It takes two more hours - almost three hours - to get home. Even though the state I live in is narrow-tier than most American states, it doesn't keep my house that close to the big city. The big city —the place where the summer festival was last— was on the east end of my house in the west. It's smaller and narrower than the rest, where you can easily identify each other's citizens.
"Go home and take a shower, you smell so bad," Lucas said after I got off his blue Honda Civic, which he was always so proud of.
"Are you still sulking?"
"I just can't stand the smell of your body," he retorted as he clenched his nose lobe with his index finger and thumb. Indicates the besomeness.
"Fuck off. This stench is coming from your own body. You don't bathe much, just look at your grimy body," I'll fight back.
"Hey, this is racist," Lucas began his argument over a 'racism' based on the low color of his skin. "I will report your words to the UN!"
"Ya.. Ya.. Ya... Whatever you say."
There's no time for me to respond to useless Lucas' ramblings. The young man may often exaggerate things, taking a joke seriously or acting as if he were a victim of violence. Maybe that's what makes me feel snub every time I'm around him. I feel like babysitting instead of hanging out with a big scary young man.
Back there, Lucas was still sounding annoyed as he started the car. His babbling was now muffled by the roar of the engine, then faded away as a blue Honda Civic left my yard.
"I'm home ~"
Silence.
Same as always, no welcome whenever I come. It's a two-story house with white paint on the front and a light blue inside, not too big to go in alone. I'm used to living alone right now, taking care of myself and managing this house without anyone's help. Don't worry, it sounds pretty bad, but I have enough to live on. Just so you know, my mom and dad are still together. But they were both quite busy working together, 80 hours a week. Took us by surprise. The chips are only on occasion, in the early morning or sometimes late at night.
My family is not rich enough to do chores. The livelihood in this area is limited, which means they have to work harder to get an average wage. Thus, the decision to work across the country on roughly 6 hours (or more if traffic) became the only option.
Sometimes I feel useless. They worked very hard so that I could further my education. Not that I don't want to help the family economy, but my parents insist that I have no intention of taking part time jobs. He said I should focus on studying for the graduation exam instead of going straight to work.
Walked down the hall to get into the back room, the kitchen. Before I go to the bathroom, I feel like I need to cool my throat first. A bottle of cold mineral water I found neatly done behind the bottom refrigerator door. I open it without a second thought and I'll give you half.
Just about to close the freezer door, the corner of my eye caught a piece of paper lying next to a small tray of chocolate muffins. Only a quarter of the original.
'To Bryan, happy birthday.'
Those cake have been filling the freezer for the past two weeks. From the taste it's soft and soft until it starts to harden. I don't know who put that cake in, Mom or Dad or maybe both. But from the graffiti on the small scrapbook in bright yellow - now it had started to fade because of the cold inside - I knew one thing.
My Mom's writing.
Waking up on a bright Sunday morning, wading toward the kitchen to freshen the throat and then finding out one thing was different. A chocolate sponge cake with sprinkles of meses and cheese on it. The scrapbook next to it looked new. Only then did the new me feel that I was entering the teen phase did I now realize that I was in my teens, eighteen years old.
That was my first meeting with a chocolate Cake.
It was the Cake that kept me company every day. Each time I opened the refrigerator I marked a sponge cake with one mouthful, which I would find at the next meeting. Signifying no one else had eaten the dumpling but me.
Not my Dad, not my Mom.
In fact, I was hoping if they had eaten one piece of this sponge cake, maybe I wouldn't have felt completely alone. I've got a visual on the leftover sponge cake.
As usual, I cut the chocolate cake and chew them quickly before rushing down my throat with cold mineral water again.
There was nothing special in the freezer, so I decided to go to the bathroom after closing the cabinet door so tight.
The sound of footsteps reverberated through the house as I walked down the aisle. These silences will only get worse by nightfall. Not many vehicles pass by my house day or night. Instead of being afraid, I get bored. I repeat every day of my life. Shower, eat, play games, watch movies, or just walk around the house. When bored to the bone, I chose to stay at Lucas's or call him to come here.
Just like last time, shops around here aren't much open at night either. A bar? The pub? Cafe? Of course there is, but it's about two hours from my house. And I'm one of those lazy teenagers who doesn't like to travel very far to sit around and drink coffee.
"Fresh ~~"
Most people prefer a warm bath to take off the drain, as opposed to me who always use cold water when tired.
One towel covers the belly button and the other towel I use to dry my hair. I walked a little fast to get into the room on the second floor. The only room in there, my room.
Being an only child isn't really so bad, if you ask me, it's just the loneliness that comes along sometimes. The rest is no different than most.
I sit down on the game chair with padded pads, after I get dressed of course. Because hair that's still wet makes me unable to lay down on the bed. Doing other things while waiting for my hair to dry was the right choice.
My smile grew as I gazed at the creases of the white paper lying near the desk lamp. Reach for my carefully opened. It was only a few hours ago, but it already felt very homesick.