"Therealljidol"
Therealljidol, Three Strikes
Prompt 1: Black Rainbow
Dad kicked us out.
“Take Ricky with you! And the baby! Go! Walk it off!”
I think Dad knew why we were fighting so much, and he probably thought it was Not Always who was at fault but he would have been wrong.
He’d laid down the law a couple of months earlier. Not Always could only come over if Bette or Dad were home, and we were strictly confined to the public rooms of the house. Dad was no dope, but he was wrong.
Ricky cheered and followed my lanky boyfriend to the door and to be helped into his jacket and boots. Boots he loved and wore every chance he could because Not Always gave them to him. Rubber boots that looked like cowboy boots, even had sheriff’s stars on the front and little painted spurs on the heels. “Vintage,” he told Ricky when he gave them to him. “Vintage is good.”
I busied myself putting Rosie into her stroller. She was normally a quiet baby, fussing only if she was wet, or hungry, but she’d been fussing, loudly, for the past two hours and no one could settle her down. We all knew that there were two things that never failed, being in the car and being outside in her stroller.
It was late. It would be dark soon.
I was in a big ugly huff and wouldn’t talk to Not Always. He contented himself kidding around with Ricky. Walking was good for him, part of his therapy. We took him out for walks all the time, though not usually at this time of night. I could hear them talking.
“What’s the book about?”
“Rainbows.”
“Really? A whole book about rainbows?”
“Absolutely.”
“What does it say about them?”
And so it went. Not Always explaining everything he knew about rainbows. They even spent several minutes talking about black rainbows and Ricky was so fascinated by the concept of a black rainbow that it became the theme of the walk. Every few minutes Ricky would holler, “Not Always! Look! I found one!”
“That’s great Ricky! See, it’s a reflection of that sign over there for the Rainbow Lounge in the window. You found it!” They high-fived and on it went, the search for the elusive black rainbow.
Ricky would tire soon and so he’d push the stroller for a few blocks and after that, Not Always would lift him onto his shoulders and we’d turn around and head back home.
The street lights were on and it was a little chilly. I checked on Rosie. She was sound asleep, bundled up in a snow suit and buried under her cozy blanket. I stroked her cheek, so soft, warm and pink. She was fine. Ricky was fine. Not Always was always fine. I was torn in a million pieces.
And I wrestled with every one of them while “the boys” continued their “intrepid search.” I smiled as Ricky found a rainbow in the ditch. “Oil slick,” Not Always said, and another high-five.
A few minutes later Ricky was hoisted onto Not Always’ shoulders, I’d been up there at a few games, the view is incredible.
“We should head home. Little guy’s pretty tired, didn’t want to push the stroller.”
“It’s been a long day.”
Ricky was asleep by the time we turned into the yard. He’d wound his arms around my boyfriend’s neck, his head on Not Always’ head, snoring softly, as snug as the proverbial bug, probably drooling too. I couldn’t hide my smile.
Dad took Ricky, nodded and said, “time to go home.” And Not Always began to stuff his books in his backpack.
I lifted Rosie out of her stroller and handed her over to Bette who was home now and needed some baby time.
I followed Not Always out to the truck.
“Aren’t you going to kiss me?
”
He pulled me against him and sighed as he buzzed my lips softly. I held on to him tightly.
“We promised,” he said.
“It’s too long.” I groaned.
“You’re too young and it’s only a year and a bit.”
“Have you decided?” I asked.
“I’m staying.”
I moved even closer to him, pressing my whole body into his.
“They’ve offered me part-time at St. Pat’s after I graduate. I’ll be working with the kids, getting hands on experience with Dan and Brenda in the physio department and I can take classes at City in the evenings.”
“And we can be together.” I purred.
“That wasn’t the deal.”
“What? When we go to college, that’s what you said!”
“You won’t be in college. You’ll still be in high school.”
I had two choices. I could cry and throw a tantrum, or I could yell and throw a tantrum. Undecided, my body stiffened in preparation for the storm.
And then he played his ace. He kissed me again, only this time he really kissed me and it wasn’t just a gentle goodnight kiss. It was one of those kisses that start on your lips but go all the way down to…down.
“I love you so much, and this is killing me, but it’s early days for us and I have long plans for you, and I’m not about to start breaking promises now. So, go easy on me, okay? This is killing me.”
We stood like that our bodies pressed into one another until Dad flicked the back porch light on. The next thing to come was a shout for me to go inside usually coupled with an insult. So, reluctantly, I pulled away.
“I’ll try,” I whispered.
I heard the truck pull away as I walked in the back door. Dad was digging in the fridge.
“You’re wrong.”
“What?” He said emerging with a mouth full of something.
“You’re wrong. It’s not Not Always that wants more. It’s me! I want more and he won’t.”
And I burst out crying and ran upstairs to the safety of my attic room.
(AN: Written for Therealljidol, Three Strikes 22-2-8. I'm adding some links to earliers stories about this family. Don't know if it's all of them or not, but it's some. Thank you for taking the time to read this entry.)
https://murielle.livejournal.com/262354.html
https://murielle.livejournal.com/267407.html
https://murielle.livejournal.com/270106.html
https://murielle.livejournal.com/270734.html
https://murielle.livejournal.com/276197.html
https://murielle.livejournal.com/276524.html
Prompt 1: Black Rainbow
Dad kicked us out.
