Pathway to Normalcy

8: Freddie

Turns out, the phone was in his back pocket the whole time.

He pulls it out triumphantly, "Viola!"

It seems I completely overturned the entire living room for naught.

Amelia's brother, who's name I still do not know, does a little dance. "Phone in this pocket," he places his phone clenched hand on his right ass cheek, in mention of the pocket, and then raises the other hand, holding a small carton, to the ceiling, "ciggies in the other!"

He places his phone back in the pocket and opens the cigarette carton, removing a single cig.

I grimace at the very thought of smoking but silverware, I think a spoon, flies at him from the across the room. It hits him Square in the forehead and falls to the floor with a gentle clink.

"Ow!" He yelps and drops the cigarette to my relief.

I turn to see Amelia standing in her calm glory. "You smoke, you get out," she says.

"Geez, lady. Coulda killed me with that!"

"Pity I didn't," she sighs and turns back into the kitchen mumbling, "anyone who still smokes in this day and age is an ignoramus."

I place the cushions back where they belong as the male sibling over there retrieves the scattered objects. He puts the cigarette back into its carton and then places it into his left back pocket. I tilt one armchair back onto all fours as he picks up the mistreated spoon.

He looks at me. "Thanks for trying to help, Kenna."

It makes sense he knows my name seeing as Amelia called me by it. I don't know his and as timing would have it, it was just starting to bother me and now seems to be the perfect opportunity to elude that we haven't been formerly introduced.

"No problem..." I trail off to hint at him.

I worry I'd have to wait a while or be more direct since so far, he doesn't seem to be the brightest bulb. Luckily, he catches on immediately.

"Where are my manners?" He slaps his hand on his abused forehead. Huh, kind of sobering to hear he thought he had any at all. "My name is Freddie but my friends call me Freddie."

I find it increasingly hard to tell when this guy's joking.

He offers his hand to shake. I'm faster at giving my own compared to when I'd met his sister. His handshake is much more enthusiastic than Amelia's and quite a bit more firm.

"Right," I say. "I'm Kenna but you knew that."

"Nice to meetcha!"

"Likewise."

We stop our handshake and I suddenly feel awkward, which is not uncommon. When I'm not struggling with unwarranted murderous intentions, it's unskilled and embarrassing awkwardness that plagues me.

"So, Kenna, got a boyfriend?" He blurts.

Damn him and his overfamiliarity.

From the kitchen I hear an offended grunt. "Frederick! Is that any of your damn business!? Fuck off already!"

I find myself chuckling. I turn back to Freddie. "So friends call you Freddie but sisters call you Frederick?"

He scowls, "Because she knows it annoys me." He then scampers off into the kitchen after his sister. "Wanna fight BITCH?!"

I laugh silently to myself as I hear the muffled arguement the two share about the rudeness of the other party.

As a single child, I've always envied the sort of unrestrained banter siblings tend to express. The fact that they are raised so closely seems to result in an inability to tip toe around eggshells with each other and in some cases, still maintain a healthy relationship. The closest I've gotten to having that was with my cousin, Jake. Unfortunately for both of us, a defective human being like yours truly can't really sustain one of those unrestrained playful bantering relationships.