Read Online Snowflakes & Fire Escapes by J. M. Darhower - Free Book Online
Authors: J. M. Darhower
Ads: Link
feel a stitch of regret about it. Cody walked over and plopped down on the couch, setting the bag on the floor by his feet. Without hesitation, he pulled out a beer. “You wouldn’t happen to have a bottle opener around here, would you?”
“Of course,” I said, heading into the kitchen to grab the bottle opener from the drawer. I brought it out to him, watching as he popped the top. “Do you want me to put the rest of them in the fridge?”
“Nah, don’t bother.” He grabbed my arm and yanked me onto the couch beside him. I laughed, relaxing as he put one arm around me before taking a long pull from the bottle, grimacing. “It tastes like shit, whether it’s warm or cold. This way we won’t have to keep getting up.”
“If it’s disgusting, why do you drink it?”
“Why do you drink coffee?”
“Because I like it.”
“Well, I like Guinness,” he said. “I drink it for the feeling, not the flavor.”
I snuggled up against him as he drank. He offered me a sip and I took it, confirming what he said: disgusting . I wanted to ask him more about what happened, who he got into a fight with, what happened to his face, but I didn’t want to push him for answers.
“You know, when we were kids, I used to think you were just fucking with me when you said you didn’t watch television,” he said after a moment as silence enveloped the room. “I mean, who the hell doesn’t watch TV, you know? It still blows my mind.”
My father didn’t own televisions.
He wouldn’t have them in his house.
He said reality was twisted enough … he didn’t need our minds warped with fictionalized accounts of it. I’d seen movies of course, ones I’d snuck into with Cody without my father knowing, but otherwise it was off limits.
Most electronics were, frankly.
No cell phones.
No computers.
I lived in the technological Stone Age.
“It’s not hard to go without when you’ve never had,” I said. “It’s when you get a taste and then you’re denied something that you start to crave it.”
Cody smiled then, the smile I loved, before laughing lightly. “Don’t I know it, baby.”
He drank while we relaxed, talking about everything but nothing of importance. I knocked out my weekend homework while he helped here and there, giving me answers to my math when I stumbled over problems. Cody was smart. If he could only stay out of trouble, school would be a breeze for him.
I was finishing up a worksheet for history when Cody ripped a piece of paper out of one of my notebooks. From the corner of my eye, I saw him fold it into a small triangle before fishing around in my school bag, pulling out a pair of scissors. Smiling, I watched as he started cutting it, randomly making jagged edges and patterns along the sides of it. He unfolded it when he finished, opening it up to reveal an elaborate snowflake.
He made them all the time when we were kids. He’d write along the edges and slip them to me, little presents of love whenever he could tell I was feeling sad. It had been years since he’d made one, though. That was before he began to sneak out at night, back before he learned the art of scaling fire escapes and tapping on windows.
I used to try to return the gesture, try to make him one, but mine were always an utter mess. I accidentally cut them in half most of the time.
Reaching over, Cody grabbed a pen from my bag. I wondered what he was writing, what sort of secret he was spilling along the edges of the paper.
When he was finished, he handed it to me. I took it carefully, regarding him for a moment before glancing down at the snowflake, reading his writing.
I really want to touch your boob .
Laughter burst from me. I shoved him playfully, and he wrapped his arms around me, knocking my homework onto the floor. The sky outside was starting to darken while in the living room his hands started to roam. He groped and touched me through my clothes, getting exactly what he wanted, before his hand ran beneath
“Of course,” I said, heading into the kitchen to grab the bottle opener from the drawer. I brought it out to him, watching as he popped the top. “Do you want me to put the rest of them in the fridge?”
“Nah, don’t bother.” He grabbed my arm and yanked me onto the couch beside him. I laughed, relaxing as he put one arm around me before taking a long pull from the bottle, grimacing. “It tastes like shit, whether it’s warm or cold. This way we won’t have to keep getting up.”
“If it’s disgusting, why do you drink it?”
“Why do you drink coffee?”
“Because I like it.”
“Well, I like Guinness,” he said. “I drink it for the feeling, not the flavor.”
I snuggled up against him as he drank. He offered me a sip and I took it, confirming what he said: disgusting . I wanted to ask him more about what happened, who he got into a fight with, what happened to his face, but I didn’t want to push him for answers.
“You know, when we were kids, I used to think you were just fucking with me when you said you didn’t watch television,” he said after a moment as silence enveloped the room. “I mean, who the hell doesn’t watch TV, you know? It still blows my mind.”
My father didn’t own televisions.
He wouldn’t have them in his house.
He said reality was twisted enough … he didn’t need our minds warped with fictionalized accounts of it. I’d seen movies of course, ones I’d snuck into with Cody without my father knowing, but otherwise it was off limits.
Most electronics were, frankly.
No cell phones.
No computers.
I lived in the technological Stone Age.
“It’s not hard to go without when you’ve never had,” I said. “It’s when you get a taste and then you’re denied something that you start to crave it.”
Cody smiled then, the smile I loved, before laughing lightly. “Don’t I know it, baby.”
He drank while we relaxed, talking about everything but nothing of importance. I knocked out my weekend homework while he helped here and there, giving me answers to my math when I stumbled over problems. Cody was smart. If he could only stay out of trouble, school would be a breeze for him.
I was finishing up a worksheet for history when Cody ripped a piece of paper out of one of my notebooks. From the corner of my eye, I saw him fold it into a small triangle before fishing around in my school bag, pulling out a pair of scissors. Smiling, I watched as he started cutting it, randomly making jagged edges and patterns along the sides of it. He unfolded it when he finished, opening it up to reveal an elaborate snowflake.
He made them all the time when we were kids. He’d write along the edges and slip them to me, little presents of love whenever he could tell I was feeling sad. It had been years since he’d made one, though. That was before he began to sneak out at night, back before he learned the art of scaling fire escapes and tapping on windows.
I used to try to return the gesture, try to make him one, but mine were always an utter mess. I accidentally cut them in half most of the time.
Reaching over, Cody grabbed a pen from my bag. I wondered what he was writing, what sort of secret he was spilling along the edges of the paper.
When he was finished, he handed it to me. I took it carefully, regarding him for a moment before glancing down at the snowflake, reading his writing.
I really want to touch your boob .
Laughter burst from me. I shoved him playfully, and he wrapped his arms around me, knocking my homework onto the floor. The sky outside was starting to darken while in the living room his hands started to roam. He groped and touched me through my clothes, getting exactly what he wanted, before his hand ran beneath
Similar Books
