texaswildfire

I get up early to ride with him to school.
Up front and center.
Early morning daybreak enjoyed from the passenger seat Tuesday.
And Wednesday. Thursday. Friday.
It reads like a page from some odd dream.
Everyday is the same but in a good way.
Much better than riding in the backseat while Seth and Jonah make fart jokes.

They are gone with dad for the weekend.
It's just mom and I tonight.
She made bananas foster for dinner because she said I needed happiness.
She sits down in the livingroom with her sewing.
I took a long bath in her huge tub.
She let me use all her gorgeous smelling things that make me feel like silk.
I cuddle in my bed at 8:00 in a long green/white striped cami and matching shorts.
Something I can't wear when my brothers are home.

The house feels luxurious when all the boys are gone.
Mom spoils me and we indulge in cheesecake for breakfast.
She finds a new way to spoil me this time.
She sends him to my room without notice.
I don't have time to find my jeans before he comes in holding flowers.
Hand picked roses. Thornless. Nice. From his mother's garden.

"Your mother didn't tell me that you'd be sitting in your room wearing the cutest, girliest pajamas I never imagined you'd own," Marc says, laying the roses down on my desk. "If I would have known you were busy having a nice night in, I wouldn't have bothered you. You were probably looking forward to laying in bed, watching Meryl Streep movies and falling asleep to Motion City Soundtrack."

"No one falls asleep to Motion City Soundtrack and, if someone does, they aren't people I want to be friends with. My plans can be altered slightly if you had something else you had wanted to do," I tell him. I don't bother getting up. Don't need to.

He comes over to sit with me.
With my door closed, he skims his lips over my shoulder and up my neck.
I shiver. He smiles.

"I was kind of hoping you'd come out with me tonight. The people from the paper personally requested your presence, of course, I am sure it has something to do with the chocolate pudding you brought us this afternoon," he says. "They are having dinner and then the Juniors are going to be turning in their pieces to see who qualifies for my place next year. It's all very low key at Mr. Foster's wife's place on the lake. Everything is very casual. Jeans and t's and, don't worry about money. It's on me."

"Well, I was kind of hoping that I could have the night to myself, but what kind of girl would I be if I let my pudding loving fans down," I joke. "Yeah. I will go with you. I just, obviously, need to get dressed before we go anywhere because I seriously doubt that Mr. Foster would like to see me in this."

Marc goes to wait downstairs with my mother.
I am sure she is offering him cold coffee and good chocolates.
My closet finds me the perfect things to throw on.
Classic jeans. A pink and white checkered tunic that go with my plaid pink Converse.
My messy hair goes into a messy ponytail.
I stop by my mom's room to spritz on some of her expensive perfume.
And steal some earrings.

I come down to find him holding the coffee I knew he would.
My mother takes the cup from him when she notices me.
She tells us to have fun.
She never tells me when I should come home.
I don't worry about it and enjoy the dinner.
I enjoy the nerds.
I enjoy conversation, the food and dorkdom of everyone.
That is, until Mr. Foster brings up my own writing skills.
Then I just get embarrassed.

"You know, Rose, I was very surprised not to see you come in asking about a Journalism position when the paper started at the beginning of the year. Your teachers have always raved about your essays and reports," he says, casually shocking my cheeks into turning red. "Maybe Marc can convince you to work on the website this summer so you can have a regular place on the team come September."

"Yeah, Rose. Mrs. Allen-Bloom basically uses your papers to show everyone else how they should be done," pipes up dork #1, Phil.

"Phil agrees and Phil never likes anything," Mr. Foster says as he swirls his wine. "When you go home tonight, you should work on a report, something really good so you can throw your hat into the ring for Marc's job."

I tell them I don't want his job.
I will do stuff for the web-site if they want.
I don't really want to do that, either.
Summer is supposed to be lazy.
But they think it's a good idea.
So does Marc.
Mom will, too.

Dinner ends and Marc asks me to stay with him at the lake.
It's nice, warm and just dark enough that it's only safe to stay locked in the car.
I don't do outdoors well so it works out for us both.

