The large, three-story split-level house was alive with music and the sound of people talking and laughing. The party could be heard from outside, as Becca soon found out, when her father pulled up in front of the white-painted house with the red painted door and green-trimmed opaque window. With no other trim or paint on any other surfaces, these looked strange and out of place.
Becca climbed out of the car and shivered as a crisp December breeze bit at her cheeks and nose. She was instantly glad she had bundled up in a warm coat and muffler over her long pants and blouse-and-vest. She was also thankful for her warm boots as they kept the wind and rain off her feet.
Becca followed her quick-footed mother to the mini-mansion’s door, her father following slowly. Judy, the Hostess and best friend of Becca’s mother, opened the door to greet them. A servant took their coats and mufflers, and asked them to remove their shoes. This was a custom Becca was familiar with, but she couldn’t understand why it was usually held in homes with hardwood floors.
Oh well, thought the twenty-year-old as she unzipped and relinquished her boots.
The Hostess showed them to the main room, which consisted of a living room, (a couch and several chairs boxed together around a lamp and a coffee table) a large dining table, and a spacious, cluttered kitchen. On the wall between the living room and dining room, was a large, unused fireplace.
The dining table and kitchen counter were decked out with snacks consisting of bread, crackers, cheeses and mini candy bars, along with a charming white/blush zinfandel for the adults and sparkling cider for the kiddies. The smell of the rich turkey feast was heavy in the air and Becca breathed in deeply.
Certainly is a nice arrangement. She marveled, approvingly. Then, she shifted her attention to study her dinner companions.
Most of them were her parents’ age, conversing loudly over glasses of the pink wine. A few others seemed younger, mid to late thirties maybe, but they were in couples, with little brats running around behind them trying to find places in the stark house to cause havoc in.
Becca sighed. She wasn’t going to be able to find someone to talk to there. Strike one. She took a glass of cider and wandered off to see the rest of the house. A narrow staircase took her up to the top floor and she stepped off the steps into another small, strangely thrown-together living room. This one had a paper-cluttered desk, a couch, a radio, and a small TV in the middle of an otherwise empty entertainment set. This appeared to be where the hostess and her family did all the living.
Becca found herself beginning to formulate opinions of the hostess. She’s strange. It was then that Becca noticed the TV was on and being watched by a young boy. Becca guessed he wasn’t much older than ten years.
Strike two...
Becca was about to turn away when she noticed the other boy sitting next to the first. He was much closer to Becca’s age.
Oh. Hello.
He had smooth, light skin and a tall, slender body. He looked fairly well built for his slim figure. His brown hair was cut close to his head and combed smoothly to the side. He had a very cute goatee growing, which reminded Becca of the very sexy Latino man that helped her at the bank.
His long-sleeved, burgundy silk shirt and blue jeans gave him a sophisticated look that Becca really admired. She couldn’t help wondering what was on his mind as she walked past him quietly, pretending not to see him as she slowly explored the other rooms on the top floor, poking gently at the things she found. She wandered through a large laundry room and into a walk-in closet, then out into a large bathroom, then into a small bedroom. The last door led her back to the living room and put her right in the side-view of the older boy.
He glanced at her, and then turned to look at her. She pretended not to notice and kept looking around.
“Lost?” He asked. He was very soft spoken, and Becca would have thought he was shy if it hadn’t been for his tone of voice. Still, Becca had a thing for deep voices.
He’s…charming. Wow. Becca grinned. “Nope, not lost. Just checking the place out.”
“Would you like a tour?” The boy offered.
Woohoo! Actual human contact! Becca, you are a social outcast no more! “Lead the way.”
The boy got up and walked around the couch. Becca could have died when she saw how tall he was. He must have been at least a few inches over six-feet. She watched him head down the stairs and collected herself as she followed. “My name’s Frankie,” He told her as they walked, “What’s yours?”
“Becca.”
“Nice to meet you, Becca.”
“Nice to meet you, too, Frankie.”
They passed the yakking adults without so much as being noticed, and walked down the stairs into another whole living room area. This space was cluttered and frigid like a garage, with papers and boxes stacked in every corner. Beyond it there was a bathroom, an office, and a bedroom.
Frankie walked into the bedroom and sat down on the floor, looking at Becca where she still stood in the living room area. After a moment, Becca moved to sit next to him. She stretched out her legs until they were comfortable, eventually settling for keeping one knee up. She glanced at Frankie only to find him watching her with unveiled admiration. She was intensely conscious of the heat rising on her cheeks, and she grinned shyly.
Frankie was not so shy. “How do you know Judy?” He asked.
“Oh… She and my mother are close. I think they went to school together. You?”
“Something about cousins… I’ve only been here once or twice when I was little. Hasn’t changed a bit, not at all. That’s kind of sad, you know.”
Becca nodded, understanding. “Twenty years without a single change... I’ve always suspected that Judy might not have much of a life.”
“Almost twenty-two. How old are you?”
Becca grinned. Her attempt at guessing Frankie’s age hadn’t gone unnoticed after all. “I’ll be turning twenty-one in September.”
“Nice. Going to do anything special?”
Becca sighed. “I have never had anything special happen to me on a birthday. Not my sixteenth, not my eighteenth. I couldn’t even tell you when my last party was, it’s been so long.”
Frankie looked disappointed and sympathetic. “I’m sorry.”
Becca sighed. “Story of my life. I’m so fucking sheltered, and I have to live at home because I haven’t got the know-how to look for a job, get the job, then look for an apartment and pay for that. I don’t even have a car. It just doesn’t work.” With another, more frustrated sigh; Becca ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m sorry. I’m venting and you hardly know me.”
