In Your Skies

Chapter 2 (Part 1)

I got to Glendale and I raced to our house that was only a few blocks away, I heard the crunching of the browning leaves as I lurched to our front door. It was unlocked, great, my mom was probably expecting some serial killers to enter the house and go all The Strangers on us and I would be Liv Tyler in a man’s body.

“Oh honey, you’re back, come’er,” my mom said, peeking through the kitchen door

“Yeah, hold on I’ll be right down, just gonna make a call to An” I yelled back, I was already in my room, my sanctuary. Olive green and literally covered with autographed band posters, polaroids of Alvin, Anya and I and cutouts from magazines. I took of my coat and threw it back to my bed with messy army green sheets. Excited, I grabbed the mustard yellow phone that was sitting on my desk just infront of the window and dialed An.

“Hey, hey, hey,” she said munching on what seems to be potato chips as I heard her crunching.

“Drop the hay, I’ve got news, big ones,”

“What, what happened? You met Michael Cera?”

Unf, Michael, that sexy long-legged, awkward man-candy.

“Naw, even better. I saw this guy at the bus and—“

“He took you to a plateau of pleasure, already? My, my, Andy, what a little skank you are” she said teasingly

“Ha! Ha! Anya you truly are funny in a sad mother kind of way. Where was I? Oh, right. This guy was seated to me the bus earlier and although he was on the stickly and mean side, he was pretty gorg.”

“You got his name? His address? His blood-type?”

“Of course not! I was completely in awe that I literally couldn’t move. I couldn’t even look at him.”

“Did you see where he got off and being the dog that you are, we could probably track him down!”

Shit.

“Uhhh, that’s sort of the problem. I didn’t know where he got off.”

 The dog lost its instinct, how stupid could I get? I didn’t see where he got off. Rewind, please, rewind. Where is the rewind button in life when you needed it the most? REWIND!

Chapter 2

Lying flat on my bed and staring at my ceiling decorated with glow in the dark stars, moons and comets, I shifted my vision to the calendar next to my Mystery Jets poster. Fuck, it’s Monday tomorrow, back to that crackhole where life revolves around football and prom and where jocks and cheerleaders play round-robin relationships.

I put on my earphones only to find out that Boys Don’t Cry was still on pause. A smile broke out of my face as I remembered ‘The Looker’ smiling at me and his infinity tattoo. I was now kicking uncontrollably, like I had a giddy love-induced seizure. I was literally bouncing off my bed all smiles, ruining the already mushed up sheets.

“Should I call the exorcist, Linda Blair?,” my mom asked, sarcastically serious.

“Yeah, you can also tie me down the bed after I mutilate myself with a crucifix and puke out green stuff” I responded, equally serious.

“Oh dear, don’t throw a whole closet at me with your mind powers, then. You demon, exit my son’s body, I have something to tell him. After that you can take him again”

“What is it, my child?” I ask her with my impish-possessed voice, still not dropping out of character.

My mom who used to be a stage actress slowly made her way inside my room sat on my bed, her turquoise sweater folded, and bunching up on her arm. She used to star in local plays in our neighborhood: she played all sorts characters from the elaborately ruffled-cloaked Victorians to the mal-clothed 50s paupers to the deranged and kooky psychos and sea-monsters, which explains how my family saves a fortune during Halloween when we need a costume, her wardrobe was open and was flowing with various threads. And when she almost killed my sister by running after her with a scalpel.

“Well, my little possessed angel, your dad and I –“ she was interrupted  by the doorbell that was rung several times in no particular beat.

“That must be your Father and Alex, c’mon let’s talk this over dinner,” she extended her long arm signaling me to get up and like Xena she got to pull me with ease.

My folks already accepted my sexuality, at first they thought I was just feminine but when I entered second grade, my urge of dressing up as a Strawberry verified just that. My parents also told me one night when I was about to sleep that they were thankful to God that He gave them the perfect child, a rare kind, like unicorns.

We reached the front door, Mom opened them and in came my Dad and my sister, Alex holding newly-bought black and burgundy patched suitcases.

“Hey, my doorbell deaf honey,” Dad reaches over and kisses her.

“Not in front of the kids, loverboy,” winks my Mom.

“What’s for dinner?”

“The usual, human arms and thighs, a family favorite.” My mom jokes.

“Yum, I guess our traps proved wonders, didn’t they? Snatching up little kids who lost their ball in our yard,” laughs Dad with his what supposed to be an evil laugh, but actually he sounds like a hyperventilating old man.

My parents met at the theater, obviously. My mom played Tholomyès' daughter, Cosette from Les Miserables when my Dad was, as my mom called him “the guy who didn’t make the callback.” She still teases him until today.

“Okay, my cannibal, blood-crazed folks, let’s take a bite out of Mom’s Little Boy Caserole.” Alex butts in.

So there we were, a cannibal family of four, seated together in a cozy round four-seater mahogany table, the warm yellow light enveloping the cream colored room with a stained glass lamp hovering over table, releasing a spectrum of violets, greens and oranges.

Mom actually prepared lasagna tonight, with a side of her favorite potato salad, which I thought was a weird combination.

“So, we’re all here, I guess it’s more than alright to break the news,” my mom slurs as she wipes her mouth with the teal linen, “George, tell them,” elbowing dad who was about to talk a spoonful of her purple potato salad.

“Oh yes, thank you for reminding me, love," my dad gave me the stern look he would give anyone who was in trouble "Andy, you’re already 17, you’re old enough to tell what’s right from wrong. You already know how to take responsibility for yourself but this would test how receptive you are to change. Moreover, we'll see how you'll take on independence.”

Oh shit, they’re kicking me out.