The Specks of Smallness

Aaron | Fourteen

Aaron | Fourteen

In the midst of watching reruns of Medium with Mom, I feel a buzzing in my pocket. Mom, too occupied by Netflix, doesn't blink an eye as I walk by her, reaching into my sweats, fishing for my phone.

When I pull my phone out my pocket, there's a sigh of relief. It's Reagan calling. For some reason, I'm wanting to talk to her. But ever since Dad left me here with Mom, I've been wanting to talk to anyone that would talk to me. Reagan seems like the only one; Elin is still stuck up the asses of others.

"Phillips," she says before I can say anything. She sounds anxious, like she's been waiting to call me or something. I wonder if she has the sly smile on her face.

"Reagan," I start. "Hey. What's up?"

There's this silence. I can hear her breathing. Every time there's silence between us, I can hear her breathing. Finally, she says, "So, I'm pretty stoned right now. And guess where the best place in world to get de-stoned is?"

"I've never been stoned so I wouldn't know." No wonder I could constantly hear her breathing. Has she been high every time she's seen me? Or just on the edge?

"Do you think I care? Guess the stupid answer!"

Rolling my eyes, I walk to my kitchen and reach for a snack. "I don't know. A roller skating rink?" There's no granola bars in the pantry even though the box is in there. Fucking Reagan.

Reagan bursts out laughing. "Why on this stupid earth would that place be even worth considering? No, you damn lousy-ass! Guess again!"

I shrug, even though she can't see it. That's a habit of mine--shrugging to myself, doing it more mentally than physically. "I don't know, Reagan. I seriously don't." I don't like this game she has me playing. It's both tiring and working my nerves. But I keep my temper down. There's no reason to fuck a new friendship up, if I can even call it a friendship. "Stoners have the munchies," I say. "Is the place a restaurant?"

"When I was little, I used to think that if I could hide beneath the slide, no harm was ever gonna touch me," I can hear a change of tone; she's getting serious. "Beneath that purple plastic shit, I felt safer than in my own home."

"You're going to a park?" I ask.

"Wrong again, Phillips. We are going to a park."

I look back at Mom watching Netflix. She's sitting with her legs crossed on the couch and a bowl of popcorn in her lap. She looks over at me and finds me staring at her. "Is something wrong?" she calls. I put my phone to my chest, say, "I think I'm going to the park," and she replies, asking why I'm going to the park in the winter.

"I need to do something," I answer. I put my phone back to my ear and hear Reagan repeatedly saying my name, getting angrier by the second, then softening up a bit. I hear the rumble of her car.

"You are doing something," Mom quips. "You're spending time with your mother."

"No offense, but spending time with you isn't my ideal thing to do during break."

"No offense," she starts, "but spending my time off work in the hospital giving birth to your ass wasn't my ideal thing." Mom smiles.

Bitch.

I'm stuck in the kitchen without anything to say, with the sound of Reagan's grumbling car and that shitty music she plays in her car in my ear. Mom stares at me and I stare at her. I hang up the phone and walk over to her. She doesn't pause the TV, so the sound of Patricia Arquette and her screaming fills the background.

"You know ever since Dad left you've been acting different, and right now you're acting like a bitch and frankly I don't appreciate it."

"I'm sorry, Aaron, but you need to realize that everything doesn't revolve around you!"