”

    Mom nods. “Okay.”

    We finish our meals, and I put our plates in the sink. I yawn. It’s only seven thirty-two, but I am just tired. School was normal today, well, besides the fact that Marcus spilled his juice all over the front of his jeans.

    I call it an early night. Kissing Mom’s cheek, I tell her goodnight and walk to my own room.

I open the curtains to the balcony, and I see the sun barely touching the horizon. The sky is a mixture of orange and pink, and it reminds me of the sherbet tubs back down on the ice cream stand. I crack open the sliding glass door, and let the breeze in. Climbing under the covers, I turn on my music and turn off the lamp.

******

    “Open your books to page four hundred thirty-six.” Mrs. Summers says. Her hair is piled up on the top of her head and she sports a long red dress.

    “Today we will be starting a new chapter consisting of the Civil War and Reconstruction era. You will be required to know the information I teach and will have a quiz next Wednesday,” She instructs.

    I’ve grown to love this teacher. Mrs. Summers is strict and her expectations are high, but she is great teacher, despite my old history teacher back in Texas. All she cared about was her daughter’s track meets and her son’s baseball games.

    I sit in silence, writing the necessary notes in black ink pen, something she requires. Alexander sits on the opposite side of the room, aimlessly staring out the window. Lately, he’s been seeming different. Almost distant. It confuses me, but I don’t ask questions.

    The bell rings, and I walk to lunch. I don’t know if I should wait up for Alexander. I wouldn’t want him to just ignore me, but then again I’d feel bad to just leave him. I stand and wait for him to walk by.

    “Hi,” I say, and it seems as if I just awoken him from a deep thought.

    “Oh. Uh, hello,” I don’t say anything. I don’t know what to say.