Cousins
CHAPTER ONE
ROMAN
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
I should notice Jade in the room, because she's basically standing directly in front of me with her legs shoulder width apart, both hands on her hips, and her miniature skull cocked to the side; but I'm so inside of my own head right now, it's almost as if she's a silhouette blending into the background with the rest of the furniture.
I should also probably hear everything Jade is saying to me, because she's popping her usual wad of god-awful gum in her mouth while talking completely at me, but even her voice is like white noise to me right now.
I don't hear shit.
I'm sitting on the floor of my living room, methodically taking apart and reassembling my Beretta 92FS while separating and scarfing down yellow peanut M&Ms. If a stranger was a fly on the wall inside my apartment right now, he or she would probably be staring at me as if I was completely certifiable; basically how Jade is looking at me at this very minute.
What I've never told her or anyone for that matter is that I was taught by a school counselor, who I was forced to meet with in the twelfth grade (by Joseph's request I suspect), that I needed to create rituals for myself in order to self soothe.
In other words, to calm the fuck down.
When my insides are dark and stormy, this is what I do. I either create a new ritual on the fly or fall back on one of my old standards, but whichever method I select, they always have to mean something to me. And only me.
I was barely six years old when my mother woke me up on a weekday at five a.m. and announced that we were going to walk all the way from our house to Walmart (which was at least two miles away) and wait for them to open. She had purchased a vacuum cleaner from there that she wanted to return immediately, because the power cord would not automatically wind back inside its compartment, and she was livid. This is what it could be like living with my mother. She acted on every impulse, every whim, and every emotion. Many times at my expense.
After the time it took to get there, we waited another two hours for Walmart to open that day, and then she told me to sit on the walkway in front of the store with the vacuum cleaner while she made a run to the bank. I didn't understand at my age that there were no banks open at seven a.m., at least not in our neighborhood, so I did as I was told and waited.
It was cold that day and the longer I sat on the concrete, and the longer she was gone, the more anxious I became. I was shivering with my arms around a vacuum cleaner box as store employees pulled inside the parking lot to begin their workday. Most of them gave me inquisitive but brief glances as they continued their labored marches inside the building. Everyone except a cashier named Caroline. A round, robust woman with little to no hair on her head (my guess was due to chemo) but a huge smile, and she stopped to speak to me when no one else bothered to that day.
"Why are you sitting out here all alone son?"
"My mom's vacuum cleaner doesn't work."
"Where is your momma?"
"At the bank."
"The bank? Which one?"
"I don't know."
"Hmmm … what's your name?"
"Roman. What's yours?"
"See my name tag? Can you read it?"
"Yep. It says Caroleene."
"That's Caroline."
"That's what I said. Caroleene."
She flashed me another one of her warm smiles.
"Are you in school yet, Roman?"
"Sometimes." I said not realizing what was very wrong with that answer.
"You want to come inside with the vacuum cleaner and wait for your momma there, Roman? It's chilly out here, and you'll get hemorrhoids if you stay sittin' on that concrete."
I liked the looks of Caroline. Even though she was missing a lot of hair, she still looked kind and fluffy like someone's grandma should look. But I could hear my mother's voice in my head, warning me to avoid all strangers, especially kind ones. My mom didn't trust many people and even when I really wanted to, I didn't either.
"I'll wait for my mommy out here."
"Fair enough, but here's a little something while you wait. Free of charge."
Caroline smiled when she handed me a small unopened bag of M&Ms. It was the first time I had candy since I could remember, and even though I had been warned about accepting food, gifts, or kindness from strangers, I made an exception that morning.
"It's my only guilty pleasure. I have plenty more at home unfortunately. You take these," she offered.
"Thank you." I said as I ripped the bag open almost immediately. Not realizing how hungry I was.
"What good manners, and you’re welcome darlin’. But listen, Roman, make sure to eat each one of those candies one by one and very slowly. It will help pass the time until your mom gets back. Okay?"
