Chapter 23 -- The Legend of Schrodinger's Queer
I remembered waking up at some point that morning when Cory returned from the bathroom. He curled back up with me on the air mattress set in the middle of my bedroom and snuggled close, his hand creeping up my shirt. The way his fingers tickled through my chest hair put me in mind of a cat kneading its blanket as it dozed and I couldn't help grinning.
I fell back asleep cuddled up to a 210 pound kitty.
Only to be rudely awakened by my kid sister jumping on the bed a few hours later.
"For fuck's sake, Zoe." I rolled over and pulled the blanket over my head. Cory mumbled a sleepy protest and burrowed into my chest. "It's too early for this shit."
"'Rain!" Zoe shook my shoulders. "You gotta wake up!"
"I don't gotta do shit."
"Mom's making breakfast."
"Not hungry."
"
Vato
, what's going on?"
"Come on, you need to get up," she insisted.
"Don't care. Need sleep."
"He might be hungry." God, and now she was trying reason. Kid had to know it was way too fucking early to reason with me.
"We'll eat later."
"Mom's attempting quiche again," she said flatly.
My eyes flew open. "Shit."
"And that's exactly what it's going to taste like," Zoe added.
"What's wrong with your mother's quiche?" Cory asked groggily.
"Everything," she told him, but he'd already snuggled back up to me and gone back to sleep.
"Whose recipe is she using?"
"Yours."
"That's what she said last time," I said, looking back over my shoulder at her.
Zoe nodded grimly. "You know how she is."
I rolled my eyes. "How fucking hard is it to make a decent pie crust?"
"I dunno," she shrugged. "But, you
know
Mom can't be trusted with pie dough."
"Fuck."
"You're our only hope."
I groaned again and stretched. "Fine."
"Yes!" she squealed and started bouncing on the mattress. It had squeaked at the indignity of my and Cory's combined weight last night, and now groaned in protest at her added pounds. "Efrain's gonna cook for me!"
Cory rolled over with a groan and dragged both hands over his face as I sat up and the covers bunched up at our waists. Had this been any other time, we'd be in just our underwear, and thus totally indecent by little sister standards. Last night, however, he and I had slept in pajama pants and lightweight t-shirts.
"Well that's disappointing," she said, frowning. "He has all his clothes on."
"Do what now?" I said.
"At least let me see him without his shirt on."
She bounced again, forcing us to huddle on the opposite side of the air mattress.
"You're too young to be that thirsty."
"Come on, at least the pecs," she giggled. "I could bounce quarters off those things."
"What is she asking about?" Cory said. How he managed to stay that asleep with my obnoxious sister jumping around was a mystery.
"I have no idea..." I started to say, trailing off when she pantomimed lifting her shirt up.
"No, Zoe."
"I'll settle for a picture."
"Hell, no!"
"But, 'Rain," she whined.
"God, you're fucking weird."
"Oh, come on. I'm sure he won't mind."
I stared at her flatly, but it became obvious that it was having absolutely no effect on her as she tried to reach across me to poke at my boyfriend when she thought I wasn't looking. I slapped her fingers, and she pulled her hand back with a yelp. "Mine," I growled. Zoe gave me her best innocent look (which still looked damningly cat-that-ate-the-canary, but, hey, at least she tried), and I caught her other hand sneaking over. I slapped that one away, too, only to see her first hand advancing again.
"Always thought you'd bring home one of those swishy, sparkly gay guys," she giggled, redoubling her efforts to reach past me. "Who knew you had a taste for beefcake!"
"Quit..."
She reached out again and I slapped her hand.
"Trying..."
I slapped away the other.
"To touch..."
Then had to slap back the first.
"My..."
And then the other again.
"Boyfriend!"
"Aw! Look at 'Rain gettin' all butthurt." The backs of her hands were pink, but she remained undeterred. "You know, I'm only doing this 'cause it bugs you."
"Fucking brat," I growled and kept batting her hands back as she squealed and giggled.
Out of nowhere, a pillow swung up behind my sister, hitting her in the back of the head about ten seconds before a second pillow slapped against my head. Cory, who had probably moved around while we were distracted, knelt at the foot of the bed, his hackles raised and a pillow in each hand. He was wide awake now and not happy about it.
"You assholes have 'til the count of five," he said, his eyes narrowed on us.
"For what?" I asked.
"One."
"Oh, he's
cute as fuck
when he's mad," Zoe cooed.
