Slight Detours | Wattys 2015

(1) JARED

Lucy nodded in approval, convinced that I would side with her when it came to matters of television. She couldn't be anymore wrong. I wasn't saying that out loud, though. Together, they climbed up the stairs, mom still laboring for Lucy in spite of her complaints. I waited for her in the kitchen, snacking on the crust of my pizza.

"Aren't you going to ask me to convince Mac and Vince to leave the XBOX?"

She wiped her hands on her apron, packing away the utensils.

"Contrary to my motherly instincts, no. Your dad wants to give you guys a break. The Television and the XBOX are all yours for the summer." It took me a few seconds to realize what she was saying. When I finally came to my senses, I let out a whoop of joy, fist pumping into the air.

"Heck yeah!" I hugged her tightly, thanking her repeatedly. When I let go, she stared at me, confused at first then her lips soon formed an amused smirk.

"Go on. I already told Mac and Vince this morning before they left. Mind you, the millisecond school starts all you boys loose you rights."

"Yeah," I said, pecking her on the cheek, "I got it, mom."

She smiled, ruffling my hair as I turned to leave. Then, I remembered something she said. "Wait," I spun around, "You told Mac and Vince but not me?" I feigned a betrayed look.

"It was eight in the morning. You were still asleep," she explained.

"You could've woken me," I muttered.

She shook her head, mumbling under her breath. "I don't understand you boys. A week ago, you tell me never, under any circumstances, should I disturb you while you are sleeping. Now, you're complaining because I did exactly what you asked?"

"Mom, I didn't mean that." I shot her a pointed expression. "If the house caught fire, I'm pretty sure I'd want to be woken up." The sarcasm oozed out of my words. Mom hated sarcasm or any kind of irony for the matter. I don't blame her. Dad, well, he loved irony. He probably used it once every two seconds. Believe me, it wasn't an understatement. To this very day, I still have no clue as to how they ended up getting married.

They hated each other when they'd met in college from what I knew. Dad was the cocky ass that he was and mom was the uptight goody-goody. The ultimate cliche. Whatever. The point was that they did get married, had three sons and a goblin.

Oops. I meant, a daughter.

Mom's scolding interrupted my thoughts. "Don't you dare talk smart with me, James," she threatened with a hard stare. As much as she tried, mom would never look menacing like she wanted. She could hardly keep her face straight during Adam Sandler comedies, much less during acts of punishment.

"Ma, I told you. It's Jared not James." I said, recalling who started calling me Jared in the first place. My guess was Mac.

"Your birth certificate says otherwise. You were born James Redly."

I turned away and followed with a flat look. "My birth certificate has nothing to do with this. It's a damn nickname."

"Language control."

I was about to push another snarky remark when Mac burst in, shirtless, only in his boxers. Laughing to myself, I didn't know whether to thank him or to wish him luck. He was a dead man. His face twisted in horror when he saw mom. Her jaw dropped, fury evident on her face.

"Mackintosh Steele!" she yelled, "I will have no son of mine parading around this house half-naked!"

Mac rolled his eyes but mom was having none of it. She took him by his ear, and dragged him up the steps "Put on a shirt this instant!" I could hear more arguing from upstairs and some curses directed at Vince.

I darted my way out of the kitchen into the living room where Vince lie lazily on the couch in practically the same outfit as Mac.

"So, you guys have fun at the beach?"

Vince cocked his left brow, pausing Halo 4 on the XBOX. "Lauren was being a bitch."

Lauren was Mac's secondhand Honda. It was originally tomato red but Mac and I decided to give it a paint job a couple of years back. The color we picked wasn't much better, though. It was a dull green color, almost grey. I'd told Mac to sell her instead and buy himself a motorbike but he loved her too much. It looked like sentimental ran in the family.

"I told you guys she needed a trip the the mechanic."

"Nah," he swatted my comment away, "Mac and I handled it."

"Handled it how exactly?" I asked, stealing the controller away from him and picking up where he left off on the level.

"We pushed the damn thing," A grin found its way to his face, both maniacal and knowing, "Then some hot chicks saw us and asked for our numbers. Score."

I shook my head at his attempted display of sexy faces. Yeah, they weren't working for him. Vince was only fifteen, after all, two years younger than me. "You should've gone, man. There was this really cute blonde named Lyssa. I think you would've liked her."

"Blondes aren't my type, Vince."

"Bullshit," he fires, shoving a handful of potato chips into his mouth.

"Your face is bullshit," I fired back.

All of a sudden, the TV screen turns pitch black and I throw the controller to the floor. I was about to destroy my old record, dammit. When I look back, Vince remains lazily draped on the couch.

"Wasn't my fault," he said.

"Nope," I looked up and saw dad. "It was mine."