The Bunker

shut up and eat your bananas.

Things ain't what they seem. We're lost between the devil and the deep

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"I cannot believe that your parents buy you an apartment, buy you a new car, and hire you a caterer and you're still begging for rides off of H and eating canned food. What is the matter with you?" Amara was rustling around in Quinn's meagre looking pantry trying to find something decent to eat.

I stayed out of the conversation, I knew how she got when she was hungry. I also knew how she got when she was annoyed. Which was every time we went over to Quinn's house. We seriously needed to find a meeting place that was neutral ground.

Said Quinn was trying to bury himself into the couch and muttering the occasional "Hmpf" whenever Amara glared in his direction.

"You are a terrible host Quinn McGrath. Honestly. What would your mother say?" she was shaking her head as she closed the pantry door in disgust.

"You wouldn't understand." Quinn countered sullenly. I could see the blow up coming, so I sighed and got up to go to the other side of the living room. Out of harm's way.

These two have been known to start throwing things at each other if the fight got too heated. Which was most of the time they fought.

"What is there to understand, Q? Your parents love you and they're just trying to do their best for you."

"What, by buying my love with their fancy gifts?"

"You're being a spoilt brat, it's better than being homeless and hungry." Amara's arms were crossed now and she was getting ready to make her way over to him.

"I don't care."

"Oh for Pete's sake Q, get off your high horse for once and just let them help you!"

"I don't want their help. I don't need their money. If they really want to be parents they should come down here and spend time with me and get to know me for once! You of all people should understand that. Damn their stupid gifts!"

He was standing now, his caramel skin tinged with a hint of red and eyes steely gray with anger.

Amara just stared him down until he'd calmed himself, then she did what she always did when the subject of the parents was brought up. She changed the subject.

"I'm going out to get some actual food." she said gathering her keys and wallet off the fancy glass coffee table.

"H, do you want anything?" she asked glancing briefly at me.

"Uhh...maybe just some coffee...thanks" I ventured from my safe place.

"Alright. I'll see you just now then," she said, then she walked over to Quinn who was still standing there fuming, gave him a pat on the head and walked out, slamming the door behind her.

"Dude," I drawled casually as soon as she was out the door, "she does have a point. Have you considered that having the luxury to walk away from money and still living a relatively comfortable life isn't the protest you think it is?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" was the terse response I got.

I paused a moment, wanting to find the right words for what I was trying to say.

"I'm just saying, I'm living on canned food and in that crummy apartment above the bakery because my parents are dead." he winced at that, I continued.

"My point is, I don't have a choice. If I did, well, I  wouldn't. You choosing to act poor when you have the resources available to you is just you exercising your privilege." I finished.