Kidnapped Love

Chapter 7

"Not when I'm annoyed," I snapped, making my feelings towards Ron evident.

For a moment, silence hung in the air, until he broke it with an offer, "This can all be over if we go get Trish."

"We can't just show up there. I will text her later and see what time is good for her," I reasoned, hoping to find a compromise. He reclined back on the couch, audibly huffing to convey his dissatisfaction with my response. I leisurely savored the last sips of my cooling hot chocolate, paying no heed to Ron's impatience as he aimlessly clicked through TV channels. His restless fingers began to tap against his leg, a sign of growing agitation. After finishing his drink, he retrieved the empty cup, carrying it into the kitchen, leaving the scene momentarily.

From the comfort of the living room, I raised my voice and called out to him, my words echoing through the house, bridging the physical distance between us.

"If you're bored, you can wash the dishes." I said.

"I'm not that bored." He yelled back after a moment of silence. I began to laugh to myself.

Ron did not come back for a few minutes but every few seconds I heard him rustling around in the kitchen cupboards and drawers. He opened the refrigerator a few times and then went back to rummaging through the cupboards.

Finally, emerging triumphantly, Ron cradled a grand cookie sheet laden with an array of delectable pastries and savory snacks. His impromptu makeshift tray, an unconventional indulgence, adorned with a dish towel draped gracefully around his neck like an epicurean bib. I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at his peculiar display.

Curiosity piqued, I ventured forth and posed the inevitable question, only to be met with an innocent gaze and a simple response.

"I'm bored." He said.

Concerned for his well-being amidst this feast, I expressed my apprehension, gesturing towards the amalgamation of treats he was about to devour.

"You are going to get sick if you eat all that."

Unperturbed, Ron proceeded, relishing each morsel without heeding my cautionary words. As I reluctantly turned my attention to the television, my senses were assailed by the crinkling of wrappers and the rhythmic sound of his voracious appetite. However, the commotion was momentarily interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and closing, announcing the arrival of Lori, our mother. Inquisitiveness getting the better of me, I excused myself, leaving behind the gastronomic spectacle. Slowly making my way to the kitchen, I found Lori engaged in the hurried preparation of a sandwich, her movements swift and purposeful. As I approached the sink, the warm water cascading over my cup, I couldn't help but muse at the contrasting scenes unfolding around me - the insatiable hunger of Ron, the bustling energy of Lori, and the tranquil stillness enveloping me.

"Hey, what are you up to?" she said, glancing up at me with her eyes filled with curiosity. Her voice carried a hint of anticipation, as if expecting an exciting response.

The soft glow of the television illuminated the room, casting dancing shadows on the walls, as I stood by the drying rack, setting down a cup. Meanwhile, she gracefully moved towards a stack of papers placed on the table, her eyes fixated on the important documents.

"I'm watching TV with Ron," I replied, my voice matching her level of enthusiasm, hoping to match her excitement.

"That's good, any plans for today?" she asked, her words tumbling out in a rapid succession, revealing her busy state of mind. Her attention shifted momentarily from the papers to me, seeking an answer. "Actually, Trish is sleeping over tonight," I answered hesitantly, hopeful for her approval, tiptoeing around her bustling schedule.