Rule #9 by Sheri Duff
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I go back to the house only because I think about the dogs. I’m probably the only one who will remember they need food. I’m not mad. It’s a fact. Alicia shouldn’t have to worry about anything but her dad. I fill the dog dishes with a scoop of dry kibble. I plop the metal bowls onto the kitchen floor. Buster and Loki sniff at the food, and then follow me into the living room. “You miss him too, don’t you?” I say.
Benny had taken over the care of the animals. Either the dogs know Benny’s gone or he’s been adding goodies to their diets. I lay on the couch, pulling a blanket over me. The dogs nestle in. I send Alicia a text.
Me: Went home to feed the dogs please txt me when your dad is out of surgery
Alicia: Thank you for taking care of us
As soon as my head hits the pillow, I dream that Alicia leaves my father. This should make me happy, but the part of the dream that jolts me awake is Benny saying goodbye.
The smell of coffee fills the house. Whoever‘s in the kitchen stays quiet, which means it’s Alicia. I’m hoping that’s a good sign. My father can’t keep quiet even when sleeping. When he moves, it’s with force and when he sleeps, he snores. It’s loud.
I pull myself from the couch. I’m alone. The dogs must have ditched me for Alicia. I rub my eyes and shuffle my way toward the caffeine.
“Good morning.” Jack’s voice ricochets from the island.
I jump and turn away. I can only imagine how I look.
Jack doesn’t give me time to wonder. “Wow. Your eyes look like two fried eggs in a slop bucket.”
“Shut up,” I say, covering my face.
“Girl, I’m just playing. If you get ready, I’ll make you breakfast.”
I dart up the stairs. My vanity has gotten the best of me. Then reality sets in and worry takes over. I don’t care what I look like. I run back down to the kitchen.
Jack covers his eyes. “I won’t look. Surgery went well. He’s fine. Alicia won’t leave until he wakes up. I was called to check on you. Oh, and I can’t cook.” Jack pours cereal into a bowl.
“Who called you?”
He peeks through his fingers. “The hair’s kinda sexy, but those eyes, they’re still freaking me out.”
I want to hit him. I want kiss him. But I’m sure my mouth smells rank. It feels like someone shoved a cotton ball in the back of my throat. I run back up the stairs.
The shower feels good. It’s hot. I let the water run over my neck as I scrub my teeth. The couch twisted my entire body out of whack. Maybe Lily called him. My dad wouldn’t do that. A boy in the house with me, alone? No way. Alicia has enough on her mind without worrying about me. I don’t know how long I’ve stood here letting the heat penetrate my muscles. I figure I better wash my hair before the hot water vanishes.
Navy blue sweatpants, a spaghetti-stained Stallion t-shirt, bare feet, no makeup, and my hair on top of my head in a ball with pieces sticking out. I gallop down the stairs. If he makes fun of me now, I’ll kick him.
I sit next to Jack. He smells good, coconut without the cinnamon today. “You’re kinda pretty when you clean up.” Jack leans over and kisses my cheek.
His hair has grown, and the curls are sticking out of his cap. I don’t think he’s shaved in a couple of days, either. His whiskers have lost that itchy feel and are soft. He doesn’t look all Duck Dynasty with neck hair or anything, he looks damn sexy.
“If you could cook, you’d be perfect,” I say, grabbing the gallon of milk and pouring some into my bowl of Raisin Bran. Cooking isn’t on my list, so it really doesn’t matter. He’s wearing a Denver Bronco football jersey with 27 on the front and Atwater on the back. “Like your jersey. Looks like you’ve finally crossed over to the right orange.”
“He’s one of my favorite players,” Jack says.
“He should be in the Hall of Fame,” I say. “I guess six tackles, a sack, and a forced fumble in that Super Bowl don’t mean anything.”
Jack hands me a spoon. “Alicia’s been sending me texts, since you won’t respond.”
I look around for my phone. I go out to the living room. I find it on the couch buried between the cushions. It’s off. I try to turn it back on but the battery’s dead.
The theme song from Friday Night Lights pulls Jack’s eyes to his cell phone. The song is his ring tone for all texts.
Jack looks down at his screen. He reads aloud, “Benny woke up long enough to talk briefly.” He stops and looks up at me. His voice cracks. “I just met him. I can’t imagine what Alicia’s going through. He’s a cool guy.”
I sit back down at the kitchen table. I move the filled spoon from the bowl into my mouth and chew the cereal slowly. Benny not in my life? I can’t bear to think about it either. The man who I had made fun of at my father’s wedding has become my confidant; I would be lost without him. He’s my sounding board that doesn’t try to fix everything. He listens and he shares but he never tells me what to do.