“Take Ricky with you! And the baby! Go! Walk it off!”
I think Dad knew why we were fighting so much, and he probably thought it was Not Always who was at fault but he would have been wrong.
He’d laid down the law a couple of months earlier. Not Always could only come over if Bette or Dad were home, and we were strictly confined to the public rooms of the house. Dad was no dope, but he was wrong.
Ricky cheered and followed my lanky boyfriend to the door and to be helped into his jacket and boots. Boots he loved and wore every chance he could because Not Always gave them to him. Rubber boots that looked like cowboy boots, even had sheriff’s stars on the front and little painted spurs on the heels. “Vintage,” he told Ricky when he gave them to him. “Vintage is good.”
I busied myself putting Rosie into her stroller. She was normally a quiet baby, fussing only if she was wet, or hungry, but she’d been fussing, loudly, for the past two hours and no one could settle her down. We all knew that there were two things that never failed, being in the car and being outside in her stroller.
It was late. It would be dark soon.
I was in a big ugly huff and wouldn’t talk to Not Always. He contented himself kidding around with Ricky. Walking was good for him, part of his therapy. We took him out for walks all the time, though not usually at this time of night. I could hear them talking.
“What’s the book about?”
“Rainbows.”
“Really? A whole book about rainbows?”
“Absolutely.”
“What does it say about them?”
And so it went. Not Always explaining everything he knew about rainbows. They even spent several minutes talking about black rainbows and Ricky was so fascinated by the concept of a black rainbow that it became the theme of the walk. Every few minutes Ricky would holler, “Not Always! Look! I found one!”
“That’s great Ricky! See, it’s a reflection of that sign over there for the Rainbow Lounge in the window. You found it!” They high-fived and on it went, the search for the elusive black rainbow.
Ricky would tire soon and so he’d push the stroller for a few blocks and after that, Not Always would lift him onto his shoulders and we’d turn around and head back home.
The street lights were on and it was a little chilly. I checked on Rosie. She was sound asleep, bundled up in a snow suit and buried under her cozy blanket. I stroked her cheek, so soft, warm and pink. She was fine. Ricky was fine. Not Always was always fine. I was torn in a million pieces.
And I wrestled with every one of them while “the boys” continued their “intrepid search.” I smiled as Ricky found a rainbow in the ditch. “Oil slick,” Not Always said, and another high-five.
A few minutes later Ricky was hoisted onto Not Always’ shoulders, I’d been up there at a few games, the view is incredible.
“We should head home. Little guy’s pretty tired, didn’t want to push the stroller.”
“It’s been a long day.”
Ricky was asleep by the time we turned into the yard. He’d wound his arms around my boyfriend’s neck, his head on Not Always’ head, snoring softly, as snug as the proverbial bug, probably drooling too. I couldn’t hide my smile.
Dad took Ricky, nodded and said, “time to go home.” And Not Always began to stuff his books in his backpack.
I lifted Rosie out of her stroller and handed her over to Bette who was home now and needed some baby time.
I followed Not Always out to the truck.
“Aren’t you going to kiss me?
”
He pulled me against him and sighed as he buzzed my lips softly. I held on to him tightly.
“We promised,” he said.
“It’s too long.” I groaned.
“You’re too young and it’s only a year and a bit.”
“Have you decided?” I asked.
“I’m staying.”
I moved even closer to him, pressing my whole body into his.
“They’ve offered me part-time at St. Pat’s after I graduate. I’ll be working with the kids, getting hands on experience with Dan and Brenda in the physio department and I can take classes at City in the evenings.”
“And we can be together.” I purred.
“That wasn’t the deal.”
“What? When we go to college, that’s what you said!”
“You won’t be in college. You’ll still be in high school.”
I had two choices. I could cry and throw a tantrum, or I could yell and throw a tantrum. Undecided, my body stiffened in preparation for the storm.
And then he played his ace. He kissed me again, only this time he really kissed me and it wasn’t just a gentle goodnight kiss. It was one of those kisses that start on your lips but go all the way down to…down.
“I love you so much, and this is killing me, but it’s early days for us and I have long plans for you, and I’m not about to start breaking promises now. So, go easy on me, okay? This is killing me.”
We stood like that our bodies pressed into one another until Dad flicked the back porch light on. The next thing to come was a shout for me to go inside usually coupled with an insult. So, reluctantly, I pulled away.
“I’ll try,” I whispered.
I heard the truck pull away as I walked in the back door. Dad was digging in the fridge.
“You’re wrong.”
“What?” He said emerging with a mouth full of something.
“You’re wrong. It’s not Not Always that wants more. It’s me! I want more and he won’t.”
And I burst out crying and ran upstairs to the safety of my attic room.
(AN: Written for Therealljidol, Three Strikes 22-2-8. I'm adding some links to earliers stories about this family. Don't know if it's all of them or not, but it's some. Thank you for taking the time to read this entry.)
https://murielle.livejournal.com/262354.html
https://murielle.livejournal.com/267407.html
https://murielle.livejournal.com/270106.html
https://murielle.livejournal.com/270734.html
https://murielle.livejournal.com/276197.html
https://murielle.livejournal.com/276524.html