Adobe Slabs: Segment 5

Both boys sat on the couch and enjoyed a well-deserved break with minor chit chat here and there; not anything too substantial, by any means. Just little comments to break the otherwise overly silent atmosphere.

After M's last class had let out for the day, he went home to help Billy put the finishing touches on the living room. What should have taken only a day actually took several between Billy's job and M's classes. Mags had been staying with Billy's mom up until that afternoon to give them time to officially move in.

Both M and Billy promised themselves a celebratory beer once everything was settled. They had just popped open said beers with a clink.

Billy analyzed the label on the bottle. The beers were imports. Which meant from overseas, which meant how the hell did they get here? Of that, M wasn't quite sure himself. But the specialized travel it took to import goods over such perilous seas was pricey. Therefore one had to a.) have money, and b.) know people.

Luckily M b.) knew some people because he a.) had some money.

"Where do you get these, anyway? They're pretty much way better than anything I used to get."

M looked down at the beer. "Oh, there's this place downtown that sells it. You have to know to ask for it though, they don't get many in."

"Is that so?" Billy sunk deeper into the cushions. He looked sleepy and had advertised the couch as almost too comfortable.

"Yep. Want another?"

Though his bottle was only half-finished, Billy said "sure."

M's mind willed his body to move. Finally he miraculously made it to the kitchen on lead feet. It really had been a long time since he'd actually needed to exert himself. It appeared school and video games had eaten up more of his time than he'd originally thought. Go figure.

He reached inside the fridge for two more bottles, and absentmindedly tossed one up and down. Then he had an idea.

"Hey Billy,"

"Hm?"

Once he was sure he had his attention, M gestured like he was going to throw and said, "catch!"

Billy held out his hands and caught the airborne bottle with a grunt. M's football pass would have been better suited to an actual football than a bottle of beer, perhaps? Well. He had enough sense not to open the bottle before throwing it, at least.

On his way back to the couch—er his bed—in the living room—well M's bedroom—damn, whatever. On his way back, M grabbed the bottle opener.

It was the first time he’d been able to think about something other than where the hell all that furniture was going to fit. He usually would have switched on the television by now, but he didn’t want to seem rude or anything. He stole a glance at Billy, whose eyebrows were furrowed slightly.

Right. The time where he would be alone with Mags was fast approaching. Guess it made sense for Billy to be worried about something so scary—and it was scary—especially since the first time M tried to hold her, she bawled up a hurricane worthy of a proper name. No amount of research could have helped him with that category-four tantrum, and boy did he research. At least three exams worth of research. He knew everything there was to know about baby handling. And he was Ema-approved.

Of course when M offered to help Billy watch Mags, Billy was a little more than apprehensive. However, he eventually agreed to it after M’s sound rebuttal: “What else would I be doing? Have some random baby-sitter at my apartment while I sat around and watched? It just doesn’t seem very practical.”

And as if he was cued, Billy cleared his throat and startled M out of his thoughts. “You know," he said, "it was just a bonus I could find someone to split the rent with. The whole point was I was still gonna set aside money for a babysitter. So uh, look, if you ever need one—a baby-sitter, that is—just lemme know. I’ll have one on back-up. Y'know, just in case.”

M swiped his hand back and forth like he was swatting a fly away. “Don’t worry about it. Like I said, it’ll give me something to do. College is too easy for me right now anyway. And it's not like I have a job or anything.”

Billy seemed to mull over the information before he nodded and gave M the ok. Good to know they had the whole mulling thing in common.

In one-on-one situations such as this, M was not usually the one to initiate the conversation. Usually his chatty friends did that all on their own. And they carried the conversations too. Bridal style, no less.

Speaking of chatty friends...

"Oh yeah. One of my friends, Shawnjo, stopped by a couple days ago." So M attempted to initiate a chat. Isn't that what roommates were supposed to do? Drink beer and converse? M felt like he was learning and adapting to new things quite well for someone so used to, well, old things?  "He didn't know about this new arrangement."

"Arrangement...? Oh, you mean me. And Mags."

"Yeah. Can you believe he got mad at me for not telling him first?" To be honest, M did feel a little ashamed. Not about the Shawnjo thing, but rather that his said attempts at conversation seemed a little menial in the long run. M had not realized that until now he didn't have much going on in his life. It was a weird, bittersweet revelation he just shared with... himself. M sighed.

"I dunno. Maybe you should have just told him." Billy murmured. He slowly slid down into a laying position.

