probably the closet door.
“You know I
would cancel it for you.” Lucas lets out a long sigh of resignation.
“I know,
but don’t, okay?”
He gives up
and moves on quickly. He has learned over the years that I’m a bit stubborn.
“Your voice sounds better. I guess you cooled it on the screaming exercise?”
I roll my eyes. I can’t get anything past him.
“I told you
it’s my allergies against the south.” I try to laugh it off. Lucas remains
quiet as expected at my lie. “Look. It’s been an exhausting day and I was only
in Jean’s presence for not even five minutes. Tomorrow is gonna be worse. I
best be getting to bed. I love you.”
“Love you
too. Good night, love.”
I hang up
the phone and turn over. I pull the cover up over my head and try to pretend
I’m back at our condo and he is just working late. I miss him and want him
here, but I’m not that selfish. He doesn’t need to be stuck in this mess. I
finally drift off to sleep after tossing and turning for about an hour. At my
last glance of the clock, it’s one in the morning.
~
~ ~
“Come on man! Momma said we could.
Don’t chicken out on me now,” John Paul says. He is trying so hard to convince
Bradley, who’s being quite hesitant about this stunt. “You know everyone is
looking forward to this latest feat. This is our coolest idea by far, dude.”
They stand there—one blond and one auburn, and both of equal height and
weight—near the edge of the overgrown field, contemplating. They are more like
brothers than cousins.
The two teenage boys are known for
performing daredevil stunts for all the kids in the neighborhood—whether it
includes a surfboard, skateboard, or anything with a motor. Consequently,
neither one ever walks away unscathed. They end up with broken bones and
stitches quite often.
I move a bit closer so I can hear their
conversation better. “I don’t know, J.P.” Bradley hesitates. “We don’t know
what’s in that grassy field.” Bradley’s uncertainty on attempting their latest
stunt is loud and clear. He has already chewed every bit of his fingernails off
up to the quick and is now chewing on the skin around what is left of his
thumbnail.
“Okay, okay,” John Paul replies,
raising his hands up. “Let’s check it over real good first.” I can tell he has
his mind made up on performing today, no matter what. “You know everyone will
be ticked at us if they come out here in this blame heat and we chicken out,
dude.” John Paul runs his hands through his long hair.
The grassy field is located down a dirt
road and isn’t being planted this year, so it’s pretty secluded and deserted.
It is quite overgrown with waist-high weeds in some spots. I keep checking
around my feet for snakes as I follow behind them. They quickly scope it out
for any hidden obstacles while the cicadas keep whining out a warning. I hope
those blame bugs hit their crescendo soon, because the volume is echoing around
the field in an annoying buzz.
After the boys decide the field is safe
enough, John Paul can barely contain his excitement. He’s practically skipping
around, high-fiving some of his buddies as he passes by. The crowd of kids
begins to gather at the edge of the field.
“What are they going to do this time?”
someone in the group behind me asks once I settle in my spot at the edge of the
field. I have no idea, so I let someone else answer.
“J.P. is going to drive that old,
beat-up car around the field while Bradley walks on top of it from the front to
the back,” another kid answers.
I slipped out of the house earlier to
come out here and watch the stunt. Now that I find out exactly what the stunt
is, I want the boys to heed to the cicadas’ warnings. I know it’s no use to try
to talk them out of it, though. I reluctantly stand on the sidelines with
everyone else and watch nervously. The heat is searing my face and thick beads
of sweat blanket the back of my neck in the late summer
“You know I
would cancel it for you.” Lucas lets out a long sigh of resignation.
“I know,
but don’t, okay?”
He gives up
and moves on quickly. He has learned over the years that I’m a bit stubborn.
“Your voice sounds better. I guess you cooled it on the screaming exercise?”
I roll my eyes. I can’t get anything past him.
“I told you
it’s my allergies against the south.” I try to laugh it off. Lucas remains
quiet as expected at my lie. “Look. It’s been an exhausting day and I was only
in Jean’s presence for not even five minutes. Tomorrow is gonna be worse. I
best be getting to bed. I love you.”
“Love you
too. Good night, love.”
I hang up
the phone and turn over. I pull the cover up over my head and try to pretend
I’m back at our condo and he is just working late. I miss him and want him
here, but I’m not that selfish. He doesn’t need to be stuck in this mess. I
finally drift off to sleep after tossing and turning for about an hour. At my
last glance of the clock, it’s one in the morning.
~
~ ~
“Come on man! Momma said we could.
Don’t chicken out on me now,” John Paul says. He is trying so hard to convince
Bradley, who’s being quite hesitant about this stunt. “You know everyone is
looking forward to this latest feat. This is our coolest idea by far, dude.”
They stand there—one blond and one auburn, and both of equal height and
weight—near the edge of the overgrown field, contemplating. They are more like
brothers than cousins.
The two teenage boys are known for
performing daredevil stunts for all the kids in the neighborhood—whether it
includes a surfboard, skateboard, or anything with a motor. Consequently,
neither one ever walks away unscathed. They end up with broken bones and
stitches quite often.
I move a bit closer so I can hear their
conversation better. “I don’t know, J.P.” Bradley hesitates. “We don’t know
what’s in that grassy field.” Bradley’s uncertainty on attempting their latest
stunt is loud and clear. He has already chewed every bit of his fingernails off
up to the quick and is now chewing on the skin around what is left of his
thumbnail.
“Okay, okay,” John Paul replies,
raising his hands up. “Let’s check it over real good first.” I can tell he has
his mind made up on performing today, no matter what. “You know everyone will
be ticked at us if they come out here in this blame heat and we chicken out,
dude.” John Paul runs his hands through his long hair.
The grassy field is located down a dirt
road and isn’t being planted this year, so it’s pretty secluded and deserted.
It is quite overgrown with waist-high weeds in some spots. I keep checking
around my feet for snakes as I follow behind them. They quickly scope it out
for any hidden obstacles while the cicadas keep whining out a warning. I hope
those blame bugs hit their crescendo soon, because the volume is echoing around
the field in an annoying buzz.
After the boys decide the field is safe
enough, John Paul can barely contain his excitement. He’s practically skipping
around, high-fiving some of his buddies as he passes by. The crowd of kids
begins to gather at the edge of the field.
“What are they going to do this time?”
someone in the group behind me asks once I settle in my spot at the edge of the
field. I have no idea, so I let someone else answer.
“J.P. is going to drive that old,
beat-up car around the field while Bradley walks on top of it from the front to
the back,” another kid answers.
I slipped out of the house earlier to
come out here and watch the stunt. Now that I find out exactly what the stunt
is, I want the boys to heed to the cicadas’ warnings. I know it’s no use to try
to talk them out of it, though. I reluctantly stand on the sidelines with
everyone else and watch nervously. The heat is searing my face and thick beads
of sweat blanket the back of my neck in the late summer
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