Night Moves
Workin' on our night moves... Tryin' to lose the awkward teenage blues...
Workin' on our night moves... And it was summertime... And oh the wonder... We felt the lightning... And we waited on the thunder... Waited on the thunder...
I awoke last night to the sound of thunder... How far off I sat and wondered...
Ain't it funny how the night moves? When you just don't seem to have as much to lose?... Strange how the night moves... With autumn closing in ...
The feeling of something running down my face wakes me up. I reach up, and wipe away the droplet of sweat trickling across my cheek. I look at my my watch on the night-stand, and silently curse. It's 1 am, and (not for the first time,) I find myself longing for the icy air-conditioning of my Aunt's apartment. I moved out last month, after I turned 18, ready to go to college and take on the world.
Instead, I'm in a 2-room apartment, sweating my butt off.
My window unit died with a gasping rattle two days ago. The same day this damn heat-wave started. Convenient. My skin is coated in water, as if someone took a basting-brush and painted me with it intentionally. I get up, and walk to the bathroom. A cold bath would be perfect right now, but all I have is a shower. It'll have to do. I turn the water on full force, and bite back a yelp of surprise when it hit's my body. I brace my arms against the narrow walls of the shower, and let my head hang down.
I watch the water swirl down the drain into the sewers. Ah, the sewers. Home of my best friends. Yes, they live down there... four individuals and their father. A family. Dare I say it, MY family. I smile, and turn to let the spray hit my back. The icy water soaks my ginger hair, and scrapes the last traces of sweat from my skin. I shut the water off and grab a towel. The terry-cloth feels corse on my damp skin. I pull on a pair of cotton shorts and a tank-top.
The idea of laying back down on sweaty sheets doesn't appeal to me, so I go into my living room/kitchen. I get a glass from the cabinet, and melting ice from the freezer of my little fridge. I fill the glass with cubes and water, and go over and sit on my sofa. All the windows in my apartment are open, hoping to catch the breeze that normally sings through the city at night. There seems to be little chance of that. The air in the urban canyon where I live sits stagnate. I drain the water and refill it, pressing the cold, damp glass to my forehead. Without warning, the entire street go's dark, and I lose the little relief I was receiving from a cheap electric fan.
Suddenly my phone starts to play it's cheery ring-tone and blink. I grab it off the coffee table and answer. "Hi Leo. What's up?" I bite back a laugh at his surprised stutter. "No, you didn't wake me up. It's not like I can sleep when it's 95 degrees outside and inside too! What's going on?" I ask. Leo explained that the city announced rolling black-outs to help with the drain on the power supply on the 11 o'clock news. My area was on the docket for tonight, did I want to come stay with them? Donnie calls out in the back ground that I can have his room, and he'll sleep on the sofa. Leo tells him to hush. "Staying with you all sound great. I'll grab my stuff and head down."
No, they'll come and get me.
The sewers smell, but it's nothing compared to being down-wind of a dumpster in the dead of summer. The lair is a little damp, but cool and inviting. I know Donatello meant it when he said I could use his room, but the sofa suits me fine. Leo sit's in front of the TV and turns on "Space Hero's" (with the volume low so I can rest) and Raph flops on the other end of the couch with Spike and reads his MMA league magazine. There's a crash from the kitchen, and I sit straight up. Mikey comes out hopping on one foot, having had a pan land on his toes. Donnie looks embarrassed, although I can't figure out why. It's nothing new.
I also can't figure out why I thought I'd get more sleep down here than I would topside. These guys don't know the meaning of the word 'quiet'.
Michelangelo comes into the main room with a steaming hot pizza, and my stomach growls. He offers me some and I find myself sitting on the floor along side Leo, eating pizza, and watching Captain Ryan save the galaxy again, as Raph makes cynical comments and Don steals glances at me over the computer.
I smile, take another piece of spinach-chicken pizza, and a drink of cola. I let out a belch, and blush as they laugh and let out burps of their own.
These four mutant turtles? I call them my brothers.