Before the Rain

Seventeen: Take it From Me, This Isn't Living

Adam Olivas

I arrived home at around mid-morning, the smell of eggs and ham surrounding the entire house. Mama's breakfasts are always so fulfilling, even if they weren't exactly the healthiest.

As I shut the door behind myself, Mama appears from the kitchen with a confused and almost angry expression on her face, "Adam Vincent Olivas, where were you last night?"

I shrugged sheepishly, "Mama I'm twenty years old, I think I should be allowed to leave the house whenever I want."

She laughs, "Oh that's what you think. Well I'm glad to hear the rules you've established for yourself; or rather the lack of them."

"Mhmm! I'm an adult," I say, a lot stranger admitting out loud.

"That's right, an adult still living with his mother," she mutters under her breath, although I of course caught it.

I scoff in mock-offense, "Wow low blow, besides you're the one that wanted me to live here so we didn't have to pay for a dorm."

She waves her hand to shoo me away, in which I revel in my willingness to win absolutely insignificant arguments near the den.

Matt sits on one of the white faux suede sofas in front of the TV, which was flashing some awful colors of violence and gore. He, however, had his laptop in front of him, completely absorbed in whatever was going on in the computer screen.

I sit next to him, desperately changing the channel to some true crime division.

Matt shuts his laptop and turns to face me, "So where did you sneak off to at three in the fucking morning?"

"Is that really your business?" I counter in a caustic way.

He exhales knowingly, "Yes it actually is if you're going to wake up the whole goddamn house."

"Yeah I'm sorry about that."

"You gotta tell me though," Matt raises his eyebrows and leans closer to me on the couch, causing the faux suede to collapse onto itself between us.

I cave in, "Fine fine, Cal called me. He was having a hard time so I went over there to help him, y'know?"

He beams at me coyly, "Uh huh, so did ya fuck or..."

I feel my face go bright red, but I attempt to hide my embarrassment with sarcasm, "Oh yeah totally."

"Really?" His eyes go wide, as does his curious smile.

"Of course not he was having an anxiety attack! Jesus H. Christ stop being such a hormonal teenager," I say to him, deciding that I in fact needed to escape this conversation before it got anymore unnecessarily sexualized.

As I get up to leave he stops me, "Okay but seriously bro, when's the last time?"

I scoff at him, "Are you serious?"

"You're avoiding the question," he informs me in such a smug way.

He can be such a dick sometimes I swear.

I bite my lower lip attempting to recall the last sexual experiences I've had. Not going to lie, there haven't been many. And for good reason too: I preferred emotional love over physical love. Being attracted to a body is easy, being attracted to the person, that's something of a challenge. No one will ever be quite the same on the inside. Maybe they wear the same jean size or have the same facial structure, but no one has the exact same personality. Especially someone like Cal.