"I'm sorry about Mr. Foster. He gets excited about things and goes off half cocked. You don't have to give him anything if you don't want to," Marc offers, sliding his hands behind his head, smushing them between his skull and the headrest. "Just because I have to be stuck doing random things for summer, doesn't mean you have to as well. I am almost positive that you wanted to sleep until noon, bathed in sunlight in cute pajamas, just taunting me."

"That wasn't exactly my goal, but you're close. I had camp for the past two summers and, to be honest, I wanted to just lay in bed with books all day. I don't want to worry about anything other than making sure my skin doesn't get burned or that I distract you too much from your work and your own agenda," I tell him.

"I plan on working as little as humanly possible," he quickly shoots back. "My goal this summer is getting to know you again. We aren't 11 and 12 anymore. We can't just hop on bikes, ride down to the arcade and play air hockey until we run out of quarters."

"Why can't we? It's going to be summertime. Things are meant to be simple, one big long weekend. You are supposed to completely indulge in things that make you happy. And, this is your last strings-free summer," I say as I shift onto my side in my own lowered seat. "Next year, you will come home wiser and used to being on your own. So, don't be so opposed to the arcade, sleeping out on your trampoline and going swimming in Mr. Foster's pool when he goes away on vacation."

Marc smiles and sits his seat upright.
Seat belt clicks and the engine starts.
I copy him in sitting up and buckling in.
He leaves the radio off.
The air conditioner gets cranked up.
We are quiet the whole drive home.
The clock reads 11:21 when he pulls into his driveway.

I don't ask him to come back to the house with me.
We don't kiss in his driveway.
He goes to his room.
I go to mine.
My pajamas go back on.
I sleep with the window open.
No pebbles come soaring through the open way.

Still, it's peaceful and nice.
Summer sounds are setting in.
So is the semi-warm night breeze.
And I sleep.
Very well.
So well that, by the time my mother decides to wake me, I am already up.

We have breakfast.
French toast with whipped cream, syrup and berries.
Coffee, heavy on the cream and sugar.

"I put the flowers that Marc left for you into a vase. I left them in my bathroom in case you wanted to take another long bath today, along with some issues of Vogue, in case you wanted to read and soak at the same time," my mother rambles as we eat slowly. "Just what is happening with the two of you? I suppose you don't want to tell me but, I'm only curious."

"It's an odd shade of grey," I tell her.

"Meaning what, exactly? Should I be worried that you are turning into a whore," she asks, looking at me with an odd seriousness that I can't believe she even has stored in her. "I really have to tell you, Rose, I don't want to have to worry about you, too. Seth and Jonah give my mind a more vast work out than is needed."

"You don't need to worry about me. I am absolutely fine with things right now. Stuff with Elliot just made me realize that I don't need to be so serious. I just want someone to have a great summer with," I say, thinking that I have nipped her anxiousness in the bud.

"When you get done with breakfast, you should get dressed," my mother instantly responds. "Since the house is man-free for a change, I want to take complete advantage of it."

I take this to mean we are going to be having fun.
You know, romance movies that she will translate into English.
Lounging in the livingroom reading books.
Her teaching me to sew the way she can.

That's why I hurry to finish my breakfast.
She isn't nearly done when I finish.
I go upstairs to take a long bath on a full, but not overly full, stomach.
I scattered the petals of one of the roses Marc brought into the water.
I relax for 45 minutes.
Then I put on some jeans. Fitted black t-shirt. Multi-colored plastic wrist bands.
I leave my hair wavy.
It feels organic. It feels so nice.

When I come back downstairs, my mother has on a dress.
Pink with small flowers on it.
Her long hair is braided, like she's getting ready to go somewhere.

"Rose, you look very lovely. Could you please put on some shoes or flip-flops so you can come to the pharmacy with me," she asks of me, pulling the strap of her purse up onto her shoulder.

I nod.
Go put on some socks and shoes.
Come back down to walk with her to the car.
Strap myself in like she does.
Today will be nice.
Maybe she will buy me some nice stuff like she has.
At least I hope.
Living with Seth and Jonah, I deserve it.