ROMAN
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
I should notice Jade in the room, because she's basically standing directly in front of me with her legs shoulder width apart, both hands on her hips, and her miniature skull cocked to the side; but I'm so inside of my own head right now, it's almost as if she's a silhouette blending into the background with the rest of the furniture.
I should also probably hear everything Jade is saying to me, because she's popping her usual wad of god-awful gum in her mouth while talking completely at me, but even her voice is like white noise to me right now.
I don't hear shit.
I'm sitting on the floor of my living room, methodically taking apart and reassembling my Beretta 92FS while separating and scarfing down yellow peanut M&Ms. If a stranger was a fly on the wall inside my apartment right now, he or she would probably be staring at me as if I was completely certifiable; basically how Jade is looking at me at this very minute.
What I've never told her or anyone for that matter is that I was taught by a school counselor, who I was forced to meet with in the twelfth grade (by Joseph's request I suspect), that I needed to create rituals for myself in order to self soothe.
In other words, to calm the fuck down.
When my insides are dark and stormy, this is what I do. I either create a new ritual on the fly or fall back on one of my old standards, but whichever method I select, they always have to mean something to me. And only me.
I was barely six years old when my mother woke me up on a weekday at five a.m. and announced that we were going to walk all the way from our house to Walmart (which was at least two miles away) and wait for them to open. She had purchased a vacuum cleaner from there that she wanted to return immediately, because the power cord would not automatically wind back inside its compartment, and she was livid. This is what it could be like living with my mother. She acted on every impulse, every whim, and every emotion. Many times at my expense.
After the time it took to get there, we waited another two hours for Walmart to open that day, and then she told me to sit on the walkway in front of the store with the vacuum cleaner while she made a run to the bank. I didn't understand at my age that there were no banks open at seven a.m., at least not in our neighborhood, so I did as I was told and waited.
It was cold that day and the longer I sat on the concrete, and the longer she was gone, the more anxious I became. I was shivering with my arms around a vacuum cleaner box as store employees pulled inside the parking lot to begin their workday. Most of them gave me inquisitive but brief glances as they continued their labored marches inside the building. Everyone except a cashier named Caroline. A round, robust woman with little to no hair on her head (my guess was due to chemo) but a huge smile, and she stopped to speak to me when no one else bothered to that day.
"Why are you sitting out here all alone son?"
"My mom's vacuum cleaner doesn't work."
"Where is your momma?"
"At the bank."
"The bank? Which one?"
"I don't know."
"Hmmm … what's your name?"
"Roman. What's yours?"
"See my name tag? Can you read it?"
"Yep. It says Caroleene."
"That's Caroline."
"That's what I said. Caroleene."
She flashed me another one of her warm smiles.
"Are you in school yet, Roman?"
"Sometimes." I said not realizing what was very wrong with that answer.
"You want to come inside with the vacuum cleaner and wait for your momma there, Roman? It's chilly out here, and you'll get hemorrhoids if you stay sittin' on that concrete."
I liked the looks of Caroline. Even though she was missing a lot of hair, she still looked kind and fluffy like someone's grandma should look. But I could hear my mother's voice in my head, warning me to avoid all strangers, especially kind ones. My mom didn't trust many people and even when I really wanted to, I didn't either.
"I'll wait for my mommy out here."
"Fair enough, but here's a little something while you wait. Free of charge."
Caroline smiled when she handed me a small unopened bag of M&Ms. It was the first time I had candy since I could remember, and even though I had been warned about accepting food, gifts, or kindness from strangers, I made an exception that morning.
"It's my only guilty pleasure. I have plenty more at home unfortunately. You take these," she offered.
"Thank you." I said as I ripped the bag open almost immediately. Not realizing how hungry I was.
"What good manners, and you’re welcome darlin’. But listen, Roman, make sure to eat each one of those candies one by one and very slowly. It will help pass the time until your mom gets back. Okay?"