"This porch is really big," I said aloud to no one. I was sitting on the edge of my seat, a white plastic back yard chair that you could buy from any store in any town, anywhere. My arms rested on the railing of the big upstairs wrap around porch. My back was comfortably slouched, as I lay my head on my folded arms. In my hands was a huge tumbler glass full of ice water. The sun was setting, and the glare from its brightness was going directly into my eyes. Everything had a yellowish tint to it, making it seem like the world, at that precise moment, was as perfect as it looked.
"I used to come out here a lot when I was young too," Dad said from behind me. I look up from my arms, feeling groggy, and turned to watch as him walk from the sliding glass door, to the space next to me. Dad, who I had always seen as the perfect picture to what a man should be, was starting to seem hollow to me. It was odd watching him in this setting, in this house where he had grown up. I had seen him here a million times; I guess the odd part was we both knew that Grandma and Grandpa were not going to come out any second and demand quality time from us. They wouldn't ever be here to do that again.
"It's nice," I commented then looked more closely at him, he was ageing before my eyes, and it scared me. I quickly looked away and back down to my hands. My water rushed around in its cup making the ice tinkle against the edges. I tried to concentrate on that sound, not wanting to brake down in front of Dad. "How are you holding up?"
"Well, besides the urge to knock the shit out of Wes, as well as can be expected," he nodded. We were a nodding family, Mom, Dad, Wes, and I. I don't really know where it came from, but we seemed to always be nodding at everything. He moved his huge dark brown eyes down over the railing. "When did they get a pool?"
"Mom didn't know about it either, so it can't be more then a year old, because she was out here last June," I said but I was not sure if he was even listening. I felt helpless all of a sudden. Like there was something, I should be saying or doing but I was in the dark about what that was. I was in the dark about a lot things most of the time. I was the baby, so it is a feeling you get use to. People constantly trying to keep things from you so you do not get hurt, it was kind of nice sometimes, knowing that your family cared about your feelings that much, but other times it just plain sucked.
"Hmm," he supplied finally. He patted my back before returning inside. My gaze followed him as he walked through the sliding glass door again. His tall thin frame was slouched, his eyes glued to the ground. I had never seen him look so defeated before, so utterly torn apart, but then again, this was the first time someone in his life had died. I wish there was something more I could do, but I knew there wasn't.
The sun was hidden, almost completely now, behind the mountains bringing the world into twilight. A cool breeze pushed my hair over my eyes, irritating me. I stood and looked over the railing, lifted my glass, and poured it into the pooled water below. I followed Dad's sign of goodbye and patted the old wood that made up the porch before returning into the house, and shutting the glass door.
*******
Home.
I love that word. It fills me with total worth and love from old memories of growing up in a home, not a house. I had been out in the country for the last week with my parents and my older brother, Wes, trying to help them with the after affects of Dad's parents dieing.
It had been hard for me to look at their house, knowing they weren't in it. Wes had been everyone's strong hold though. He had taken over the preparations of the funeral for Mom. He had sat with Dad for hours, just waiting for him finally get everything in his head to a point where he could cry, or scream, or talk. For me though, Wes had pushed me around. He'd bullied me, yelled at me, and argued with me until I couldn't take it anymore and broke down. Somehow, Wes had always known how to take care of me, and everyone else in our now smaller family. Even though sometimes his tactics seemed horrible.
I had been close to my grandparents, even as I got older. I had had a phone date with them every Thursday night sense I had been old enough to use a telephone by myself. I hardly ever got to see them because I didn't know how to drive, to tell you the truth learning how to drive scared the shit out of me. I always saw them on holidays though, and sometimes when Wes went up to visit, I would tag along.
It was a huge surprise when we got the call from the police, saying they had flipped their RV on the I-15 Freeway twenty miles from Las Vegas, Nevada. Mom had called me, her voice tight and high, I could hear the tears as they fell. She didn't give me all the detail as to why they'd been all the way out there; I was still in shock that they were gone at that point. I remembered later the phone call I'd shared with Grandpa last Thursday.
"I'm taking your Granny to Vegas to renew our wedding vows Sport." He always called me Sport; mainly I think to make fun of me. The only sport I had ever been involved in, beside the football and soccer games I played with friends, was the swim team. Grandpa said swimming wasn't a sport, and the only reason to exercise the skill was so you didn't drowned. This from the man who loved to watch figure shaking; though I highly doubt that had been for the sport of it.
"Las Vegas huh? I'm sure she'd love it there, it's a desert." Grandma despised the country. She'd always complain about the snow, the leaves, the rain, and the sun. She was the one who taught me all the bad words I knew.
"Exactly, I have it all booked, just need to get the old bird in the car." I loved the old sayings Grandpa had always said. When I was younger, hearing him call Grandma a bird used to send me into a fit of giggles. I'm really going to miss those talks.
I know it's horrible of me, but the whole week I'd been out there in their house, all I'd wanted was to go home. I wanted to be alone. Now I was home, a small studio apartment I shared with all my belongings. I missed my family thought. I wished I hadn't of left so quickly, leaving them to pack up Grandma's cloths, and Grandpa's books.
I dropped my bags in the living room and sat heavily on the huge blue couch I couldn't get ride of, the couch I mean, I loved laying on it. I'd had it sense I had been born I think. I know most kids had stuff animals or blankets that they carry with them through out their lives but I had a couch. It'd been in my nursery when my parents brought me home. Mom had tried the rocking chair thing with Wes when he was a baby, but she always ended up on the living room couch rocking him, and her-self, back to sleep.
I think in her head, it'd been easier to just get one and put it in the room, so she didn't have to go down the stairs at night. In any case, it'd stayed in my room, until I turned seventeen and moved out, taking it with me. I'd had my first kiss, given my first blowjob, and came inches away from having sex for the first time on it. It was part of me.
I sighed, picking the cordless phone from its cradle on the side table, and dialed Tim's number. Tim and I had been seeing each other for three months. He'd been great to me so far, and all my weirdness. Even thought I left the country to be alone, I really didn't want to be, I needed someone around right then, I just hoped Tim was free.
"Mm hello?" someone that wasn't Tim asked. I pulled the phone away from my ear, checking the caller I.D. just to make sure I had the right phone number, I did.
"Hi, can I speck to Tim please," I said. I'm too polite, I should have been demanding to know who the fuck this guy was.
