The One who got Away

“No, they taught me how to find someone’s weakness and use it against them,” I replied. “For example, one more snarky comment from you, and your phone is mine.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Get used to it,” I said. “Now get some sleep.”

Kelly rolled over with a huff. I smiled and switched off the light.

“She likes you, you know?” Kelly mumbled.

“Phone privileges, chipmunk.”

I closed the door to the sound of one of her usual, pre-teen groans and made my way downstairs. The lights were out on the ground floor, and I could hear the distant snores of my father behind his closed door. The man still sounds like a steam mower, I thought, remembering how his snoring had always kept me up as a kid.

I closed my bedroom door, thankful that Samuel was sleeping downstairs, and gazed at the bed, pondering whether or not I had the energy to actually change the sheets. I was exhausted, and ever since we had gotten back home, my leg had started acting up again.

Just get it over with.

I sighed, pulled the dusty sheets off the bed and rummaged through the closet for fresh ones. Within twenty minutes I was undressed and lying in bed, the window above the desk open to let in the night’s breeze. It felt good not having to turn on an air conditioner, and I closed my eyes, replaying the events of the day in my head until I fell asleep.

* * *

For some reason, I was thinking about Janice, how she was always laughing.

If there was one thing nobody could deny, it was that Janice had an incredible sense of humor and had no shame in laughing out loud when she was genuinely happy. It was one of those things people found incredibly charming about her.

It was one of the things that made me fall in love with her over and over again.

“Okay, wise guy, if you want to play it that way,” Janice said. “My sister, my mother and Britney.”

“Wait, which one’s Britney?” I asked.

We were both drunk, sprawled on the living room floor with wine glasses in our hands and Boyz 2 Men playing in the background. It was a Saturday, and instead of going out, we had opted for a night in watching Friends reruns and eating popcorn. It was one of the few days I had off and I didn’t want to spend it anywhere else but home, with her. Only her.

“She’d be offended,” Janice said.

“Britney’s the art critic, right? The one who tried to sell us that painting of a dog shitting on a stone?”

Janice laughed and kicked at me. “That was a beautiful work of abstract art!”

“Looked like a dog shitting on a stone.”

“Whatever,” Janice laughed, sipping on her wine. “Yes, that’s Britney.”

“Okay, I would definitely fuck Britney,” I started.

“Expected.”

I frowned at her, smiling, and continued, “Marry your sister.”

“Gross.”

“Would you stop interrupting me?”

“That’s gross, and you know it.”

“It’s the friggin’ game,” I laughed. “And I would kill your mother.”

Janice shrugged and nodded. “Makes sense.”