My year went by, and neither my mama nor I seemed to notice. And neither was I any closer to achieving my goal of being a professional writer. Every time I managed to save any money something would come up, and oops, there it went.
Isaiah Eddison comes over every Sunday to pick up Jeremy for their ongoing Dungeons and Dragons game. Isaiah is approximately six foot twelve with ample abdomen and tree trunks for legs. He has ebony skin and thick glasses. Many people are intimidated by looking at him, but he's really just a nerdy goofball. Sometimes he comes by and plays video games with Jeremy. They go to Tulane together, and I became accustomed to seeing him around even if he and I didn't interact much.
One day I come home from work to see Isaiah and Jeremy watching Deep Space Nine.
"Hey man, how's it going?" Isaiah jovially asked.
"Hey."
I walk past them, and Jeremy calls at me, "There's some chicken in the fridge."
I go into the kitchen. I open the fridge and see the Popeye's box. I peek it open but decide I'm not that hungry just yet. I poured myself so root beer, though I headed to my room. I took a sip and set the cup on my nightstand. I laid down on my bed and ended up falling asleep eventhough the sun has yet to set.
When I awoke, my room was dark and my soda flat. I turned on my bedside lamp. The air conditioner send waves of cool air over me. I lifted myself, fully awake and walked out into the kitchen. I pulled a chicken leg out of the box and bit into it. They skin had become a bit soggy, and the cold meat was extra sinewy. All the lights in the place were off except a floor lamp in the living room and the television. Jeremy was sitting in the couch with a textbook open and writing in a notebook. The TV was playing some kind of monster movie with special effects that were obviously computer generated.
I sit in the chair next to the couch. We both sat in silence. A large, green computer generated tentacle came out of the water and computer generatedly shook a man and threw him at a computer generated background before going for a screaming woman who was not quite looking exactly in the direction of the monster.
Jeremy initiated conversation, which is something I rarely do.
"So how was your day?"
"Fine, I guess. Same as any other day."
"Cool."
"So how about you?"
"It was good. Nothing much happened. Our Civics class got cancelled, and Isaiah and I came here and watched TV. But I got to get my homework done because I'm sure Dr. Trotter is still going to have the exam on Thursday anyway."
"Oh. Yeah."
And that was that. Jeremy went back to his school work, and I finished watching the movie. Turns out computer generated tentacle monsters can die by a flame thrower. Who knew?
After a couple of hours, Jeremy went to bed, but I stayed up and watched television. A computer generated bug monster terrorized Los Angeles. Computer generated aliens traumatized New York City, Paris, London, and Tokyo specifically. And then the silent films began with their overacting and heavily applied make-up.
Some vamp was seducing a man when the first rosy fingers of morn fumbled through the window shades. Still wide awake I went back to my room where I laid down and pretended to sleep until sleep eventually came.
MEEP! MEEP! MEEP! MEEP! MEEP! MEEP! MEEP!
My alarm went off for me to get ready for work. Being too drowsy to even open my eyes completely, I called in sick.
"Are you sure that you want to call in sick today?"
"I'm just not feeling well. I was up all night with what I think was food poisoning."
"When you come in Saturday, we are going to have a talk."
See, the thing is I've been taking alot of days off of work lately. I've been too tired and getting stomach aches in the mornings which would usually disappear before noon, but it was already after I'd called off.
Saturday came, and I met with my boss, Beth.
She told me, "If you can't take your job seriously, then perhaps you aren't the best person for our company."
And just like that I was fired.
I went straight home and laid in bed until Jeremy got home. I told him the bad news.
"What the fuck, man!"
"Sorry, I..."
"How are you going to pay your portion of the rent now? And you owe me half the electric bill too. What's wrong with you?"
"I think I'm going to move out."
"Fuck, man. Thanks for giving a dude some warning. Rent is due in a week. Are you going to be able to pay that?"
I moved back in with my mama. Uncle Ernie let us borrow his van, and we packed everything up and moved in a day. I didn't have much, and the largest thing was my bed.
My mama was glad to have me back. She said it just got so lonely coming home to an empty house every day. I quickly began to know what she meant. She picked up extra shifts at the hospital, probably just for something to do. I felt as lonely as she did most of the time.
I'd make dinner every day. I never was a good cook, but if it came in a box I could figure it out. I never knew when my mama would come from work, so I'd always just put her portion on a plate and cover it in aluminum foil and place it in the fridge.
She never made me get a job, because it wasn't much more of an expense to have me here, and she was just happy to have her boy home. She told me this often. I usually occupied my days by doing chores around the house: washing dishes, vacuuming, laundry, and I'd take the bus to make groceries. I would mow the lawn once a week at night. It's too hot to mow during the day.
I'd like to say I became more productive with my writing, but I wasn't. The most I'd ever do was write a snippet of some idea on a sheet of paper, but as soon as I try to develop the idea my mind would blank. How could I ever be a writer like this?
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