It doesn’t get much better than a bacon sandwich on a Saturday morning.
“Did Gabe pick up Summer?” Dad asked Mom, and I frowned.
Hehadleft to get her. I’d been watching a film in my room and must’ve dozed off.
Mom motioned her head to me.
“Did you see your sister last night? Dad’s asking.” She rolled her eyes good-naturedly as I shrugged. “I’ll go check.”
I finished my sandwich and started making another. I gazed outside at the rain, watching as it danced on the sidewalk. Saturday wasn’t perfect. After all, it needs to hone in on those weather skills. Today should be all beaming sunshine, perfect for barbecues and beers. I sighed as Mom walked back in, a strange expression on her face.
“She here?” I mumbled through a mouthful of bacon.
She nodded, not quite meeting my eyes. Dad walked in, putting his plate on the side as he sipped his coffee. He watched my Mom as she hurried about the kitchen, stacking the dishwasher and wiping down the sides.
“Baby? She ok?” he asked as she smiled brightly.
Too brightly.
“Yes! She’s fine,” she chirped.
Dad nodded, apparently unaware Mom was acting odd. Summer must be asleep, which I fully intended to do now I had a belly full of bacon and bread. Mom slapped more bacon on the grill as Dad held his hand up.
“No more for me, babe.”
“It’s for everyone else, silly,” she smirked, buttering the bread.
“Yeah, like anyone else will be up before eleven. Speaking of which, did you shit the bed?” Dad turned to me as I made a face.
“Yeah, Dad, that’s it.”
He chuckled as he stretched. “Well, I’m going to bed. Considering I knocked out on the couch all night, I need some proper sleep. You coming, wife?” He wiggled his eyebrows in Mom’s direction, and she sent him a look.
“Go to bed, you drunk.”
“But lazy morning sex issounderrated,” he protested.
I groaned. “For fuck’s sake, Dad.”
He ignored me, grinning as he walked away. “You want a repeat of last night Gretchen; you know where I am.”
Too much. Too fucking much.
“I’m going back to bed. I can’t deal with you two this morning,” I declared, finishing my sandwich.
Mom put her hand on my arm, her eyes darting to the door as though making sure Dad was out of earshot.
“Leave Summer be. She’s sleeping. Don’t go banging around up there.”
I shrugged disinterestedly. I had no intention of banging anything unless a particular English student teacher was up there. In fact, I had shit to do.
“Quiet as a church mouse, Ma. Thanks for feeding me.”
“You’re welcome.”
She busied herself, and I left the room, jogging up the stairs as quietly as I could.
Not that I gave a shit, but I loved my Mom to death. Anything she said, I did. Most of the time, anyway.
