Standarding Up

Chapter Two: Popes Never Get Any

    Walking into our shared apartment, I decided I couldn't wait any longer. I told Dexter in the car ride that I could be patient and wait until the morning to hear my new standards. While brushing my teeth in our crowded bathroom, I called out to him.

   "Can you please tell me now Dex? I can't wait until morning." I whined.

   He walked in, putting his arms around my waist from behind, "You are so impatient. I'm not telling you until tomorrow and that's that. I'm tired now. Plus, I probably need to go make a list so you won't try to bend the rules or something like you always tend to do." He started laughing, most likely remembering our days in high school.

   I stood on my tip-toes and brought his head down on my shoulder, "You know what my mom always said in high school? That'd we make cute babies." He wrapped his arms tighter and I took a look in the mirror. Both our dark features made us look similar, but quirks between the two of us made it obvious we didn't have the same family blood.

  "Hey Wyn?" He asks softly.

  "Yeah?" I continued to stare in the mirror.

  "There's something I've been meaning to tell you for," he chuckled, "quite a long time. I haven't exactly found the right words but..." He slowly stopped when the phone began to ring.

  I easily unleashed myself from his grip and skipped to the phone. Speak of the devil herself. I almost decided to not even answer, but with the look placed on Dexter's face, I knew he'd kill me if I didn't.

   "Hello mother."

   "Wyn! It's your father baby girl." His voice was dripping with something I couldn't yet identify.

   "Dad, this is surprising hearing your voice. Usually at this hour, you're drunk off your ass." I was harsh, but my heart felt no different. No odd gripping feeling or tears in my eyes.

  "That's 'cause I'm high!" He began laughing only to end up coughing. I rolled my eyes at his response. I knew there had to be a reason he was talking to me and not drunk. Disappointment slightly rattled around in my stomach, but I shook it off as fastly as it had taken over.

   "Let me talk to mom please," I heard him yell for my mother and within seconds, she was on the phone.

  "When am I getting grand babies?" No hello or how are you, typical of my mother.

   "When I get married?" I try. I hear her breath heavily as if she's having a hard time taking in the news.

   "What the fuck are you talking about Wynter Gabrielle? Why are you lying to me? I remember going to your wedding, buying your present, and not getting one phone call from you during your honeymoon!" She yelled.

   "Mom, calm down. You're not thinking straight. You're thinking of your other daughter Lola. Remember I live with Dexter and haven't had a steady boyfriend since middle school."

   "Oh," was all she said.

   "Okay, well this is awkward, so I'm going to hang up now. Seriously, no one is going to want to talk to you if you continue taking those drugs that mess with your memory or whatever. Bye."

   I slammed down the phone and sat down on the worn out couch, my hands covering my face. Dexter came and sat beside me, but gave me the space I was craving. Tears threatened to pour out, but I sucked them up. If my mom chose not to remember me, it just showed me she didn't and never will care about me. She and my father can rot in hell for all I care. Shaking my head hoping to drains all thoughts, I walked over to our Working Board. It's how Dexter and I figured out how not to get fired. We write down our schedules as soon as we get them on the board so we always know if we have to work or not.