By Mark The Goodpen
The following story is a work of fiction. If you find material like this offensive, then that's your problem I didn't make you read this. If you're under age, get out!! You're still there aren't you? Oh well I tried.
Seriously though, to read this story you need to be able to separate fantasy from reality and know when to keep it zipped. There is a large difference between words on a page and real actions. Remember that. The characters in this story are fictional and not in anyway meant to depict any real person living or dead.
This is my story and my own words, if you want to post, or make a profit on a story create your own! Thank you.
Thank you to everyone who has e-mailed their feedback on this story. You're e-mails let me know I should keep the Sierra Inn in business.
Feedback is always welcome, whether it be positive comments, constructive criticism or even a suggestion. Simply e-mail me at email@example.com. Please put Sierra Inn in the subject of your e-mail. I will try my hardest to reply to all e-mails.
Brian's question comes very close to bursting the bubble I rather enjoyed being in for the past few minutes. The simple question makes me realize that best case scenario all we did is put a band aid on our problem. I've only gotten an emergency license and Brian is placed with me only on an emergency basis. When it comes down to it, all I have accomplished really, is covering my own backside, legally speaking. There are certainly no guarantees as to how long CPS will allow Brian to stay with me. Still I don't want to worry Brian.
"Hopefully for a very long time," I say answering his question with the best smile I can muster.
Brian nods and smiles a little bit, and I quickly put the car in reverse and start backing out of my parking spot as though the car actually moving will prevent Brian from asking any more difficult questions. As I drive towards the freeway part of my brain is telling me to go back to the Sierra Inn, you have work to do while the other part is saying that Brian needs clothes. Of coarse the money I will be receiving from CPS, for being a foster parent hasn't come yet, and since my rent will be increasing by a couple of hundred dollars a month in possibly a matter of hours I still can't afford to take Brian to the mall.
I decide to take Brian by my parent's house to pick up some hand me downs, then head back to the Sierra Inn so I can actually get some work done. I tell Brian my plan and he just nods, not seeming too excited about it but there really isn't anything I can do. The car ride is silent again, but at least it is comfortable. I decide against calling my parents, figuring maybe surprising them will give them less time to think of ways to tell me how badly I am handling this situation.
I always get a weird feeling when I drive through my old neighborhood, it's like I'm taking a giant step backwards to a time, I really would prefer not to revisit. Not that my childhood was bad or anything, I just like being an adult better. As I pull up in front of my parent's house I take a deep breath.
"Are you scared of your parents?" Brian asks me as we walk up to the front door.
"No, not at all," I say. "I'm terrified," I add under my breath so Brian can't hear.
I ring the doorbell and nervously wait for an answer, my Dad's truck in the driveway let's me know that they are home. I try to comfort myself with the thought that this can't possibly go much worse than yesterday did, but then I think I've been known to be wrong about that type of thing.
"Who is it?" I hear my Dad's voice boom from the other side of the door.
"It's me," I say.
I hear the old lock turning with a creek and then the door wine its way open. My Dad stands on the inside of the doorway and looks at me, then at Brian who is standing right next to me. It seems like we stand there for an eternity in an endless stare down.
"Come on in," my Dad says with a sigh, opening the door wider to let us in the house.
"Thanks," I say, letting Brian go in first.
"Hello guys," my Mom says happily. "What a nice surprise! What brings you here?"
"Well Brian is going to be staying with me for a while," I say. "And he needs some more clothes. I was hoping to get some of my old clothes out of the garage."
"Of course," my Mom says, a smile spreading across her face.
"Kevin," my Dad says, just as my Mom starts leading Brian and I to the garage. "Can I talk to you for a second?"
"Ah sure," I say, nervously.
"Come on Brian, we'll get you some clothes," my Mom says before continuing to lead him into the garage.
My Dad leads me into the kitchen and we each take a seat at the kitchen table. My stomach ties itself into a knot in anticipation of what it is my Dad might be about to say. Again I try to comfort myself with the thought that it can't be much worse than yesterday.
