| CHAPTER THIRTEEN
| family stock photos
ᴏᴀᴋʟᴇʏ ᴄᴀʀʀɪʟʟᴏ
My Saturday was underwhelming, to say the least. She decided it was a great idea to both hang out with me and her two weird friends, except I was basically just a driver and a chaperone.
"Why take me with you if you barely even talk to me?" I asked her on the way home.
"I'm sorry, alright? But Molly's cousin is flying back home tomorrow so we wanted to say goodbye. It's not that late, maybe we could still catch a movie."
"I'm tired now. And I have to send in my demos tomorrow, so I have to at least try to sleep before midnight."
"Then can't we hang out tomorrow after you send in your demos? Or even just get lunch at Dad's? Please?"
"I don't understand why you're acting like I'm leaving forever. It's just three months and I have tour dates in California right in the middle." I'd had tours a lot longer and further away than this.
"Yeah," she said, resting her head against the window. "That's not the same."
"I know it's not the same, but I'll be back before Christmas. Then things can calm down."
"And then you'll be twenty which is like a solid adult and you'll be tired of living with two old people and a child."
"I won't ever get tired of— wait, that's what this is about?"
My sister sat in the passenger's seat quietly, looking out the window like it was a lot more interesting.
"Trisha."
"If I'd known things would be like this, I would've posted that video a lot later."
The whole reason I had a career in the first place was because she posted videos of me singing in my room, and emailed a bunch of important people in the industry when she was ten.
"How much is a lot?" I asked her.
"Probably the past five years I've missed out on. But to be fair, you probably would've left for college two years ago. Or three? I don't know. I bet you would've been happier."
"I am happy," I said.
"Yeah. For now," she mumbled. I didn't know what to do it say to make her feel better anymore, so I just left it alone.
My Wednesday however, turned out a lot better. Better than expected, maybe.
"I'm not gonna go into detail about it, but it was terrible," Nolan said. He had some kind of dinner yesterday, and I'd called him to ask him about it. He seemed to be a lot more comfortable around me, and he told me a lot more, though clearly not everything. But I didn't expect him to, which he seemed to appreciate. "We played Truth or Dare, but with only Truths."
"So you asked each other questions?"
"Basically, yeah. But this guy insisted that it wasn't the same. It was a disaster anyway. There was this kid and well, not all questions were very kid-appropriate, so we had to be vague and shit."
"Yeah, sounds like a total shit show," I said. "My week hadn't been as eventful. I wrote two songs, and they're due by Sunday. I just need to polish them up a bit."
"Can I hear?" he asked. I smiled. I was hoping he would ask.
I pulled one of my acoustics off my wall and started playing a simple melody in F sharp.
I hadn't fully figured the lyrics out yet, but by the vibe of the instrumentals I thought of, I knew I wanted this to be the second to last song on the album. The one about acceptance, and being at peace.
The other one was a perfect last one. It was about being fine with ending the way I was, but opening myself up to new experiences and opportunities. And although I had a melody and lyrics for that one, I didn't play it yet. I felt like that one had to be perfect before anyone could hear it.
"That's beautiful, Oakley," he said.
"Genuinely?"
"Yeah. It's... it's... calming."
I couldn't help but laugh. "You don't have to force it. But the effort is nice."
"Yeah, I'm sorry," he said, letting out a small, awkward chuckle.
"Wanna hang out soon?" I asked him. "I wouldn't know what to do, but I bet we'll figure something out."
He was completely silent for quite a while, and I could hear ruffling of his sheets from his side of the phone call.
"Yeah," he said, but he wasn't very convincing. "I think I'm free tomorrow, as long as it's after three."
"Is something wrong?" I asked him. "You sound unsure."
"No, it's fine. If you want we can hang out at my place."
"Perfect. Maybe we can watch a movie or something. Or you can prove to me that you can actually bake."
"I do bake. And I will prove it to you," he told me.
"Then I'll be at your place tomorrow at three."
"Perfect."
"Good night, Nolan."
"You too."
He was the one to end the call, and I gently placed my guitar back on the wall.
"Why are you smiling like that?" Trisha asked, leaning against my doorpost. I hadn't noticed the muscles in my cheeks aching until now. I bit back my smile, sitting back down on my bed.
"Can I not be happy?"
"Uhm, no. Not like this. I thought you said you don't fall in love."
