Cold Shower Tuesday
For the disclaimer and Summary see 'Thirteen'
Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews guys.
July 21, 2005
"Dylan!" I could hear Zoe scream my name as she ran down the basement stairs, and I'm pretty sure the dead could hear her too. "Dylan!" She walked in my room and slammed the door. I put my arm over my eyes knowing that she would turn on the light. "Dylan!" You know I don't think it mattered that I was less then 2 feet away from her, she still felt the need to scream. "I know you can hear me, brat."
"What?" I moaned groggily pulling the covers above my head.
"Mom wants you up in the kitchen pronto." She said fiddling with something on my dresser.
I moved my arm slightly to see the alarm clock on my nightstand. It read 11:15. "She knows I don't even attempt to see the light of day before noon. What does she want?" Zoe just shrugged. "Wait, you told her it wasn't mine right?" Thinking of my stash.
"It's nothing like that." Zoe said walking toward the door before stopping. "And, man, if mom found your stash I'd turn you in faster then the road runner."
"Love you too, sis." So this isn't usually how I wake up. I usually wake up with no one screaming my name. Those are good days. I manage to get out of bed, not even bothering to change out of my flannel pajamas. I think you're starting to get that I don't really care about outward appearances. I walked slowly up the basement stairs not really looking forward to what mom wanted. Mom and me never really see eye to eye. I turned the quick corner to see my whole family in the kitchen. Mom was leaning against the counter with her head in her hands, dad was leaning against the wall by the phone, Tristen was in the chair closest to the sliding door and Zoe was sitting on the other side of the counter in a barstool. There was a tall blonde, tan woman standing in the middle of all of us. "Whoa, who's the amazon?" I asked sarcastically. And right there is the reason I don't get up before noon, I don't know when not to open my mouth.
"Dylan, please." Mom pleaded holding her hand up to me. I had obviously interrupted a fight. I rolled my eyes and looked at dad, usually he would sympathize with me. All he did was shrug his shoulders and fold his arms across his chest. Mom turned around and saw that I was annoyed with her. Why wake me up early, demand my presence and then tell me not to speak? "Dyl, I'm sorry, but this is your grandmother."
I took a double take at the amazon that stood in the middle of my kitchen. "You mean to tell me that this lady is my grandmother?" I couldn't believe it. She didn't look a day over forty.
"I know, I look good for fifty-nine." Grandma said smoothing down her dress.
I looked over at dad to confirm. "Why do you think I married your mother."
"Wow, I lucked out with the good genes." I said leaning against the wall.
"Yeah, now all you got to do is learn how to use it." Zoe mumbled under her breath.
"You know what! Get bent!" I shouted losing my cool. I usual had some sort of reserve toward Zoe but she exactly how to push my buttons and she pushed them hard.
"Dylan! Now is not the time." Mom pointed out, clearly meaning she didn't want us to fight in front of her mom.
"Whatever." I let out going back down into the basement. Mom always said that after I have a break out and start yelling. Not after Zoe does. I think it's because I'm a tomboy. Mom's a prissy girl, just like Zoe.
I sat down on the old beige colored couch with the corners duck taped. It was the ugliest thing in the world but for some reason dad wanted to keep it. Mom just eventually gave in. I sat in the middle of the couch with my knees under my chin when I heard some one with clunky shoes coming down the stairs. I knew right away that it was dad with his cowboy boots on. No matter how much of a tomboy I become I will always be a daddy's girl, not that I'd ever admit it. I didn't move, knowing that he would sit in his uncomfortable white chair that Tristen usually sits in. "You want a Popsicle?" I sat and thought for awhile then nodded. I heard him searching for an orange one knowing that it was my favorite. I smiled to myself. Dad had never really told me he loved me. Not really. Not as often as some parents do. But I know he loves me by when he does little things for me. Saving me a burger when I'm not home to get one. Buying me an ice cream from Fat-so-Burger when I'm in a bad mood. And searching through the whole freezer searching for my favorite Popsicle.
He handed me the Popsicle and sat back down in his chair. "Thanks, dad."
At that loving moment in time Ben Kelso had to barge into the basement. "Dylan!" He stopped short of plowing into the couch.
"Yeah?" I asked warily. He never really had anything good to say. It was usually about boobs or firecrackers.
"There is a really hot chick in your kitchen! And it's not your mom or your sister." He said rushing it out in one breath. He was breathing hard now with all the excitement.
"Alright Kelso, listen closely because I think after this you're going to have to go take a cold shower," I said slowly. Dad tried to stifle a chuckle. "That lady that's upstairs… Get ready for it… is my grandmother, you numbskull!"
Ben let out a horrified screech and raced out of the basement. I sat back with my knees up to my chin and unwrapped my Popsicle. I looked over at dad. "Wanna watch some TV?"