Twiddling Thumbs

iii. when you have others by your side, never face anything alone

Once we arrived at his house–it was an apartment really–he led me up the stairs to his room. It was quite spacious, to be honest. I expected to see a cheap three-hundred dollar apartment with, maybe, one room and a bathroom, but I faced a four room, plus a bathroom–five, apartment with blue walls.

I stepped inside first, followed by Seth, who closed the door behind him. “Is it just you here?” I asked politely, glancing up at him. He nodded, and I saw a flash of sadness in his eyes. “Was there someone else who lived here with you?”

He ignored me as he slowly trudged over to the couch, centered in the middle of the room, in front of the television and plopped down on it with a thud. Seth reached for the remote and turned on the television. I stood awkwardly by the door, rubbing my hands on my arms. Seth turned towards me. "What are you–" He paused, his eyes widening in recognition. He stood up off the couch. "Oh, sorry," he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, "I forgot. Here," He motioned toward the bathroom, "follow me."

I followed after him into the bathroom and sat on the toilet while he left to get the ice. He returned a few minutes later with a bag of ice in the palm of his hand. He grasped my hands in his, putting the ice one the bruises. "Hold it there while I get the wrap." He reached up in a cabinet above my head and fumbled around with some things until he closed the cabinet and stretched out the wrap. "Hold out your hands." He demanded softly, and I held out my hands–ice and all.

He wrapped the wrap tightly around one of my knuckles, squishing the ice against the bruises, making me wince. He did the same to the other hand and, soon enough, both of my hands looked as if I had just gotten plastic surgery, or I was about to go boxing.

“Thanks,” I murmured, standing up and walking into the living room with Seth by my side. Seth left my side and slowly made his way over to where he previously sat. He motioned me over, and I sat down beside him, careful not to hit my knuckles. We sat in silence (but not total silence–my legs were crossed, and he had his elbows on his knees) while the music channel played in the background.

My stomach rumbled, causing Seth to lift his gaze from the ground and look over at me. “Is somebody hungry?” He teased, leaning back on the couch. I stuck my tongue out at him in a playful manner, and he shook his head. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He stood up. “Come on, let’s get something to eat.” He helped me up, and I followed him into the small kitchen just around the corner. I took a seat on a stool positioned by a small counter while Seth rummaged through the fridge. “What do you want to eat?” He asked, leaning up from the fridge to look at me.

“Anything will be fine. I haven’t eaten in a few days due to the fact that my mom is really lazy, or, should I say, dedicated towards her work.” I rolled my eyes then furrowed my eyebrows in concentration in attempt to think of something to change topic. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to.

“A few days?” He questioned, now standing fully upward, staring at me with wide-eyes. His gaze traveled over me, and his eyes grew even wider (if that were even possible) in realization.

I waved it off. “It’s fine; we didn’t really have the mon–”

“Nonsense; that is not fine.” he grinned, “Tonight, we shall feast!” He rushed over to his cabinets and began pulling out pots and pans, placing them on the stove. He turned on the burners and jogged to the fridge, pulling out a large bowl full of ham and turkey, a box of eggs, the gallon milk, and some whole potatoes.

He poured cooking oil in the pan and began placing the ham strips on it. “You go,” he nudged me off the stool and pushed me out of the room, “watch television or something while I get this cooking. You’ll be amazed.” He gushed, turning back to his cooking food. I laughed and made my way over to his couch. I picked up the remote and scanned through channels.