Two Simple Words

Chapter 2

"Either of you guys seen my soccer cleats in here?" Remy said, swishing his foot around in front of him, inwardly cursing himself for being so careless.

Wes looked over at his roommate cautiously using his feet to push around the scattering of empty beer cans, pizza boxes, dishes, silverware, odd ends of clothes, and remnants of anything that had been in his living room in the last year. He snickered, "Dude. You're acting like a girl."

Remy flashed him a half-hearted glare, "It's hard to tell what's in here."

Wes laughed and shrugged.

Remy's foot brushed against something mushy under a crumpled t-shirt. He jerked his foot back, recoiling, and snarled, "It wouldn't kill you to clean up in here once in a while, would it?" He looked over at his roommate, sitting with his legs kicked up on the coffee table, remote control aimed at the TV, beer in hand, and for the first time the idea of getting a house or apartment on his own lit up in his mind like an open sign.

"You can just skip practice today and clean it up yourself if it bothers you that much," Wes said, scrolling through the sports channels.

Remy was wading through the mess nearest the front door near the closet, the place he thought most likely for his shoes to have been swallowed by the mess. He wasn't going to even bother responding to Wes but then he looked up at him. "Dude, really? It's ten in the morning. Aren't you a little old for this?"

Wes looked over at him, smiled, held up his beer, and shrugged again. "I don't normally drink beer for breakfast, but when I do, I drink, Dos Equis."

Some clanging came from the kitchen followed by a voice, "Don't worry, I'll make sure he gets some real food this morning!" Rick was at it in the kitchen, and from the smell, something fabulous was being cooked up

Remy didn't think eating something healthy, with a beer, at ten in the morning, was the point he'd been trying to make. Thoughts formed in his mind, but stayed there. There was nothing he was going to say right now that would convince either of his roommates that anything was awry in this house.

The house hadn't always been like this. In the beginning, his two roommates had simply proven to be messy, but they were college students, and he thought it was to be expected. His mother had always told him the fact he kept his room at home so neat was "weird." Weird, he thought. That's weird.

"How else would I keep my room?" he'd asked her. Knowing he had only a year till he headed off to college, she just shook her head and smiled, "You'll see, one of these days."

And, he'd seen. For the first few months the three had lived together, Remy had found himself stopping in the living room and picking things up every time he passed through. And, the kitchen! Every time he wanted a bowl, cup, or utensil, he'd had to do a search-and-rescue from the bottom of a pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

He'd mentioned it, every day, until both his roommates were mad at him for being a harping nag.

"What's your problem, anyway?" they'd both teamed up.

He figured the only way they were going to get it was if he showed them what would happen if he stopped cleaning up after them, so for a weekend, he'd stopped. And, by Monday, he thought for sure the two would be shocked, disgusted, and repentant, and the problem would be solved. Instead, neither of them saw a problem with the way the house looked. He'd stood in the living room pointing, horrified by how his living room had transformed in such a short period, and both of them had again just looked at him, "What's your problem?"

And, so he'd given up, and he was sure his roommates now sort of looked at their living room as their "signature."

"You can't use that line when it's not a Dos Equis," Remy said, pointing to the Budweiser in Wes's hand.