I can’t eat. I push the cereal away and stand. I rummage through the junk drawer and find a charger to hook my phone up. Nothing.
“Great.” I rip the cord out and plug it back in.
Jack holds out his hand. I slap the phone into his palm.
He unplugs it and then plugs it back in. “Nothing,” he says.
“No shit. What? You think if you did it, the phone would work?” Boys annoy me when they do things like that. I’m not weak. And Jack doesn’t possess superpowers. The phone is broke. Period.
“Whoa, Nellie,” he says. He hunts in the drawer and pulls out another charger. “I thought maybe the charger didn’t work.” The second attempt doesn’t work either. “Let’s try the one in my car.” I think this last attempt is to prove that he isn’t trying to one-up me. It’s sweet. His charger doesn’t fit my phone.
“I’ll go to the store. My mom has one of those plans if the phone breaks or I lose it, they’ll replace it.”
“Okay. I have to go pick up my mom at the airport.”
“Is she visiting?” I force myself to keep my tone balanced. His mom’s out there—way out there. If there were a Hillbilly Housewives show and she auditioned for it, the producers would cast her immediately. I really don’t want to deal with her again.
“Not my mama. Sissy’s coming. I don’t call her my stepmom. It doesn’t sound right. She’s been more than a mom to me, more than my own mother ever was. Anyway, she’s coming to look at houses.” Jack looks down at his watch.
“Don’t be late picking her up. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. Can you let someone know that my phone’s dead so they don’t worry? Or think I’m being nasty.”
“Do you really hate Alicia?” Jack asks.
“No, I don’t really hate Alicia. I’m mad at my dad. And if you must know, I think I was wrong about her.”
He leans in, and his soft lips touch mine. I want to pull him closer and never let him go. And as if he can sense what I am feeling, he pulls my body to his, his hands find their way up the back of my shirt. Our tongues touch, my body aches. He pulls away first. “I gotta go, before I don’t.” he says.
“Don’t,” I say.
“Later,” he winks.
“Hey, do you like Power Rangers?” I ask, thinking back to the list that I made when I was a little girl.
“Yeah. Mighty Morphin was my favorite when I was a kid.”
”What’s your favorite color?” I pull him back.
“I’ll tell you later.” He lifts me up and plants my butt on the counter, then walks away.
If I ever lose this one, I will die.
I go back to the house only because I think about the dogs. I’m probably the only one who will remember they need food. I’m not mad. It’s a fact. Alicia shouldn’t have to worry about anything but her dad. I fill the dog dishes with a scoop of dry kibble. I plop the metal bowls onto the kitchen floor. Buster and Loki sniff at the food, and then follow me into the living room. “You miss him too, don’t you?” I say.
Benny had taken over the care of the animals. Either the dogs know Benny’s gone or he’s been adding goodies to their diets. I lay on the couch, pulling a blanket over me. The dogs nestle in. I send Alicia a text.
Me: Went home to feed the dogs please txt me when your dad is out of surgery
Alicia: Thank you for taking care of us
As soon as my head hits the pillow, I dream that Alicia leaves my father. This should make me happy, but the part of the dream that jolts me awake is Benny saying goodbye.
The smell of coffee fills the house. Whoever‘s in the kitchen stays quiet, which means it’s Alicia. I’m hoping that’s a good sign. My father can’t keep quiet even when sleeping. When he moves, it’s with force and when he sleeps, he snores. It’s loud.
I pull myself from the couch. I’m alone. The dogs must have ditched me for Alicia. I rub my eyes and shuffle my way toward the caffeine.
“Good morning.” Jack’s voice ricochets from the island.
I jump and turn away. I can only imagine how I look.
Jack doesn’t give me time to wonder. “Wow. Your eyes look like two fried eggs in a slop bucket.”
“Shut up,” I say, covering my face.
“Girl, I’m just playing. If you get ready, I’ll make you breakfast.”
I dart up the stairs. My vanity has gotten the best of me. Then reality sets in and worry takes over. I don’t care what I look like. I run back down to the kitchen.
Jack covers his eyes. “I won’t look. Surgery went well. He’s fine. Alicia won’t leave until he wakes up. I was called to check on you. Oh, and I can’t cook.” Jack pours cereal into a bowl.
“Who called you?”
He peeks through his fingers. “The hair’s kinda sexy, but those eyes, they’re still freaking me out.”
I want to hit him. I want kiss him. But I’m sure my mouth smells rank. It feels like someone shoved a cotton ball in the back of my throat. I run back up the stairs.
