Flat 51

“Ah!” she screamed as she landed on her stomach. I rushed to help her up, laughing with her as she rubbed her ankle. “Owwwwww,” she whined when she put weight on it. “That fucking hurts!”

“Did you dislocate it?” I asked with concern. I’d seen some pretty bad injuries up close, and she very well could have dislocated it at the speed she hit that table.

“No, I think I sprained it tho-OWWWAAAAAAAHHHH!” Not knowing what else to do, I picked her up and carried her to the couch. “Harry! Put me down! You’re gonna drop me! Ah!” I rolled my eyes and set her gently on the cushions, pulling a blanket over her. She looked into my eyes and pouted her lip dramatically. “It hurts, Harry,” she complained in a baby voice. I ignored her and rushed to the front door, paid for the food, and leaned my back against the wall. She was damn near killing me. “Harryyyyyy! I’m hungry!”

“I’m coming, crybaby,” I muttered, setting the box and bag of soda on the coffee table.

“Can you get me the ketchup out of the fridge?” she asked, pointing.

“Ketchup? We’re having tacos, Emily.”

“I know. I just like ketchup on my tacos.”

“Why?”

“Because!” she snapped. Woooaaahhh... Why was she suddenly so defensive? I threw my hands up and backed off, not really caring to have another fight with her. I’d spent one night here and we’d already had two screaming matches. I didn’t want to get kicked out again. “I-I’m sorry,” she whispered as I returned, handing her the ketchup. “I didn’t mean to be nasty. I like ketchup on my tacos because… Mom always put it on. It was something her mom did, and she always did it for me, and I always do it now.” She was apologizing? Well, ok.

“Um, oh… I didn’t mean to push you or anything, I was just wondering.”

“I know, it’s just… I don’t have many good memories with Mom. That’s all.”

“Do… do you wanna talk about it?” Why was I offering to listen? I generally hated having heart to hearts with people. The only people I did that with were my three best friends, and they were a long way away.

“I don’t think you want to hear it… It’s nothing positive.”

“Go ahead, I don’t mind,” I replied, taking her hand. It seemed we were both surprised at the gesture, as we both stared at our hands for a moment before she spoke.

“Well, Mom… she was, um… she was a prostitute, and some guys would pay a ton extra to not use protection, and she needed the money. Up until twenty years ago, she was fine, but then she found out she was pregnant with me. I’ve never met my dad, and he doesn’t want to meet me. One day Mom contacted him, but he wouldn’t speak with her. She tried to tell him she’d had me, but he wouldn’t listen. So she wrote him a long letter and left it in his mailbox. Well, he saved the letter, and when I was twelve his sixteen-year-old son discovered it, and realized he had a half-sister floating around in some bar somewhere doing who-knows-what. He went looking and it took him two more years to find me. Danny took me away from that place and gave me a home. He took care of me at whatever Marine base he was in at the time, and I spent five years with him until I moved to London. I wanted to escape all of that.” She stopped and let go of my hand, only to grab it with both of hers a moment later. She pulled my fingers apart like a child, comparing it to her much, much smaller one. “You have massive hands.”

“So I’ve been told,” I replied quietly. “Hey, let’s eat.” I tried to change the subject. I didn’t know what to do with the flood of information. Did she want a hug? Because that was a bad idea. Hug means physical contact, and physical contact means I might lose it. “What does ketchup do to tacos that makes it so good?” I asked. I really wanted to know. I loved tacos.

“I don’t know, it’s weird. Like, it feels like it shouldn’t be there, but it makes the whole thing infinity times better.” Because that makes perfect sense.

“Oh… Ok.”

“Harry, my ankle is swelling pretty bad,” she said seriously, pointing to her foot. It was propped up on the coffee table, and it was indeed swollen. “Should we get it checked out?”

“Nah, you just sprained it, but by the looks of it you’ll need to stay off of it for a few days.”

“Harry, I can’t afford that! I have two very physically involving jobs!”

“Well, sucks for you. That’s how it is.”

“Arghhhh… There goes my income.”

“I’ll call them. You’ll be fine. You can take sick leave.”

“Fine… but you better not leave me here all alone the whole time.” I laughed. Little did she know, I didn’t want to leave her side.

“Oh, I’ll be here.”

Notes

Ok, this is all the stuff I have written so far. My mind, I swear it wants to be lost. I keep thinking up the best scenes, then how to build up to them, but now I actually have to build up to them when I just want to write them. Example, the taco scene. I put ketchup on my tacos, because my mom does. But, my mom is chill, like, she wasn't a prostitute or anything... And I have a great relationship with my dad. And my parents are married. This is just getting weird. I should just stop.

Em XO