"Mark!"
"What?"
"MARK!"
"What!"
"Come here!"
"Why?"
"Someone's here!"
"Who?"
"I don't know, I've never seen him before."
"Oh no. Cindy! Don't let him in! Mom will freak!"
"Why, is he dangerous? I already did."
"Shit! Where's mom?"
"Not up here."
"Shit! Cindy…go smuggle him up here or something, hurry!"
"I swear to God Mark, you need to find different friends."
"Go!"
"Mark? Is someone here? You're still grounded you know. It hasn't been two weeks..."
"Okay mom, gimme two seconds."
"Mark Cohen…"
"Two SECONDS, mom."
I raced off after Cindy down the stairs.
Sure enough, Roger stood, disheveled, on our doormat.
He looked so incredibly out of place I burst into laughter before I was even off the stairs.He shot me a look that read, "Why the FUCK are you laughing at me?", but uncomfortably said nothing.
"Roger! Uh, wow. You…are…in my house! Uh, this…is Cindy-" I pointed.
He said nothing. He just managed to look even more uncomfortable.
I raised an eyebrow and continued awkwardly, "And Cindy, this…is, Roger. Who…I have no idea why he's in our house…um…"
I really didn't have any idea why he was here. Or how he was here for that matter. I'd last seen him over a week ago, and I hadn't spoken to him since then, let alone given him our address.
Nonetheless, Cindy stuck out her hand and said, "Nice to meet you."
In an extreme show of internal conflict, Roger politely shook her hand, then promptly dropped it, leaned close to my face, and whispered, "Listen, can I talk to you? Like, outside or somewhere?" He glanced at Cindy.
"Uhh…"
"Mark! Who is here? Oh! Hello there!" My mother trotted down the stairs, looking very much like a fifties housewife with her hair up in obnoxious pink curlers, wearing a floral apron, hands buried in matching oven mitts.
Roger glared at her.
Immediately she put up her guard. Scowling, she removed her oven mitts slowly, as if preparing for a fight. Calmly, she smoothed the front of her dress, turning her head to the side slightly.
"Mark…?"
"Mom, this is Roger."
To Roger I whispered, inaudibly, "Please be polite."
To me he whispered back, "I don't have time for this, can we go outside?"
I looked from Roger to my mom, and then said, "I'll be right back. We have to go outside."
"Mark…" She warned.
"It's really important."
I grabbed Roger's elbow and tugged him out the door.
He look around nervously for a few seconds before speaking.
"Look. Mark. Um…do you think, like, I could stay at your house tonight?"
"What? Uh-"
"Listen. I don't want to sound like a pussy or anything but my dad…he like, fuckin' snapped."
"Oh no."
"You know, whatever dude, but, can- do you think- I'll just sleep in my car or whatever in your driveway, I won't even come in. I just can't, like- I don't know."
"Okay Roger, I don't know how this makes you a 'pussy', but I'll defiantly talk to my mom."
"Listen, Mark." He took hold of my shoulders so I was facing him. "It's not because I'm scared, okay?"
"Roger-"
"I just can't- I'm going to fucking kill him, I swear to fucking God! If I stay in that house anymore- I'm going to stab him in his fucking gut. Seriously I am."
He dug his nails into his palms and started rambling, pacing the driveway. "I can't go to the guy's houses, because- like- not Joe either. He might- my dad knows- I can't Mark, I'm gonna fucking kill him! Look. I'm sorry. No- I can just drive until tomorrow. I can park-"
"Roger!"
He inhaled and looked at me.
"I'm going to go talk to my mom. Stay out here for like, two seconds."
He nodded.
I went into the house, but then popped my head out the door.
"And don't leave." I told him.
Right away my mom was on my case.
"What is going on?"
"Mom, come here." I spotted my dad in the living room and pulled her into the kitchen, out of earshot.
"My friend Roger is outside."
"I know, and you are not supposed to have friends over-"
"Mom! Mom. I am not three, okay? I need you to listen. His dad hits him-"
"He what!"
""Ssh! His dad is not cool, at all, okay? He needs to stay here tonight. I am not asking your permission. He needs to."
With that, I turned to go fetch Roger.
"Mark!" My mother called after me.
I turned slowly to face her.
Sniffling, she threw her oven mitts down on the table and whispered, "Well of course he can stay."
I smiled, and nodded, walking to the door.
Then I quickly turned around, ran to her, threw my arms around her, and then went outside.
Roger was sitting cross-legged on the lawn, the window on the front door casting a beam of light over his frame.
He looked up when I opened the door.
I flagged him inside.
With a look of genuine relief, he leapt to his feet and tagged at my heels.
My mother, flustered and excited as ever ran into the hall. "Oh, hello there Roger!"
Roger blushed.
Before he could blink, she was hugging him. His arms were plastered to his sides, and his face was crammed right into her ample bosom.
He tolerated her, and I did nothing to stop her.
I glanced over at Cindy, and we smiled.