No Strings Attached

Chapter 13: The Boy in The Closet

"My goodness, " she mumbled, stroking my face. "Maybe on the way home, I should give you some aspirin."

I smile a little. "Thank you, Mom."

Nodding some more, Mom promise to give me aspirin after breakfast.

Speaking of breakfast, Dad asked me and Aria if they would like to eat pancakes.

"Pancakes?" I repeated. 

"Yeah, " Dad smirked. "But we know you hadn't eaten that terrible hospital food. And I wanted to make triple chocolate pancakes for you two." 

Aria's stomach grumbled, while my mouth begins to water.

It has been a while since I have eaten Dad's famous pancakes.

Licking my lips, I say to Dad: "I would love to have some."

"Me too, " Aria agreed, hungrily.

With a huge grin, Dad tightens his steering wheel then drifted to the left.

In spite of the clustered lane, he manages to go around the passing cars, not caring about the vicious honking or the drivers' hateful looks. 

Instead, Dad focused on getting home in time for breakfast.

Passing through another green light, Dad says to Aria: "While you were in surgery, I sent your belongings back to your parents." 

Aria sighs in relief. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Jackson."

Smiling, my mom glanced at the rearview mirror then asked Aria: "so, how are your three older brothers doing?"

Her older brothers, Zach, Jason, and Isaac are at home, practicing their SATS. But during their free time, Aria and her siblings would play music.

Whether it's Jazz, Blues, Hip-Hop, or Pop, Aria and her siblings can play every song with a snap of their fingers.

However, the only two genres they do not perform are Country or Heavy Metal.

Chuckling Aria responded, "Despite being annoying, they are teaching me how to play the drums."

"Oh, " Mom said thoughtfully. "What kind of music do you play?"

"Anything with a beat, I guess." shrugged Aria.

Dad smiled in delight. "When I was your age, I used to play the bass guitar."

Aria widens her eyes. "Wow, really?"

"Yep, " he bragged, observing the road ahead. "I used to be tight with The Roots."

"The Roots?" I repeated. "They are practically celebrities."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I guess you're right, Nadine."

A white truck sailed across the road, as Dad navigates the red Subaru through the crazy streets of Manhattan.

Driving underneath the speed limit, he switched from lane to lane—hoping to get home faster.

Adjusting his rearview mirror, Dad continued, "back then, we had boom boxes, stylish clothes, and Fresh Prince. Now, all people ever care about are their phones and the type of shampoo conditioner Shawn Mendes uses."

Aria guffaw. "That is not true. I mean, my family and I love R&B. But I think they're a lot similar to Old School."

Dad frowned, shifting right. "R&B and old school are not the same, Aria."

Aria gave him a look.

"Not the same?" she snorts. "Have you seen their music videos? They sing about depression, sex, and Jesus more than Country music artists."