The shower feels good. It’s hot. I let the water run over my neck as I scrub my teeth. The couch twisted my entire body out of whack. Maybe Lily called him. My dad wouldn’t do that. A boy in the house with me, alone? No way. Alicia has enough on her mind without worrying about me. I don’t know how long I’ve stood here letting the heat penetrate my muscles. I figure I better wash my hair before the hot water vanishes.
Navy blue sweatpants, a spaghetti-stained Stallion t-shirt, bare feet, no makeup, and my hair on top of my head in a ball with pieces sticking out. I gallop down the stairs. If he makes fun of me now, I’ll kick him.
I sit next to Jack. He smells good, coconut without the cinnamon today. “You’re kinda pretty when you clean up.” Jack leans over and kisses my cheek.
His hair has grown, and the curls are sticking out of his cap. I don’t think he’s shaved in a couple of days, either. His whiskers have lost that itchy feel and are soft. He doesn’t look all Duck Dynasty with neck hair or anything, he looks damn sexy.
“If you could cook, you’d be perfect,” I say, grabbing the gallon of milk and pouring some into my bowl of Raisin Bran. Cooking isn’t on my list, so it really doesn’t matter. He’s wearing a Denver Bronco football jersey with 27 on the front and Atwater on the back. “Like your jersey. Looks like you’ve finally crossed over to the right orange.”
“He’s one of my favorite players,” Jack says.
“He should be in the Hall of Fame,” I say. “I guess six tackles, a sack, and a forced fumble in that Super Bowl don’t mean anything.”
Jack hands me a spoon. “Alicia’s been sending me texts, since you won’t respond.”
I look around for my phone. I go out to the living room. I find it on the couch buried between the cushions. It’s off. I try to turn it back on but the battery’s dead.
The theme song from Friday Night Lights pulls Jack’s eyes to his cell phone. The song is his ring tone for all texts.
Jack looks down at his screen. He reads aloud, “Benny woke up long enough to talk briefly.” He stops and looks up at me. His voice cracks. “I just met him. I can’t imagine what Alicia’s going through. He’s a cool guy.”
I sit back down at the kitchen table. I move the filled spoon from the bowl into my mouth and chew the cereal slowly. Benny not in my life? I can’t bear to think about it either. The man who I had made fun of at my father’s wedding has become my confidant; I would be lost without him. He’s my sounding board that doesn’t try to fix everything. He listens and he shares but he never tells me what to do.
I can’t eat. I push the cereal away and stand. I rummage through the junk drawer and find a charger to hook my phone up. Nothing.
“Great.” I rip the cord out and plug it back in.
Jack holds out his hand. I slap the phone into his palm.
He unplugs it and then plugs it back in. “Nothing,” he says.
“No shit. What? You think if you did it, the phone would work?” Boys annoy me when they do things like that. I’m not weak. And Jack doesn’t possess superpowers. The phone is broke. Period.
“Whoa, Nellie,” he says. He hunts in the drawer and pulls out another charger. “I thought maybe the charger didn’t work.” The second attempt doesn’t work either. “Let’s try the one in my car.” I think this last attempt is to prove that he isn’t trying to one-up me. It’s sweet. His charger doesn’t fit my phone.
“I’ll go to the store. My mom has one of those plans if the phone breaks or I lose it, they’ll replace it.”
“Okay. I have to go pick up my mom at the airport.”
“Is she visiting?” I force myself to keep my tone balanced. His mom’s out there—way out there. If there were a Hillbilly Housewives show and she auditioned for it, the producers would cast her immediately. I really don’t want to deal with her again.
“Not my mama. Sissy’s coming. I don’t call her my stepmom. It doesn’t sound right. She’s been more than a mom to me, more than my own mother ever was. Anyway, she’s coming to look at houses.” Jack looks down at his watch.
“Don’t be late picking her up. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. Can you let someone know that my phone’s dead so they don’t worry? Or think I’m being nasty.”
“Do you really hate Alicia?” Jack asks.
“No, I don’t really hate Alicia. I’m mad at my dad. And if you must know, I think I was wrong about her.”
He leans in, and his soft lips touch mine. I want to pull him closer and never let him go. And as if he can sense what I am feeling, he pulls my body to his, his hands find their way up the back of my shirt. Our tongues touch, my body aches. He pulls away first. “I gotta go, before I don’t.” he says.
“Don’t,” I say.
“Later,” he winks.
“Hey, do you like Power Rangers?” I ask, thinking back to the list that I made when I was a little girl.
“Yeah. Mighty Morphin was my favorite when I was a kid.”
”What’s your favorite color?” I pull him back.
“I’ll tell you later.” He lifts me up and plants my butt on the counter, then walks away.
If I ever lose this one, I will die.