Gotcha!

Six

A day later I am up in my room typing madly away on my typewriter. I suppose I could use my computer to write, but it just doesn’t make the same satisfying clacking sounds. I really should be working on a new resume, which does not include my last job that I got fired from for stealing office supplies as a reference.

Or maybe I should start applying to schools. Do something with my life.

I shrug to myself, and the wave of motivation dissipates. Failure due to apathy has always seemed the best option to me.

There is a knock on the door. I keep typing, hoping that I can avoid a lecture by ignoring it.

The door opens slightly, “Gabriel?” It’s Luci. The typewriter dings as it reaches the end of a line, and I stop.

“Come in.”

He does, and closes the door behind him. He stands somewhat awkwardly in the doorway looking at the wall covered in post-it notes. I motion for him to sit down. He joins me on the floor, and sits with his legs crossed. I start typing again, “So, where’s you girlfriend?”

He smiles at that, “You parents asked if they could speak to her alone. I thought I’d come up and see what you are up to.”

“I’m writing my great novel.”

Luci leans forward to see, “But there’s only one sentence, over and over.”

“Well, it’s the first line of my great novel at least. I’m practicing for when I write the real thing.”

“Oh.” He shifts a little closer and puts his hand on my knee, “It’s a good first line.”

I clear my throat. That was supposed to be my subtle move. “So, those drugs, eh? Which friend are you holding those for exactly?”

He laughs.

I pout exaggeratedly, “When I told my parents I was holding that pack of cigarettes for a friend they grounded me. And flushed it down the toilet. They obviously find you more trustworthy than me.”

“Obviously.” His hand slides up a little higher. My breath catches.

My sister picks that moment to walk in and Luci removes his hand. “Well, they’ve decided that you dropping those pills was a sign from God that they should save you from the path of temptation, or Satan, or something like that.”

Luci looks perfectly calm and I am sure that I don’t. “Fuck. Will you knock?”

“Fuck, will you stop trying to hit on my boyfriend?”

She has, perhaps unintentionally, managed to get a little too close to the truth. “Fuck you!”

“‘God is my strength!’”

“‘The father’s joy!”

Luci looks extremely freak out by this. He apparently thinks that we have been reduced to religious fervor and are speaking in tongues. I decide the best move is to stop and explain. “My parents obviously were high on God when they named us. Gabriel means ‘strong man of God’ or ‘God is my strength,’ and Abigail means either ‘father’s joy’ or sometimes ‘The Father’s joy.”

“I see.” But it is obvious that he does not see.

“That’s why my parents are so disappointed in me. I’m obviously not a strong warrior of God that will bring the message to the ignorant masses.” I pause, “And Abby is clearly not any father’s joy.”

Luci laughs and my sister just rolls her eyes.