Worth the Wait

Sweater Turn On

John and Veronica's townhouse was a typical three story house nestled among others of similar style on a residential street a few blocks from the business district in Kensington. Immediately upon walking into their home, a dirty-beige carpeted staircase led to the top floor. Off to right, upon walking in, was what they had turned into a guest bedroom and bathroom. There was a door that separated it from the main stairway in the house. Immediately to the left, was the same carpeted staircase that led to the basement. There was a dark brown carpet in the small basement to help with heat. All that was in there was a hot water heater and a washer and dryer. It had a window in the back of the basement and a door closed it off to the rest of the home much like the guest bedroom.

The landing upon entering was light yellow and off-white linoleum. At the top of the stairs was the main living area. Here, a large and spacious living room opened up on the right at the top of the stairs. There was a sliding glass door and a small balcony outside this floor. The kitchen was situated toward the back wall of this main living area, with two more rooms adjacent: the master bedroom and an extra room that had a couch and a couple bookshelves with a desk. The bathroom was off the kitchen to the left, situated beside a closet. Roger and I slipped out shoes off at the inside of the door. "We're here!" I yelled up the steps. Roger headed up the stairs first, his arms full of the extra pillows we had brought. I had all of the blankets.

Roger dropped all the pillows at the top of the stairs and I piled all the blankets on top of them. "Is this enough?" He asked dropping a large bag we had packed on top of everything. We threw some things we thought we may need for the overnighter inside, and probably forgot something.

"By the looks of that pile you two are stayin' for a week. I think we'll use it all though." Veronica said. She dried her hands off and came over to hug me. "I've got the potatoes peeled but I haven't cut them. I've cut the chicken up into pieces and it's boilin'. I really want to save that lovely broth. I pounded out the meat for the Salisbury steak." She explained.

"I would have helped you!" I scolded her, heading into the kitchen where Chrissie was leaned over against the stove watching the chicken boil. She was doing her best to look calm but she was wiggling her leg a hundred miles a minute. Veronica hugged Roger next.

"Hey. Your roots are growin' out, blondie. Lydia needs to touch these up." She mussed his hair all over his head. He smiled at her.

"I know, I really do. And no! We are not gettin' into that tonight. But I will have it touched up by next weekend." I assured Veronica, referring to the fact that Roger's hair had grown out at least two inches since I had highlighted in in the kitchen of John's cousins' northern home. "What ya' doin' there pretty girl?" I asked Chrissie. Before she could answer I greeted Brian and John.

"We brought cocaine if you're interested. But you can't have any until after midnight." I said. Brian laughed.

"You're like our own dealer, Lydia. You can count me out though." I opened up the refrigerator to take a look and find the refrigerated pizza dough John had picked up.

"Very well, Brian. Hey, Roger...Roger pay John for these groceries before we forget." I told him. I glanced over at Chrissie, she was still watching the chicken. I pulled the dough out and searched Veronica's cabinets for a cutting board and some flour. I would also need a rollin' pin. "My god! Could there be any more alcohol in this fridge!?" I observed. Roger made it a point to pull the carton of cigarettes, a baggie of white powder, a small mirror and a tiny bag with a razor blade in it out of our duffle bag. He threw everything on the end table beside the couch and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket to pay John.

"Rog, don't worry about it. It's no big deal." John said.

"Yes it is. To hear Lydia's reaction there's like 500 pounds worth of alcohol in that fridge. Here." Roger threw thirty pounds at John whether he liked it or not. Back in the kitchen, I cleared out a space to roll this dough out.