"I'm not falling in love," I said, rolling my eyes. "What does that have to do with me being happy?"
"Being in love makes people this happy."
"I'm just making friends. Unlike you, I actually only befriend those of whom I like the company."
"Alright then, if that's what you want me to believe," she mumbled. "Wanna go do something now?" she asked.
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Play video games, watch a movie, build a pillow fort."
"Aren't we a little old to build pillow forts? And isn't it a little late?"
She shrugged. "I'm bored and want to spend time with my stupid brother who leaves in a month."
I thought back to our conversation from earlier. I did want to spend time with her, but I needed to be in the studio in the early morning and was supposed to meet Nolan in the afternoon. I couldn't sacrifice any sleep. "Alright. How about Saturday. You're free Saturday and I'll have finished my songs by then. We'll have the whole day."
"I planned a day at the mall with Molly and her cousin this Saturday."
"Can't you go with them on Sunday? You can't make it late anyway, and Saturday is the perfect day."
"I'll talk to them tomorrow," she said. "Good night, big brother."
I spread my arms to hug her, but she flipped me off and slammed my door shut.
•••
"I've never seen you wearing glasses," I told Nolan when he'd opened his door. "Are they new?"
"No," he said. He looked pretty relaxed today. He was wearing a basic pair of grey sweats and a white t-shirt, which I assumed meant he hadn't actually left the house. His glasses were simple, silver-rimmed ones. You'd think glasses would tear the attention away from the eyes, but in his case, it was the opposite.
"They look nice on you."
"Thank you," he said, turning around quickly so I could follow him inside.
His house wasn't particularly special. The walls were white, there were some pictures scattered along here and there, most of them professionally shot. And from there I could tell he'd always had bad eyesight, because in some of the pictures he was wearing glasses at no older than maybe thirteen. A different pair which maybe didn't frame his face as nicely, but they were there.
"God, don't look at those. I was atrocious looking. I didn't know how to take out my contacts yet."
"I think these are cute," I said. "Just so..."
"I like to call these our family stock photos. My parents never wanted children."
"What?"
"Wow, that sounded terrible," he said, scratching at his neck. "I was an accident, but my parents wanted to keep me. I know they love me but it always kinda felt like something was missing. It's like you can see it in the pictures."
"Oh." Now that he was actually opening up to me, I didn't know what to say.
"I'm sorry. I made this so awkward," he said, continuing walking.
"No, it's fine," I said. "I think I just don't understand. I don't think I was planned either, yet we grew up so differently." My dad was still building up the restaurant when I was born, and my mom had only just passed the bar exam." I had heard the stories of the mess my parents' life was before I was born.
My dad had a job at a very expensive restaurant, but he was only a waiter. His hours were a mess but he was saving up to start something himself. By some miracle, the building of what is now my dad's restaurant went for sale, so he got it, but only because my mom pitched in and decided to get rid of their small apartment. They slept in what is now the restaurant's office for months, and my dad worked two jobs as my mom had gotten pregnant. We lived in another small apartment by the time I was born, and then the restaurant blew up. And my mom's career took off. By the time I was five and Trisha was born, we lived where we live now.
"Yeah, it's kinda difficult to explain." We eventually reached a room which I assumed was the living room or a sitting room. I followed him across the room, into yet another hallway. At the end of it, there was a huge spiraling staircase.
"I had an interview this morning. My room isn't usually this neat," he said as we walked up two flights of the spiraling staircase. When he opened the door to his room, I was still hung up on the fact that the walls on the bottom floor apparently didn't reach all the way to the top. From up here you could tell the height of the walls matched up with the second floor, so you had a full overview of the living room and the hallways.
"Oakley? You coming?" he asked. I turned around, and his green eyes met my own eyes almost instantly.
"Hi. Yeah," I said, following him to his room.
His room was very large. It could've been its own apartment, honestly, except it was lacking a kitchen. But I didn't pay too much attention to it.
"We should've bought a large tub of ice cream," I said. "God do I regret not buying some right now."
"I might have some in my freezer. Wanna come or are you staying up here?"
"Do you run up these two sets of stairs every single time you want some ice cream?"
"I guess so," he said. "I take it you're staying up here. I'll be right back."
