Chapter 972: Thursday’s Guest
I almost had a heart attack when I couldn't find my bike at the usual spot after clocking out of my shift. Thankfully, I was alone at the time so no one else got to question the breadth of my intelligence except for myself.
Rudy the mechanic continued to keep me updated every few hours or so on any progress he's made—which, according to his latest text, was no progress at all. It didn't matter what he removed or replaced, every twist of the ignition only gave back the exact same result: the feeble, heartbreaking sputter of an engine barely clinging to dear life.
It's honestly quite disheartening witnessing his confidence slowly whittle away with every new message I get back. While he hasn't yet officially thrown in the towel, and even outright refused when I dare made the suggestion, the writing was clear on the wall to me.
The man could be the best damn mechanic this world has ever seen, alas, a wrench and some elbow grease aren't gonna solve the type of problem my bike has.
Tyler, the unsung hero, had offered me a replacement if I ever needed one, and while I much prefer the one I have now… his proposal was looking a lot like an inevitability at this point. Especially if I wanted to save my guts from the agony of having to take the bus home from work for the foreseeable future.
Seriously, I've forgotten how disagreeable my body was to being rattled around inside a tightly packed metal box for what felt like hours. By the time I hopped off at my stop, I was practically being pulled the rest of the way home by the sole desire to just rest on my bed for the rest of the day.
But I knew I couldn't. I wouldn't. Still keeping with Amanda's bizarre scheduling, then Thursday was one of Ash's days, and I'd be dead and buried long before I even thought about squandering it.
As I frolicked my way over the front lawn and up the porch steps, I began formulating all kinds of activities we could maybe do together.
A bunch came to mind, but nothing sounded better than a classic movie marathon. The two of us huddled on the couch in front of a big screen, some snacks on the side, and movies playing all day long. I've still yet to introduce her to the entirety of Lord of the Rings. Somehow, I've got a good feeling she'll feel right at home with that.
"I'm back," I announced, spilling my groggy self into the house, eager and waiting to be greeted back any second now by the lovely, soothing melody of Ash's voice.
"Oh, cool, you're back," responded a dull, lazy voice instead. Then there was a yawn, loud and imposing, which gave away a name to that voice. "Welcome home, Big Bro."
I walked deeper inside, a little annoyed, and extremely letdown. There she was, my potato of a sister; lazed up all over the couch, living the fantasy I was just thinking about; scrolling through her feed with the TV tuned to some sappy drama for background noise.
Of all the times to drop by again…
"Sammy," I stood behind the couch, and between her phone and me, I was apparently barely even worth a small glimpse. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm staying over today," she said, putting her feet up on the couch and sinking herself deeper into comfort. "What does it look like?"
"Trespassing, intruding—take your pick."
"You make it sound like I'm not welcome," she said, glancing up at me again. "What, you got something planned? Anything special?"
"No," I said, allowing my ambition to slip away. "Not really."
"I thought so," Sammy said, diving back into her little online bubble, smiling and snickering at funny shorts. "Anyway, I'm here 'cause Mom and Dad are spending time together today and I really didn't want any part in that, so here I am. Plus, it's your birthday soon. Where else would I be?"
"Aww, well aren't you sweet?"
"Right? Oh, here, catch—" She pulled something small out of her pocket, tossed it, and I felt something solid hit my palm as I caught it. I spun my wrist around and I found myself staring at the $2.50 price sticker still plastered on a small stick of deodorant. "—With all my love and thoughts, Big Bro. Hope you like it."
"Love it already," I said, pocketing it. I took a moment to look around, noticing just then how empty the living room seemed to be. "By the way, is Ash around?"
The gradual aroma of grilled cheese and bacon seeping into the space answered my question. Ash emerged from the kitchen, a plate of the tastiest sandwiches I've ever seen in her hands; her ears immediately perking, eyes brightly glistening at the sight of me.
"Master," she said, the softness of her voice, as always, like honey to the ears. "Welcome home."
