was odd. Gavin had the same
sleeping-in gene I did so why would– Yes! I remembered now – today was
Gavin’s first day of work! I squeed to myself and executed some super cool
dance moves. I may soon be able to afford the $7 bottle of wine. Not that I
could tell the difference, but whatever. This morning was already looking brighter.
***
With
Rocco, now fully dressed, settled in at my awesome turquoise shabby chic kitchen
table munching on his bowl of Cocoa Krispies – sans milk, of course – there was still no sign of Gavin. It had been twenty minutes. Further inspection back
in the hall revealed a closed door and a muffled snore.
“Knock,
knock.” I rapped as I pushed open the door. “I figured I should rattle your
cage since eighties rock doesn’t seem to be doing the trick – Oh God! Put it
away! ” I slapped my hand over my eyes so hard I could practically feel the
shiner forming, the vision of Gavin’s pale white ass cheeks burning a hole
through the back of my head. The only thing keeping the vomit down was the fact
that he had been lying on his stomach instead of his back.
“Guhfmm…what?”
came the drowsy male snuffle from the bed, accompanied by a rustling of sheets.
Still
shielding my eyes, I whispered-yelled, “Get your hairy ass covered now!” I did
not want to alert Rocco to any possible distraction involving his favorite person
and unfortunate role model.
“Hey,
it’s not hairy,” Gavin protested with a yawn. “You’re just jealous cuz mine’s
perfect and yours is, well, you know.”
I
retreated from the room, tossing over my shoulder, “You can’t be late on your
first day, Gav. And for God’s sake, put on some pants – there’s a minor in this
house and there is no way to un-see that whole mess you’ve got goin’ on, Billy
Idol.” I made a vague circular motion with my finger and hurried away to finish
getting myself ready for the day.
I
returned to the kitchen with five minutes to spare. Gavin, thankfully now
clothed in faded jeans and an old concert t-shirt, was leaning against the
counter with his own bowl of Cocoa Krispies raised to chin level. He spooned a
bite into his mouth and focused on his nephew.
“But
why doesn’t she like ponies?” Rocco’s puzzled expression passed between his
uncle and me, his cute little lisp making “ponies” come out as “poneeth”. His soulful
brown eyes crinkled in confusion while his short mop of thick dark hair tilted
to the side along with his head. “Ponies are awesome.”
Gavin
pointed his now empty spoon at Rocco in explanation. “I don’t think it’s that
she doesn’t like ponies, Rock – it’s just that it’s been too long since
she’s ridden a pony,” he said, chuckling to himself at his oh-so-lame
joke and giving me a sidelong glance in repressed merriment.
“Ha
ha,” I responded and then gestured for Rocco to give me his empty bowl and cup
from the table. “Your Uncle Gavin needs to quit with the livestock stories and
get going to his new job,” I told Rocco. “And we need to get a move on, dude,
or we’re gonna be late for school. Go grab your shoes.” I tossed the dirty
dishes in the sink for later.
Rocco
dashed to the side door to retrieve his sneakers and I turned to face my
brother as I grabbed my purse from the back of one of our mismatched kitchen
chairs. “Seriously, Gavin, good luck today,” I told him and stretched onto my
tiptoes to give him an unexpected peck on his scruffy cheek. “Knock ‘em dead!”
“Yeah,
yeah,” he replied self-consciously and ran a hand through his unruly mass of
dark brown hair – hair that I noted had clearly not been washed on this day. Baby
steps , I told myself.
We
both knew that this job was a big deal – a turning point of sorts, I hoped –
but not wanting to make him feel more uncomfortable than necessary, I threw a small
wave over my shoulder, picked up my lunch bag along with Rocco’s backpack and
escorted my kid out to the
John Holmes, Ryan Szimanski