"Son, about yesterday," my Dad starts. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said what I said. It's just that sometimes you worry me, you seem to act before you think. And to be honest I still don't understand why you would want to help that kid so much."
"His name is Brian," I say. "And, Dad I didn't really have much time to think. But if it helps we just came from CPS, I got an emergency license, well sort of and Brian was placed with me."
"What do you mean sort of?" my Dad asks.
"I have to get references by tomorrow," I say. "And the social worker is going to come inspect my apartment once I move into it."
"What do you mean once you move into it?" my Dad asks.
"I'm moving into a bigger apartment, in a newer complex," I say. "I've already put in the application."
"Kevin," my Dad says shaking his head. "You were barely able to afford your old apartment. Why would you get a bigger one?"
"I'm doing OK with money, Dad," I say, I'm really not, but he doesn't need to know that. "I'll make this work."
"Kevin, I still don't understand," my Dad says, shaking his head. "What is your motive here?"
"Helping Brian," I say quickly. "I don't have any other motives, no matter what you think."
I can tell that my Dad wants to say more, but suddenly my Mom interrupts us.
"Kevin, Brian wants you," my Mom says, as she comes into the kitchen. "I'm sorry but that boy just doesn't like me much."
"I'm sure that's not it, he's just shy," I say. "Excuse me Dad," I add as I get up from the table and start making my way to the garage.
When I get into the garage I see Brian kneeling over a large box, there are a couple of t-shirts laying on the ground next to him, as he is digging through the box but stops when he hears my footsteps behind him. He turns around and looks up at me.
"They all smell," he says, as I kneel next to him.
"Eh," I say, taking a sniff over the box and getting a whiff of a very musty smell. "It's nothing a good laundry can't get out."
"Who's this?" Brian asks holding up one of my many Nirvana t-shirts.
"You've never heard of Nirvana?" I ask, in shock.
"Nirvan who?" Brian asks, sounding totally confused.
"The band Nirvana," I say. "You know Nevermind, Smells Like Teen Spirit?"
"What?" Brian asks.
"Oh boy, do I have a lot to teach you," I say, shaking my head. "Trust me, you wear that t-shirt and you'll be the coolest kid in school."
Of coarse, when I wore a Nirvana t-shirt to school I still wasn't the coolest kid in school, but Brian doesn't need to know that.
"No I won't be," Brian says, putting the t-shirt back in the box.
"Hey don't judge them, till you've heard them," I say, quickly.
"No," Brian says shaking his head. "I've never been the coolest kid in school, no matter what I wear."
"Well, if it helps," I say. "You're the coolest kid I know."
"Thanks," he says with a little laugh.
"Well it's true," I say.
We spend the next half hour going through the box, and totally guessing as to what may or may not fit Brian but my parents have somewhere to be so he doesn't have time to try anything on. My Mom keeps giving Brian food, and he keeps accepting. He starts with one sandwich that quickly turns into two and then a bowl of ice cream is added. After we are done and Brian has sufficiently stuffed his face we take a small pile of t-shirts and couple pairs of pants out to my car for him to try on when we get back to my apartment. We don't leave without my Mom agreeing to be a reference for me with CPS. When we get into the car, I immediately pull one of Nirvana CD's out from my CD holder I have attached to my sun visor and put in the CD player.
"This is, Nirvana," I say as "Come as You Are" starts playing through the speakers.
"They don't sound so cool," Brian says.
"Well give them a chance," I say, defensively.
I look at the time on the clock of my dashboard, and realize if I speed I might be able to make it back to the Sierra Inn in time to catch Laura before the shift change. Fortunately I am a professional when it comes to speeding, and having lived in Phoenix all my life I know exactly where the speed traps are so I can avoid a ticket. We get back to the Sierra Inn, only minutes before time for the shift change. When we walk into the lobby Laura is busy helping guests check in. When she sees us walking towards the desk, she gives me a questioning look because she can't ask me verbally. I give her a thumbs up and a warm smile spreads across her face.