All of a sudden M had this image of Shawnjo celebrating a victory over him.

M shook his head. "Not you too..." But only got a small snore in response.

The beer bottle slipped out of Billy's hand and fell onto the floor.

To M's relief it was empty. He quietly disposed of both bottles, switched off the lights and laid himself down in front of the television. As soon as he clicked it on he hit mute.

A few minutes and several silent songs later, the sleeping figure stirred. M twisted away from his muted music videos, only to catch a dazed Billy in mid-yawn.

"Yeah. You were out," M said, "sorry if I woke you."

"Nah. It's my fault. Forgot I'm in your bedroom now. 'Scuse me." He took a long stretch and forced himself off the couch. "G'night." He called, and soundlessly closed the bedroom door behind him.

M looked at the time. He gathered himself up into a sitting position and scooted back until he sat up on the couch. He stripped into his undershirt and boxers and curled up. It was way too hot for a sheet, much less a blanket. He'd had an excruciatingly long last few days, and probably had a long week ahead of him. He had no doubt he was going to need all the sleep he could get.

Every bone ached, every muscle throbbed as they continued to yearn for the space that didn't exist. The past few nights, Billy had been the one that slept on the couch. M had been appreciating every last moment he had with his king-sized bed.

M stretched; well, tried to, anyway. The top of his head squished up against the arm of the couch and his eyes stung with the morning's sun. "Ow, what the hell.." His foot slipped and hit the ground with a jarring thud. Then and only then did he remember where and what his new bed was.

It was quiet, though he couldn't quite remember why he expected noise. He sat up with a sway and retrieved the undershirt he had thrown off in his sleep.

Billy fed Mags another bite of baby food at the kitchen table. They both stared at M as if he was the one out of place. “Hey, uh. " Billy seemed to search for the right words. "Um, morning?"

Oh right. He had a baby as a roommate now too, and babies tended to be synonymous with noise. “Oh, is it morning? One sec.” M curled back onto the couch and pulled a throw pillow on top of his face. Today was the first day he got to watch Mags. With Ema, but regardless. Mags had cried again the last time he held her, and it never ceased to dwindle what little esteem he had down to nothing. He suddenly felt like some huge and terrifying monster. He shrank into himself more and more the longer he postponed the inevitable.

After a few more minutes of wallowing in self-deprecation, ("Okay, time to wake up now? No. Wait. Now? Hold on. Now? Okay.") he picked himself back up and headed to the kitchen.

Not one for preparing a proper meal, he poured himself a generous serving of cereal and sat down across from Billy.

"Whoa." Billy eyed M's dishes of choice.

"What?" M glanced down at his overflowing cereal bowl as he shoved a spoonful into his mouth.

"That spoon. It's huge."

After his bite M inspected the spoon and held back a laugh as it distorted his face; he was still too delirious to not find that highly amusing. "Looks normal to me."

"The bottom alone is like the size of Mags' hand."

"So? She's a baby." M didn't see the issue, until Billy pulled Mag's spoon out of the jar of baby food. M's was at least five times bigger.

"Normal spoons are about twice this size."

"No way. I won't believe you until you show me." M took another bite and added as an afterthought, "I bet you're thinking about tea spoons," and shook his head.

It was nice having company around again, he didn't need his television on while he ate to deter the silence. He had to admit he missed it. The company, not the television. Even though it was only him and his mother (with the more than occasional Shawnjo) for a good six years, it was a drastic change for him when he moved out on his own and found out he knew nothing about keeping a house. So, what, you had to provide groceries and clean up all your messes and wash every dish you dirty and every piece of clothing you wear? It was like a redundant, overly realistic video game. He missed his Zephyrs and his Gales, and even his Shawnjos.

And yet there were some like-minded guys up at the college that would invite him out to play football with them regularly. He'd considered them friends. Despite that, lately he'd seemed to be turning down their offers to play more often than not. His drive had all but diminished.

Or maybe it was never there at all?

Mags’ eyes followed every bite M took.

M, amused by this, slowed down. With every new spoonful he maneuvered the spoon this way and that. Up the hill, and down the hill. Across the bridge, and through the tunnel, just like a train.

Mags giggled and reached out. Babies were so cute sometimes. It made every time they cried practically null and void.

Billy let the act continue only up until the train seemingly sprouted machine guns and explosions were somehow involved, courtesy of M's brilliant sound effects. At which point Mags determined she was finished eating, and would rather squeal and cheer on the destructive train. Billy passed the tiny jar of baby food to M. “Why don’t you try feeding her? I kinda want her to eat. And I'm sure you don't wanna deal with no hungry baby girl later. You wouldn't like her when she's hungry.”