I smiled back at her in return, and just as quickly felt the smile fade away seeing her hand the plate over to my sister. As if sensing danger, Sammy turned back toward me, shaking her head and raising her arms.
"No, I'm not taking advantage here. I didn't ask her to make me food, alright?" She said hastily. "Okay, look, Ash insisted—she kept insisting—it just felt more rude to decline, you know what I mean?"
"It's as Lady Samantha proclaims, Master," Ash said, backing her up. "I insisted. Your sister had only simply granted me the kindness of indulging me."
"Yeah, what she said," Sammy said with a loud smack, garbling through a mouthful. "I'm just indulging her. That's all."
I don't know how this girl can claim pure intentions while also greedily stuffing her cheeks to the brim. It's like decapitating a dude and claiming it's only to get rid of all his headaches. Sure, whatever you say…
"Fine, alright," I said, deciding to spare her from a big-brother lecture. I turn to Ash instead, sighing. "Just don't pamper her any more than this, alright? We're gonna have a problem if she starts making you paint her nails now."
Ash heeded my orders with a bow and a smile before shifting her priorities over towards me, closing in, and straightening the crook in my collar, the wrinkles in my shirt, reaching and brushing the bangs from my eyes, taking a good long look before letting out a quiet breath that sounded almost like disappointment.
"Of all the times, Master," she whispered, glancing at Sammy with a rueful smirk. "And I was looking forward to today."
"Were you?" I whispered back. "What did you have in mind?"
"I thought perhaps to simply allow my desires to guide me had today gone as planned," she said bashfully, playfully. "But to what end would it have led us… well, who can truly say for sure, Master?"
Suddenly, I'm feeling a rather strong urge to throw Sammy to the curb and bolt the door on the way back in. Is that normal?
"Well, I mean we still could—"
"In time, Master," she reassured, taking her hands off me and stepping back. "Next time."
Funny, It's been 'next time' for quite some time now. I'm starting to think there's actually no such thing.
"Ingredients are still quite plentiful," Ash said, speaking up again. "Would you like me to make you some sandwiches as well, Master?"
I get exactly what Sammy meant about feeling rude. Faced with such earnestness, kindness. At that point, it's no longer about the sandwich. It's about you as an individual. Because only monsters could possibly possess the cold gaping hole in their chest to say no to her.
"Sure," I said, doing my damndest to ignore the hard scowl labeling me a dirty hypocrite over by the couch. "I'd love some."
Wait, what do I got to feel hypocritical for? We're a couple, aren't we? It's alright if I do it. Screw you, Sammy. You're not gonna guilt-trip me.
Ash disappeared back into the kitchen, Sammy's gaze trailing after her as she took another big bite.
"You know," Sammy said, suckling the flavor off her fingers. "If I were a guy, I'd marry her just off these sandwiches alone. They're so good."
I just rolled my eyes at her, scooting her legs off the couch to make space for myself. "This, coming from the same girl that freaked when you first saw her?"
"Oh, shut up—you gonna hold that over my head forever?" She said, glaring. "She just felt… weird. I wasn't prepared for it. My bad for judging a book by its cover, alright? Let it go already."
It felt a little weird sitting in the living room at this angle. This wasn't my usual spot. Usually, a curled-up ball of gray locks and sharp claws would be lying here instead of the two of us. I wonder where that ball could be at this time of day?
"By the way, did something happen last night? At Amanda's?"
Sammy peered at me again over her phone again for an answer, except I was still in the midst of processing what she just said.
"What do you mean?"
"Dad's been acting a little off since this morning," she said. "Like, he's quiet—well, quieter—you know what I mean. Mom's still her usual self, but whenever she talks to Dad it's like… well… it's like she's carefully tip-toeing around him or something. It's weird."
From what I could tell, Sammy didn't sound too concerned about the whole thing, just a little puzzled. Which, for now, was good. Because I don't know if we should be or not about it.
"Well?" She asked again. "Do you know anything about it?"