I make my way back to my office, with Brian following close behind me. I sign onto my computer and get lost in the world of my business, while Brian watches television in the break room. Hearing Laura's voice snaps my attention from my work, but the fact she is talking to Brian gives me permission to keep on working.
"I can't believe you pulled it off," Laura says, as she comes into my office a huge grin on her face.
"Was there any doubt?" I ask, looking up from my computer screen, I think for the first time ever my smile comes close to matching hers.
"You seemed to have some," Laura says.
"I do have a favor to ask you," I say. "To be official or whatever I need references to vouch for my character or whatever..."
"I certainly will," Laura says before I can even finish my sentence.
"Thank you," I say.
Laura goes back out to the front desk and I sink back into my back log of work. I'm not sure how much time has passed but next thing I know Juan is standing in my doorway.
"You did what?" he asks, a stunned look on his face.
"Laura told you?" I ask, unable to contain my smile.
"I can't believe you!" he says, the stunned look still on his face.
"Shh!" I say worried, Brian might here something he shouldn't.
"The kid's in the bathroom," Juan says. "What made you want to become a parent?"
"Brian did," I say simply. "And besides I'm not really a parent, I'm just his temporary legal guardian."
"Shit man, you're still braver than I am," Juan says, shaking his head.
"Yeah, whatever," I say shaking my head. "So what's new with you?"
"Dude, I met this chick last week I've been dying to tell you about," Juan says. "She was the hottest thing, I've seen in forever. Dude and that cun..."
"Brian!" I say quickly interrupting Juan as I see Brian pass by the door way just as Juan is telling his story.
"What?" Brian asks, sounding a little startled.
"You almost ready to go?" I ask, trying to cover the fact that I had just called his name to get Juan to shut up.
"Definitely," Brian says.
"I'll tell you more tomorrow," Juan says.
"Looking forward to it," I lie.
Juan has no clue I'm gay so he thinks I actually enjoy hearing about the women he bags. In reality I have no interest, and to this day I am amazed that Juan isn't just a walking STD. Brian gathers his skateboard and helmet to take back to my apartment while I shut down my computer and we head for the parking lot. On the way out Juan agrees to be a reference for me, and I am officially set as far as references go. On the way home I pull into the drive through of a Burger King. Even though Brian had a fairly large lunch not that long ago, he gets a burger and fries and I start wondering if I have just taken in a kid or one bottomless pit.
When we get back to my apartment, Brian dumps his clothes on the bed and we eat dinner sitting on the couch watching television.
"When do I have to start school?" Brian asks, in between bites of his burger.
"Well, we'll go tomorrow to get you enrolled," I say. "So you probably can start on Friday or something like that."
"Oh," he says, sounding disappointed.
"What is it about school that you don't like?" I ask him, as I shut off the television so we can talk more freely.
"A lot of stuff," Brian says with a sigh.
"Like what?" I ask, trying to dig deeper.
"Well, it's boring," Brian says, before taking the last bite of his burger.
"So is sitting at the motel all day," I say.
"Yeah but school is a different kind of boring," Brian says. "And..." I can tell he wants to say more but stops himself.
"And what?" I ask, not letting him off the hook so easily.
"It's just boring that's all," Brian says.
"Brian, I know there's something else," I say. "You can't fool me that easily. What is it?"
"Kids always make fun of me," Brian says.
I am totally surprised by Brian's statement, he does not seem like the type of kid that would have a problem with being picked on. But maybe I am seeing things through rainbow colored glasses, so to speak. I know how harsh kids can be, I've been there, but I don't know what it is they could possibly be picking on Brian about.
"What do they make fun of you for?" I ask.
"Stuff," Brian says, obviously not wanting to share.
I find it odd that he is having a harder time telling me why kids at school make fun of him than he did telling me how he ended up in front of my motel.