A few hours into the afternoon, Ema finally knocked on the door. Well, M didn't know who it was for sure. But he couldn't imagine who else but Ema would knock and call his cell phone simultaneously after already arriving exactly when they said they would thirty minutes ago.

M answered the door with a newly sobbing Mags attached awkwardly to his side. "Could you make any more noise?" M said as he cradled Mags in his arms. "I thought you were an expert at this!" He whispered as Mags' sobs quieted to soft whimpers with every rock of his arms.

Ema bit her lip. "Sorry, I just didn't know if you'd be able to hear me over the sound of your first day with an infant." She kicked her sandals off and flashed M an apologetic look when they hit the wall with a thud that brought about another wave of wails. "How has she been treating you?" She peered at the whining infant in M's arms and smiled down at her.

"Not bad, she had only cried once until you got here." M squinted his eyes at his sister in accusation and held Mags out for her to take. "You caused it, so you get to calm her down."

Ema raised both her hands and waved them as a means of declining. "No. You hold her until she stops. You'll never learn how to do it yourself if you pass her off to me everytime. You have to do this all on your own in a couple of days!"

M lowered his head dejectedly and brought Mags back up to cradle her. "Yeah. Guess you're right."

Ema navigated around the place, she looked like she was half-expecting to have to watch her step for various baby paraphernalia. "This place doesn't look too bad.” On her way to the couch she must have noticed Billy, who was sitting down at the kitchen table, pen in hand. He looked over at M who still struggled to hush his wailing daughter. He scooted his chair back and moved to get up. “No! You sit right back down!” Ema snapped and Billy immediately obeyed.

"But-" Billy protested.

This was why M trusted Ema. Because she was crazy. And crazy people knew what they were doing. "I know you want to be there for her, but you gotta let him learn." Upon reaching the couch Ema slid her bookbag off her shoulder until it hit the floor, then plopped down. "Now that we have that situated, hi."

Do not get on Ema's bad side, M noted. She was definitely more authoritative than she used to be. Probably dad's doing.

Billy returned to writing and nodded an apprehensive greeting Ema's direction. "'sup..?"

"Oh, the usual. Pretty day outside but I’m cooped up indoors with a ton of homework."

"What homework could you possibly be doing as a senior?" M scoffed. He recalled his senior year, filled with pointless electives and two off-periods. He never had an ounce of homework. He locked the deadbolt and noted that the squirming Mags was probably getting hungry again.

Ema pulled three hefty textbooks out of her bag and set them on the vacant cushion next to her. "Sorry we can't all be as academically inclined as you are, Mr. Tenth-in-his-class-of-seven-hundred-and-already-a-sophomore-in-college-by-the-time-he-graduated. Plus, the curriculum's different over there. I thought I was gonna have an easy senior year, then they decided to tell me I required four more classes here because apparently our histories and mathematical systems are slightly different?" She rolled her eyes and flipped open one of her books.

"That's a little too long of a name to actually be effective..." M said. He made his way over to the dining room area. His hand hovered over the light switch next to Billy. "Do you mind if I...?"

Billy must have been startled by the closeness of M's words, because he jolted up in acknowledgement. "N-nah, go ahead. Might help to see what I'm writin anyway." He added, with an awkward laugh.

Time to feed baby again. M was determined to get the food into her mouth this time. He flipped the switch and started to set Mags up in her high-chair.

Billy watched on with an all-too-knowing grin as Mags flailed this way and that in retaliation, refusing to feed her legs through the designated holes of the chair.

"I thought you had work today, Billy. Also, are you writing a novel?" Ema asked as she pulled a spiral out of her bag.

"Yeah I go in in 'bout an hour," Billy set the pen down and looked up to face her, "and no, why?"

"That novel," M dodged a kick from Mags, "is a so-called 'note' that," and another, "Billy was writing about all the--" she squished the side of his face with the palm of her hand, "thibgs I bight forgidt... like, a to-do list."

Ema clicked the television on and flicked through the channels until she found one devoted to game shows. "Good. So, B, how do you feel about your first night leaving her with this guy?" She pointed at M, who finally finished getting Mags situated to be fed. He wore a triumphant smile as he velcroed a bib around Mags’ neck.

Billy stared at him for a good, long moment. "Well. You're here with him, too, so..."

M popped open a can of baby food he thought sounded delicious and sat down next to Mags.