When he left I really had the time to explore his room. It really was neat, except for the part of his room at the very wall of his desk. Clothes were carelessly thrown into a washing bin and a bunch of printed out pieces of paper were sprawled out on his desk. Along the wall opposite his door were a bunch of awards, certificates, and random props which I guessed he got from sets.
His bed was large. A kingsize bed, for just a single person. I tended to move around a lot in my sleep, but anything larger than a standard queen made me have nightmares of drowning.
Nolan walked back in with two spoons, two small glass bowls, and a large tub of chocolate ice cream.
"Did you ever get to try the Belgian chocolates I gave you?" I asked.
"Oh, I forgot about them," he said, hastily walking towards his desk and pulling out a drawer. He pulled the familiar box out of it. "Should I try before or after my ice cream? Wait, probably after, right? I don't want to ruin it for myself."
"The ice cream is safe," I assured him. "You happen to have chocolate somewhere in here too?"
He searched around in the drawer and found a small bar of Hershey's chocolate.
"I don't think anything can beat this though. The shittiest chocolate is usually the most satisfying."
"We need a fair comparison. Do you have anything midrange?"
"Not in here. Wait." He walked past me to get to his nightstand, where he pulled out a Lindt chocolate bar. Dark chocolate, which would be the perfect comparison.
"Look, that's the perfect example of Americanized Swiss chocolate."
"It's my favorite brand. You better not ruin this for me." He took his glasses off, which I didn't fully understand, but I didn't question it.
"Let's be quick before the ice cream melts." He opened the box of the chocolates I gave him, and he immediately started on one. I grabbed one too, and it was still as good as I remembered.
"They're good," he said. But he didn't seem very excited about it. That was how I felt at first.
He then opened the branded chocolate bar and broke off a piece for me, and then a piece for himself too.
"Okay, you're right," he said quickly after. "It tastes a little weird now."
"Right?"
"Wait."
He took out the Hershey's and tried that.
"Yup, that does taste like it has a hint of vomit in it now," he said, putting it away, trading it for the Lindt bar. "But I can still finish this one."
"Maybe it's time for us to start on the ice cream now," I suggested, grabbing it from his desk.
"Fine," he said.
Lots of talking and ice cream and chocolate later, we were both laying on his bed, our noses pointed at the ceiling.
"I think this is the sugar crash," I told him, turning my face to watch him. From this angle, it was easier to see a few subtle freckles dusted on the bridge of his nose. I hadn't noticed them before, but they were there.
"That explains why I'm so tired. And we haven't even had dinner yet." He glanced at me, and his face reddened almost immediately. I smiled, finding it somewhat funny how easily he seemed to blush.
"Right. Dinner," I said. If I was being honest, I'd forgotten I needed something more substantial to eat. "We can just order pizza, right?"
"Yeah."
So we did exactly that. When we were going up, though, Nolan decided to go the complete opposite direction from his door. I followed him without question, and we walked into a second, smaller room. We didn't stop there though. We crossed the spare room and we straight to what I now could see was a balcony.
"I don't usually come here, but it's a nice place to have pizza," he said. "If I bring you here at least once, we're officially friends."
"Shit, I thought bringing you chocolates from overseas would've already done the trick."
"I mean, maybe I wouldn't have brought you here if you hadn't given me those chocolates."
The view from the balcony was insane. You could see his entire backyard and part of the woods.
"We should come here more often," I told him. Though I did get a little anxious as I looked straight down. "Holy fuck, we're high up."
"Yeah," he said, sitting down at a chair in the very corner. He didn't seem bothered by the altitude at all.
"Have you ever tried putting a telescope up here? I bet you'd get such a great view."
"I mean, it's not exactly a skyscraper," he said.
"It's high enough to not be bothered by the trees." I would sometimes sit on the roof of my dad's restaurant for that exact reason, as it had a flat roof. "We should try it sometime."
"You're such a nerd, aren't you?" he asked, laughing at me. But not in a hateful way. Like he thought it was funny that I enjoyed something as small as watching stars.
"Just wait till it's dark out. You should look at the sky more often."
"Fine," he said, taking the pizzas of out the bag, and throwing me a bottle of water.
I sat down on the chair next to him, and he put the pizzas down on the third one as the only thing missing here seemed to be a table. But I didn't have anything to complain about. Everything out here was perfect.
| DRINKING GAME:
Take a shot every time I've used the word "chocolate" in this chapter.