"Brian, whatever you tell me it'll never leave this room," I say. "I promise."
"They think..." he starts but stops himself for a second, slightly biting his lower lip. "They think I'm gay."
"Brian kids your age think everybody's gay," I say remembering when I was his age. "If you do anything slightly different they think your gay. It's just another name they call kids really."
"Maybe when you were in school," Brian says. "But not now. They think I'm gay."
"Well are you?" I ask.
"I don't know," Brian says, shrugging his shoulders.
I wouldn't really expect Brian to know for sure about his sexuality. I knew when I was ten but I was what you would call an early bloomer, and I'm sure Brian's experiences on the streets have confused him at least a little.
"Brian you can't worry about what other kids say," I tell him. "You just have to do your own thing. And so what if you are gay? There are worse things in the world to be."
"I don't know," Brian says, shrugging his shoulders.
"Brian, if anybody at your new school is picking on you, tell me," I say. "I'll send Juan to kick their ass. He'd do it too."
Brian just laughs, which was the point of me saying what I did. I can't stand seeing him upset, even in the slightest it just hurts too much.
"Hey, why don't you try on some of your new old clothes," I say. "We got to make sure they fit."
"OK," Brian says, before getting up and heading off into the bedroom.
I turn back on the television, but my mind can't help but wander. I start thinking about Brian and his problem with school. Maybe I was joking when I told him to tell me if anybody is picking on him so I could stick Juan on them. But I hope Brian knows that if something bad is happening to him anywhere he can tell me. I start to kick myself for turning that statement into a joke, like the kid needs anymore to be confused about. I really hope Brian will feel comfortable enough with me to talk to me about any confusion he might be having. I guess it's more than I should expect, but I want him to think of me as his father, or at least his substitute father. I realize that's going to be an uphill battle, apparently Brian just about idolized his real father, and I don't want to take that away from him or make him think I am trying to be a replacement.
I am returned to reality, when Brian comes out of the bedroom wearing a t-shirt and jeans we had picked out of the box today. The t-shirt is just a plain blue short sleeve shirt, nothing fancy at all but Brian had insisted in including it in the set of clothes we took. He has on a pair of blue jeans, that are slightly faded and hug his legs probably more than he would like them to. I guess I was a little skinnier at that age than he is.
"Do these look OK?" he asks me.
"Yeah," I say, nodding my head as I look him over a second time. "Are the pants too tight?"
"No," Brian says shaking his head. "They're OK."
As he says this he lifts up his t-shirt, slightly revealing the lower part of his stomach, and pulls the waist of the jeans to show me that he does have some breathing room. The sight of his white stomach, takes me by surprise, to this point the most skin I've seen on Brian is his face and neck.
"Then I guess they're keepers," I say.
"Cool," Brian says, before going back into the bedroom.
He models the rest of the clothes for me, and they are all about the same. All of the pants look a little tight in the legs, but are loose enough to be unrevealing of anything Brian may not want to have revealed. When he is done with his fashion show he comes out in the pajamas we had picked out from the box. Red flannel pajamas with a checkerboard pattern with black lines. I never knew flannel could look cute.
"Leave a set out tonight and I'll wash them so you can wear them tomorrow," I tell him as he takes a seat on the couch next to me.
"OK," he says. "Kevin," he says slowly. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure thing kiddo," I say, again turning off the television. "What is it?"
"Do you think I'm gay?" he asks.
I don't know for sure but I think my jaw may hit the ground of the apartment below mine. I wanted Brian to feel comfortable with me, and I am glad he feels comfortable enough to ask me a question like this one. Or at least part of me is glad about it. The rest of me is wishing he hadn't asked the question, because there are so many reasons I do not want to be having this type of conversation with an eleven year old.
"Brian, that's something only you can know," I say. "There is no way I can tell you that."
"What I did on the streets," Brian says. "When those men would pay for me to do stuff does that make me gay?"