"Two."
I cut my eyes over to him briefly and found that I totally agreed with the observation. A host of dirty thoughts sprung up, but I decided those would have to wait when I caught her wide grin out of the corner of my eye.
"Three."
Her body tensed up, as if to attack again, and I realized too late that Cory was no longer safely behind me.
"Four."
She watched me, as if for an opening, and I assessed the distance between my sister and my boyfriend, who still clutched the pillows at his sides.
"Five."
Zoe suddenly dove at Cory and I leapt to intercept her. Cory raised both arms, as if to swing at us, only to fall over as Zoe and I crashed in front of him. Zoe tried to scramble back, and I tried to scramble after her, but we soon found ourselves under fire from Cory's dual-wielded pillows.
In the chaos, we nearly missed the large pop that sounded from the side of the mattress. I didn't know the weight limit for the airbed, but even if we hadn't exceeded it, two large football players and a teenager bouncing on it was more than enough to cause a bust.
Air whooshed out the side and the three of us quickly found ourselves deposited on the bedroom floor.
Zoe, Cory and I stared at each other.
"That was the good airbed, wasn't it?" Zoe asked.
"I think so," I said.
"So, how much shit are you two in?" Cory asked smugly.
"About as much as you are," she said.
"It is one-third your fault," I added.
"Fuck."
"I'm not sure one-third is fair," Juaquin commented dryly. We spun around to find the other four members of the household watching from the doorway. "What do you think, Dad?"
"Thirty percent?" he suggested. "Lena?"
"Maybe a fourth," Mom answered.
"I'm not sure," Jennifer added. "He was kinda provoked."
"Split Cory's share, then?" Mom said.
"Not like we can hold him accountable," Dad said with a shrug.
"Can't really punish 'Rain anymore, either," Jennifer added.
"All on Zoe?" Juaquin said, and they nodded.
"Hey!"
"So, now that that's settled," Dad said brightly over Zoe's protests. "Breakfast?"
"Yeah...breakfast," Juaquin said.
"Breakfast sounds good," Jennifer agreed.
"Yes," my mother added with a sardonic lift of her eyebrow. "I apparently have some pie crusts to fuck up."
~*~*~*~
"And then the mattress pops, and the three of 'em are sitting on it like jackasses while it deflates." Juaquin laughed and kicked a small rock across the road. This had to be the fourth time he had told the story since that morning. He, Eric, and a couple relatives walked ahead of Zoe, Efrain, and me, as we led a group of cousins down to the park. The five of us had been tasked with getting them out of the house and out of everyone else's hair until dinner.
Within minutes of the first cracked egg, Efrain's extended family had started pouring in. The Rosses and Santoses joined us for breakfast. In the middle of eating, a couple more families had arrived to help demolish the quiche (after checking that Lena hadn't made it). And then even more had showed up as we cleared away the last of the dishes.
The odd thing about them, though, was that very few of the assorted aunts, uncles, and cousins looked like the Garzas. I mean, all three Garza children shared a strong resemblance with Bon and Lena, but very few family members looked like them even the slightest bit.
"This is an accumulated family," Bon explained to me later. "You sometimes get stationed too far away to be with your real family, so you make one where you are."
The people crowding into the Garza home had been assembled over the last two-and-a-half decades as he made his way through various duty stations.
Of course, it was this self-same accumulated family that was driving Lena insane. The babies could be fobbed off on the older relatives who just
loved
the things. The children were satisfied with raiding the storage tubs of old toys and watching cartoons in the family room. The adults had taken over the living room to socialize.
However, this arrangement left a contingent of unoccupied teens and tweens to huff around and complain about their boredom. And since they tended to be bottomless pits, the huffing and complaining most often occurred in the kitchen, where dinner preparations were still underway.
Thus, a pissed off Lena.
Zoe suggested going to the park to play ball, and Eric and Juaquin leapt at the chance to get out of various cooking duties. Jamie and Harlie insisted that I go, dragging along Efrain in the process. A few other cousins were convinced to venture out into the cold, either because that's what the cool kids were doing or their cellphones had died, which brought our group into the double digits.
Eric carried one of Juaquin's old soccer balls under his arm, but we weren't exactly sure if we'd do anything more than kick it around. Zoe flitted about, rapidly texting on her phone, and was met at the park by one of her friends -- a cute girl with an
Ouran High School Host Club
messenger bag slung across her chest.
