Denim Jackets and Good Intentions

Chapter Four

Douglas sat in the pews with the Ross family, the commune so popular on this day for some unceremonious reason that caused the five of them to cram together on the stiff wooden bench. Their thighs were pressed together at the sides, but the space lacking between he and the elder brother of the two felt the warmest, the most intimate. He snuck glances at the other out of the corner of his eye every so often, finding himself unable to go a few seconds without marveling at the way that the warm toned visage beside him was illuminated by the sun's rays shining in through the mosaic window. He had to squint slightly to see through the ray, shaking his head when he was offered to switch seats.

Once the service was over, the Ross' insisted on going out to eat at their favorite diner, owned by a family friend. Saying no would have been fruitless. They sat at one of the larger tables, necessary now that they had an extra guest with them and the usual booth near the window beside the door just wouldn't do. Eric handed him a menu, and only then did the side of his thigh feel bracing without the company it'd once had. To be safe in the unfamiliar setting, the brunet ordered some French toast, since it was still before noon. The waitress, clad in a mustard yellow button up dress with the name 'Jolene' sewn into the pocket in front of her breast.

"What are you getting?" Henry asked, his eyes adrenalized.

With a titter of amusement at the younger one, he replied, "French toast, it's my favorite."

"Right on! Me too!"

Thomas ordered for himself and for Mary, the scribbling of Jolene's pen on the pad of paper about the size of her palm a swift scrawl. Eric ordered for himself, handing the menus over from where they lay stacked on the spotless table top. Douglas took them from the blond to deliver, the propinquity a skip shorter between him and the woman. Once they had all ordered, a reserved smile was casted Mary's way before Jolene was headed back to the kitchen. Thomas failed to spot the attention his wife gained.

The food was good. The freckled teen made a joke about it being better than Mary's cooking and by the sound he made almost directly afterwards, she presumably kicked him underneath the table. The Ross' were all very loving and playful with each other, Douglas found himself wishing for a relationship so wholesome with his family, but his mother had changed when Vincent died. As opposed to the freedom granted to him when he was Karen's age, the young girl was now restricted to the house unless supervised, at least, that's what he was told the last time he called.

After they were finished eating, which itself took close to three hours from how much talking and catching up thomas decided he had to do with a buddy he'd ran into. By the time the clan returned home for a hasty wardrobe change, it was rounding on three o'clock. Thomas rushed Mary and Henry into the car and dropped the two off a few blocks down at a birthday party, one that Henry tried to guilt-trip the two older boys into attending as well, before journeying to the other side of town to make it to work on time. The two boys were left to their own devices for the remainder of the afternoon.

The house seemed much quieter now and Eric's room felt much smaller, though why, neither of them knew. The younger of the two barged into his room and easily kicked off his shoes, a piece of beef jerky in his mouth as he changed out of his church clothes by the open closet doors. Douglas averted his eyes to the ground, toeing at a small stain near the foot of the doorway. Once he was in just a pair of dark jeans, deciding to taunt the other just a little after catching all those glimpses during the service, he leaned over his desk and popped a tape into the cassette radio. Immediately, the room filled with sound, energizing the air around them.

They played the only card came that either of them knew, poker. Somehow, two and a half hours passed by and the blond had been scammed out of the last twenty he kept in his pillowcase. So, he was more than relieved to hear that Douglas had no intention of keeping that cash, that he had just been playing for fun. Seventeen minutes after the hour turned six, both of their asses were sore from sitting on the floor and that's when the game ended. Walking to toss the pack of cards back on his desk, the emerald-eyed boy spoke.