"Absolutely not," I say quickly. "Brian, what you did on the streets is called survival. And you didn't choose to do that, you were kind of forced into it."
"I guess," Brian says.
The entire time Brian has hands clenched together and resting in his lap his head is pointed down as though he is embarrassed or ashamed. We sit in an awkward silence for a long time. I begin to think about what happened to Brian on the streets. I realize he is probably more experienced with men then I am, and the only reason he'd be asking me about this is if he had felt something. Then again they say that rape victims often get aroused during the rape, that it is just a physical reaction. So maybe he's had more actual sexual experience than I have but that doesn't mean that he would be any surer of his sexuality one or the other. The fact is, the poor kid is probably just confused.
"Can we watch T.V?" Brian asks, and just like that our talk is over.
"Sure," I say handing him the remote.
We sit and watch television silently for a while but soon the long day catches up with both of us. Brian goes into the bedroom, and takes out the blue t-shirt and blue jeans for me to wash. After leaving the clothes on top of the washing machine he comes back into the living room where I still am sitting on the couch.
"Goodnight, Kevin," Brian says as he comes over to me and wraps his arms around my neck, putting laying his head on my shoulder. I quickly put my arms around him and gently rub the middle of his back.
"Goodnight, buddy," I tell him. "Sweet dreams."
"You too," he says releasing me from the hug, and I release him and he goes into the bedroom.
I think to myself that I could hold that kid like that all day, if he would let me, which will probably never happen but I can still dream. I decide to start getting ready for bed myself but on my way to the bathroom I see Brian's clothes sitting on the washing machine I put them in the washing machine then continue to make my way into the bathroom, and decide to take a long soak in the tub. My mind is spinning again, this time with everything that has happened today. As I sink into the warm water of the tub, I feel some of my stress melt away. Brian is still here and legally now. Maybe it was only a temporary fix but at least I feel like I did the right thing. It's weird, the feeling I get when I think about Brian, it's almost as strong as the feeling I get when I actually see him. I can feel my skin kind of tingle, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end but in a good way. I don't know what those things mean, if anything. I've tried writing it off as some sort of stress based reaction, but I know better than that. Usually when I get stressed I just get the trots. No, those things happen when I see or think about Brian for a different reason. Admitting that I feel that much for Brian, I know would bring up something that I'm not sure if I'm ready to bring up.
I lay in the tub, contemplating what my life could be like in the near future quickly though the warm water starts having an affect on a certain part of my anatomy, that has been kind of ignored in the last couple of weeks with being so busy at the Sierra Inn then Brian showing up. I begin stoking my cock not thinking about anything in particular, just enjoying the sensation trying to release before the water gets cold. Finally when I get close to climaxing, I close my eyes. Suddenly a picture pops into my mind, a picture of Brian lying on my bed naked, masturbating. After seeing that mental picture I cum fast, and I cum hard.
"Oh that's not good," I say to myself, as I come down from my peak.
I drain the tub and get out, feeling guilty as hell. I know it was just a mental picture but for some reason I feel like I have violated Brian in someway just by thinking that way about him. He just got done being treated as some sort of sex toy and here I go envisioning him in a sexual way. I put on my sleeping clothes a t-shirt and shorts and make my way into the hall, putting Brian's clean clothes in the drier before laying down on the couch to try to sleep. I start to think maybe my Dad was right, maybe subconsciously I do have some sort of ulterior motive in taking Brian in. Maybe all of this time my desire to help him was really just some form of seduction. My mind begins to really race, with all sorts of thoughts. I knew from the moment I got my first good look at Brian that I wouldn't mind seeing him in his birthday suit and possibly doing more than just looking. But up until a minute ago I believed that those desires weren't that strong, and I felt confident that I would be able to fight them. Now, while I still know I would never hurt Brian, I can't say I know for sure what my true motive in taking him in was. And it hurts me to think that, because Brian deserves so much better than that. He deserves somebody that would love for the special human being he so obviously is, and not somebody that only wants him for sexual pleasure.
