Hammer Time (pt. 7)

*** This is a continuation of a larger story.  Miranda Jessup Buckley is a woman who ignores red flags, does things her own way and lives life according to her own set of rules. ***

***  So far, Miranda has been jilted, lost her job, and is now responsible for her former lover's thirteen year old son, Waylon.  ***

 

 

 

I've gone out of my way to be nice to that little twerp.  Bought Pop Tarts, frozen pizza,  made spaghetti.  I've asked him about his day.  Offered to help him with his homework, and was grateful he didn't want my help, to be totally honest.  But he has not so much as acknowledged my presence.

 

"Waylon, there's some oatmeal creme pies in the cabinet if you want one."

 

Waylon scowls.  It's his signature look.  

 

I lean back against the cabinet and force a smile. "What's that? Oh, no thank you, Miranda. You've done too much for me as it is."

 

The look never waivers from his ungrateful pudgy face.  

 

"What the hell is your problem, kid?  It's not gonna kill you to speak to me."

 

"I didn't ask you to get those things for me.  I didn't ask for you to look after me."

 

"No.  No, you didn't but you're a kid.  I'm an adult.  It's not my job, my obligation or my duty.  But I'm doing it."

 

"I don't need you."

 

The fiery words that fill my mouth with alarming speed are cut off with my mind screaming "abort mission".  But the anger is going to come out.  Slamming my palm against the counter I cross the distance between us in less than a second.

 

"I don't give two shits if you want to be here or not.  And you can be as mad as you want with your dad.  But do not bite the hand that feeds you."

 

He looks away, maybe in fear, maybe in anger.  I can't tell which and it doesn't matter.  I now have his undivided attention.

 

"Pay attention because I am going to explain the house rules," I say as I lean in closer.  A foul stench that smells like a three day old onion sandwich wafts up. "Oh gawd.  Is that you?  When was the last time you showered?"

 

"I don't know."

 

"Well, if you can't remember then it's been too long.  Rule 1 you are to shower with soap every day.  Rule 2 you will be civil and polite to me, the person who pays the bills and keeps you alive."

 

"My dad said he's coming back in a couple of weeks to get me."

 

"Good.  Then it shouldn't be too hard to follow the rules for such a short time."

 

He grunts as I walk back over to the counter.  I can only imagine he's holding up his middle finger as my back is to him. "And Rule 3 is no more flipping me off.  Now, get your stinkin' butt in the shower."  I smack my hand on the counter again and suppress a laugh as he jumps.

 

I'm sure he's bitching and moaning about me while he's in the bathroom, but as long as he's washing that b.o. off I don't really care.  I know enough to understand that kids need structure.   And Waylon is about to get a crash course in structure.

 

Twenty minutes pass before he comes out.   He pokes his wet head around the door and frowns.  "My dad took the deodorant. "

 

"Did you wash under your arms with soap?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Then you can use mine for tonight. I'll get you your own tomorrow."

 

He recloses the door.  When he finally comes out he holds up his dirty clothes.  "What do I do with these?"

 

"Put them in the laundry basket."

 

"He took that, too."

 

Damn.  He took the laundry basket but left his kid.  What a stand up guy.

 

"Ok.  I guess we need to make a list of things Dougie took and replace them."

 

I go into the kitchen and dig through the junk drawer for a pen and a piece of paper.

 

"Laundry basket.  Deodorant.  Anything else?"

 

Waylon points to the cabinet under the television.  "He took the DVD player and most of the movies."

 

"Nice. Real nice."

 

"I have one question and it's a really important question.  Did he take all the toilet paper?"

 

Waylon frowns, "Why would he take the toilet paper?"

 

"Because Dougie Wilcox is a shitty asshole."

 

Waylon smiles.  A real, honest to goodness smile. 

 

Rome wasn't built in a day so I'm not gonna assume things between Waylon and me are honky dorie.  But at least we're starting to lay down a foundation.