Fuck!
I have forgotten how fucking hot it is here. I looked over at Petra who is sweating profusely beside me as we walk through my old neighborhood. Servers her right for wearing knee high boots in the Floridia man's sun.
"Kevin are you alright?", Nikkei grilled for the forth time since we have arrived to Florida. "You barely talked on the plane.".
Jeremy swung his arm around my shoulders and gave a hearty laugh. "Kevin just pissed he got to see his mom again.".
"Fuck off", I replied but my voice lost its usual malice.
The corners Jeremy's mouth fell for a blink. "Isn't that Mr Diaz's sandwich shop." Jeremy smiled pointing toward the small corner building next to the Macy's.
Wooden planks from shipping pallets mixed with sheet wood nailed together by Mr Diaz's own hands one hot floridian summer . I was barely five when he let me help paint the outer walls that rich red which has faded away to a dull hue. Iron burglar bars stripped of paint covered the windows and a door shaped one pulled to the side because Mr Diaz was always too cheap to get it fix.
Looking around somemore I finally paid attention to other memory landmarks from my past. The dried up fountain near the pet pound where me and Jeremy would run around with our little made in Argentina toys. Ms. Maggie's dog chasing me down the street everytime I woke it up trying to steal her lemons. The fresh sea air when I sneak down to the beach on a Saturday morning everytime I hear the gospel music start playing.
The old music store down at the end of the street. Where I got my first trumpet. My one true love.
My eyes sadly lands on a place which brings me no fond memories. No laughs or smiles just an array of black and burns. The only memories I think of sends spikes through my heart and out my mouth. My hand absently runs down the back of my earlobes. Sends my bleeding heart oozing ounces of black tarred sorrow to raked throat burning it terribly.
Small quaint home snuggled between two other homes stood out in the squeeze. From the barred windows and screen door to the old shakey porch steps waiting for its next victim.
My feet were tied with cinderblocks with ever tug of my leg up. The creaking wood sound growing ever more threatening. I let out a short breath before giving a quick knock.
Shuffling could be heard inside along with some chatter before door opened up with a creek.
"Why the hell you banging on my door like it fucking drum." My mom drawled and my brain tossed itself down the stairs.
She wasn't ugly by any means. How do you think I got my good looks? Permed black hair done up with a hair clamp on the top of her head. Almond skin marked with aged wrinkles by her mouth and eyes. Downturened chestnut eyes narrowed and full lips pulled in a tight scowl.
"Hey Ma." I replied dryly my hand wandering to my hip.
She scans me up and down before casting her eyes back at the fruit bowl shaped clock I knew that hung near the doorway.
"Your five minutes late.", she boomed. A wily smile coming to her lips.
This bitch can't be real. I dragged my ass to your house and this how you want it to be.
"Ma you got to be fu-"
"Finish it. I dare your black ass to finish that sentence ." She promised.
My mouth shuts automatically like a safe.
Jeremy decides it's a good time to jump in before the slipper starts coming off.
"Good evening Ms. Falcon." He smiled and I could hear Nikkei giggle softly in the background.
A soft gasp echos from her mouth. She instantly fixed her yellow sunflower dress and a smile comes to her lips.
"Why hello Jeremiah I didn't notice you there." She swooned.
"Its Jeremy ma'am " Jeremy corrected.
"Whatever, please come in, come in." She rushed grabbing Jeremy by the hand dragging him through the door.
Nikkei was in the back bursting at the seams with laughter while Petra looked at him with a questioning look pulling him inside.
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
"So Jeremiah is this beautiful girl your girlfriend." My mom questioned motioning between Jeremy and Petra casually giving the side eye me and Nikkei.
Jeremy gave a nervous chuckle. "No Ms. Falcon, Petra is not my girlfriend, Nikkei is my boyfriend.".
Lord in heaven I wish I had a polaroid camera with me so I could take this treasure. The jaw dropped face of my mother. How I would wave it in her face.
"Oh, I never knew you chose that lifestyle. It's so unexpected of a person of your nature." She tried.
"You mean Indian." He finished.
"Why yes. Isn't it banned?".
Jeremy stiffened slightly but chuckled. "Ms. Falcon is it a bother that I have a boyfriend.".
"No! No! No... just questioning." She frizzled getting up from her floral covered armchair.
It was my turn to die from laughter in the background. The way I see the annoyed vein by her temple twitched as she moved across the room. Her hard slippers clapping against the tiles.
"The room upstairs are prepared, pick what you like except the one near the bathroom that for Everest when she comes tomorrow." She manages before escaping to the kitchen.
■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■
"Your mother seems colorful." Petra began grabbing a towel from her suitcase.
"If colorful means a bitch I'm all for it." I replied looking back through the old books underneath the bedside table. I knew she stored some of her weed in them.
"How do you know it's not just rotten attitude that causes her to be that way." .
"It always my fault in this world isn't it, I always deserve it." My voice falling clamping the third book closed.
"Maybe you do.", she remarked leaving to the bathroom.
What does she know anyway. She knows nothing . Not a damn thing about me or my mother. If she knew she wouldn't be so brave to say 'its MY fucking fault!".
I slamed the book I was looking through onto the floor. Behold the glorious dime bag that spilled from it's pages. As I snatched the bag from the floor my eye catches something intresting.
My eyes scanned page over and over trying to see if my eyes are joking with me.
1) Handle your emotions maturely even in face of emotional turmoil.
...
8) Be aware of situations around you
...
12) Have integrity not vanity
I closed the book and the vinyl pink letters shine slightly in the sun writhing the words-
How to find the Perfect man.
Maybe it was coincidence but no one makes coincidences like this. I look back at the closed bathroom door. The beat of the water hitting the floor feuled my growing confusion.
I could ask. I could but I won't. It's not a big deal. If plagiarism was always called out then there would be less movies in the world.
Best let it go - for now.