Just as I am about to enter a deep depression a thought crosses my mind. If I didn't really care about Brian, if all I really wanted from him was sex that image of him I got while I was masturbating wouldn't have bothered me in the least. I would have just rolled with it and hoped to get a better picture the next time I jack off. So maybe my feelings for Brian aren't just sexual, though I do have to admit that I do have some of those feelings to. And that I can live with, as long as that isn't the only thing I feel for him. Suddenly the thought crosses my mind that I could possibly be falling in love with Brian, but it's only been two days and I quickly right it off as being totally impossible. That is the last thing I think before drifting off to sleep.
"CPS, Mr. Wasdin please open up," the voice along with the banging on the door startles me out of my sleep, early the next morning.
After crawling back into my skin, I quickly get off the couch and open the door to find Julie and Mr. Lofton standing outside. I quickly realize that Mr. Lofton was the one speaking and wonder how a voice that loud could come from a man that small.
"Mr. Wasdin, sorry to disturb you so early but we are here to do a random inspection of your home," Julie says.
"Oh sure, come on in," I say forgetting about the mess of clothes and papers that is my living room.
I open the door wider to let Julie and Mr. Lofton in. When they enter the apartment I think I see Julies eyes bug out to New Mexico. I stand by the door, trying to wake up as Julie and Mr. Lofton start walking around.
"Mr. Wasdin did your closet explode?" Julie asks, it sounds like a joke but she isn't laughing.
"No, I'm sorry it's not usually like this, but we are getting ready to move," I lie.
"Where is Brian?" Mr. Lofton asks as he steps over my mail from a few weeks ago.
"Sleeping in the bedroom," I say. "I was sleeping on the couch," I add quickly.
Julie goes down the hall then comes back quickly, nodding her head to Mr. Lofton.
"Mr. Wasdin, did you get the references?" Julie asks me after she's returned to the living room.
"Yeah, I have their information right here," I say going over to the breakfast bar and grabbing the sheet of paper with my references contact information I had written out last night.
"Thank you," Julie says after I have handed her the piece of paper. "Will you be enrolling Brian in school today?"
"Yes, yes I am," I say nodding my head emphatically. "As soon as Brian wakes up."
Just then Brian comes out into the living room from the bedroom, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the back of his hands.
"What's going on?" he asks sleepily.
"Julie was just checking on you," I say.
"Good morning Brian," Julie says, with a warm smile on her face.
"I don't want to go anywhere else," Brian says, quickly panic slightly evident in his voice.
"Don't worry," Julie says. "This is just a routine check. And while the place is messy if you assure me it's just because of the move I think we can overlook that for now."
"I promise, our new place will be spotless," I say, hoping I sound at least half way believable.
"Well please let me know as soon as you move," Julie tells me.
"I sure will," I say.
With that Julie and Mr. Lofton are out the front door. I think to myself that was too easy, and suddenly I get an uneasy feeling they are definitely up to something. I just can't figure out what it is.
"So buddy what do you want for breakfast?" I ask, Brian who is still standing by the hallway.
"Cereal," he says.
"Oh," I say. "We're going to have to go out for that." Actually no matter what he had said, unless he had asked for just coffee, we would have to have gone out. "So hurry up and get dressed, your clothes are in the dryer.
A half hour later we are sitting in the McDonalds, Brian inhaling a plastic bowl of Cheerios while I choke down an Egg McMuffin, suddenly remembering that I don't even like eggs. Brian has been quiet all morning, but I figure he is just tired, since we were woken up early. When we leave McDonalds, there are still ten minutes left until seven o'clock.
"Where are we going now?" Brian asks, when we get into the car.
"To find the nearest school," I say scratching my head.
"Do we have to?" Brian whines, reminding me of just how young he really is.
"Brian, you have to go to school," I say. "Besides, you're not actually going to start today, we're just going to sign you up is all. I have your birth certificate and immunization records in the trunk remind me to bring them in with me."
"OK," Brian says he stares out the window.
I pull out the piece of paper where I scribbled down the address of the nearest elementary school yesterday. Unfortunately they do not build elementary schools along main streets, they are always tucked away in a residential neighborhoods where you have to negotiate a maze of streets and houses. With my key sense of direction we travel the three miles to the school, plus a ten mile detour and get there just as the office is opening.
I park the car and get out, opening the trunk and taking out Brian's paperwork. I turn for the school building but quickly realize I forgot something in the car.
"Brian, come on," I say opening his door. "We have to do this. I promise you it won't be that bad."
"No buts' Brian we have to get you back in school," I say, in a firm tone.
Brian reluctantly gets out of the car, and I lead him into the school building. The office is right up front and we are immediately greeted by a woman with a large smile on her face.
"Hello there," she says, as Brian and I stop in front of her desk. "How may I help you?"
"I need to enroll my foster son here," I say. "I know CPS usually handles this, but we have kind of a unique circumstance and I wanted to be here to do this."
"OK," the lady says, the smile disappearing altogether from her face. "I'll be right back."
"See this place isn't so bad," I tell Brian, after looking around. The office is enclosed from the rest of the school, but everything is very clean and teachers are coming in and out as they to their mailboxes before the school day starts. All the teachers seem friendly as they are joking with each other as they meet in the mail room.
"I guess," Brian mumbles.
"Here is the paperwork you need to fill out," the secretary says returning with a small packet of papers. "I'll make copies of his birth certificate and immunization record."
I hand her the papers and she disappears again as I take a pen from her desk and start filling out the paper work. To fill out most of it I have to ask Brian for the answers and fortunately he knows a lot more about himself than most kids his age would. Soon the lady returns and waits patiently for me to finish filling out the rest of the paper work before handing me back the originals of Brian's documents.
"Since you're the one enrolling him you are going to have to come in when he gets transferred to another home to withdraw him," the lady tells me, a smug tone in her voice.
"That won't be happening," I say. "Brian, will be living with me for the remainder of the school year," I say.
In reality I have no way of knowing if this will be the case or not, my statement was really wishful thinking. But the tone she was talking made me angry.
"When can he start?" I ask.
"Since tomorrow is Friday, we'll have him start Monday," the lady says. "School starts at eight thirty and lets out at 3, here's a bus list. Come here early on Monday and I will show you to his classroom."
"Thank you," I say.
"See you have a four day weekend," I tell Brian as we walk back to the car.
"Whatever," Brian says, as he drags his feet over to the passenger side of the car.
The ride to the Sierra Inn is silent, Brian being too lost in his pouting to talk to me. When we get to the motel I quickly go back to my office, and try to catch up on the mountain of work that has piled up since I have been working fewer hours the last few days. I leave Brian in the break room, watching television. In the middle of the morning he comes into the office and lies down on the couch to take a nap, still looking like he is pouting.
Soon after he lies down and falls asleep, my phone rings. The apartment complex has approved my application and I set up to move in on Saturday. I quickly call Julie and leave her a voicemail to let her know that I have my move set up. The rest of the day goes by uneventfully, as we bring in lunch from a local sandwich shop and Brian absolutely inhales his sub but spends most of the rest of the day starring at the television in the break room. We leave for home about six thirty, stopping at McDonalds on the way home for dinner and a supermarket to get some boxes. When we get to the apartment Brian helps me start packing some clothes, and we start to joke about some of what he calls my ugly shirts. Though I think they are stylish. It doesn't matter if he's making fun of my stuff or not, at least his mood seemingly brightened.
At about ten we head to bed, well Brian heads to bed and I head to the couch. I fall asleep as I am very tired from an extremely long day.
"Help! Help me!" I hear Brian scream, jarring me awake and quickly I jump of the couch and dash for the bedroom.
To Be Continued...
Comments/suggestions are welcomed at firstname.lastname@example.org
Part 7 Coming Soon!