The Good, The Bad and the Molly – Chapter Four_(1)

“So what exactly is the purpose of you bringing me out here?” Daisy asked as we walked together through the town.

“I didn’t realize I needed a purpose.” I answered her. “Don’t you ever hang out with your friends after school or something?”

“What friends?” she asked me with a sarcastic smile. “Nope. My best friends are my computer, my books, Khan Academy, Project Gutenberg and Duolingo.”

I chuckled to myself. “You know, my friends call me a stiff for working too hard.” I told her, as if that fact in itself was a hilarious joke. “I need to introduce them to you sometime.”

“Try it and you die.” Daisy said seriously.

“I thought Kurz Gesagt was another good friend of yours.” I remarked. “What happened, did you two have a fight?”

Daisy bit her upper lip in thought. “I thought it was cool, but it’s so simple. It doesn’t bother to go into detail beyond what a sixth grader already knows.”

“You’re such a nerd.” I replied. “Well, besides, I thought it would be cool for us to hang out. Y’know, get some brother-sister bonding time.”

“Brother-sister bonding time.” Daisy repeated slowly, looking at me weirdly. “You know what? Sure. Why not? I just hope that you’re getting something out of this, because I’m not.”

“I think I’ve figured out why you don’t have a boyfriend.” I muttered.

“Yeah, because I’m not looking for one.” she reminded me. “Or maybe it’s because I don’t walk in on my friends naked. Or, or, here’s a thought, maybe it’s because I obsess over one girl for a year and call out her name when I’m having meaningless cheap sex with some two-cent hussie I met on campus. Oh no, wait, that’s someone else.”

“Shut up.” I replied bitterly, and Daisy, although rare for her, grinned at me in response. She sure loved to push my buttons sometimes.

“I’m tired.” I nonchalantly yawned after about a minute of walking, and sat down on a nearby bench.

“Me too.” Daisy replied. “Feel lucky that you didn’t have to get up early for church. If God was really all-loving, you think he would show us nighthawks some love and make a commandment to hold mass later in the day.”

I chuckled. “Nice.” I felt out a fist, which she bumped, even though she was rolling her eyes while doing so. “Well, take comfort in the fact that I spent my Sunday morning in bed, doing nothing.”

“That just makes me jealous.” she muttered with a humorous smile. “Plus, going to come out and say it now, John Miles Baptists are dumb.”

“You’ve been holding this one in for a while, haven’t you?” I asked her.

“They’re so backwards.” she whined. “They still believe in the devil incarnate, for one thing. I didn’t realize we still lived in the 1500s, but that’s cool. And hey! If you ever want to make friends quickly and be nice to people, be ready to go to a confessional. If you’re a member of their church, you’re encouraged to treat people with initial distrust. Like… what?!”

“You’re angry, aren’t you?” I asked her, half humorously, half supportively.

“I just hate when a regressive message is brought to the masses and they just eat it up.” she complained. “It sure would be great if people would realize that no authority is perfect and learn to judge a moral by its substance, not its medium.”

I shook my head in confusion. “Huh?”

She sighed. “Nothing. I’m just annoyed.”

“Mm.” I replied lazily, rapidly losing interest in the conversation. My eyes travelled over the street until they landed on an ice cream store, and as soon as I saw it, I got a powerful craving. “Hey, do you want ice cream?”

After I finished my sentence, I realized that Daisy was still ranting. She stopped and chuckled. “Sure.” she answered. “Anything to shut me up, huh?”

I chuckled myself, albeit nervously. “Sorry.”

She shrugged. “I don’t care.” she told me. “I don’t have any money on me, so it’s on you.”

I sighed. “I guess I’ll pay for this one.” I conceded. “But only because I’m a gentleman!”

She laughed. “You honestly think you’re a gentleman? You?!”

“Oi!” I interjected, a little hurt.

“Read more Jane Austen novels, you bozo.” She laughed again as she stood up. “Come on, ice cream… remember?”

I smiled to myself. So mature yet so not. I stood up and together, we walked up to the ice cream store and stood in line. When we got to the front, a kind-looking guy with a round face smiled at us. “Hi there! What can I get you?” he asked in a slightly Russian accent.

“Hey!” I warmly responded. “Could I please get a single-scoop cone of… chocolate chip, please?”

“Of course!” he kindly responded as he got a cone and began to fill it. “And for the lady?”

Daisy, standing next to me, shrunk back and grabbed my shirt with both hands, immediately looking down to the floor.

I sighed. Ironically, in her attempts to look immature in one way, to me, she came across as immature in another way. I wish she could get over her desire to look small and helpless. “Sorry,” I smiled to the shopkeeper. “She’s really shy around strangers.” I turned to her and knelt down slightly. “What would you like, Daisy?” I asked her in a sickly sweet voice. To anyone else, I was being a supportive older brother figure. To her, though, I was mocking her and she knew it.

“Rocky road.” She mumbled in a squeaky voice.

I got back up and looked at the shopkeeper. “A single-scoop cone of rocky road, please.”

He smiled and nodded, and got us our order. After we paid, we sat back down at the same bench and started to enjoy our ice cream.

“One scoop.” she complained as she bit into her ice cream. “You cheapo.”

“When you pay for your own food you can get whatever you want.” I fired back at her. “So why do you have to do the whole shy thing in front of absolutely everyone?”

“People always recognize weird behavior, especially in kids.” she began, as if she had already made this speech for when I ask. “In fact, people are looking for it. If I tried to hide the fact that, let’s face it, I’m a genius…”

I nodded to recognize the fact.

“Thanks – then eventually I’ll slip up and people will start treating me differently. So the shyness is like an extra layer of security. If I ever do anything weird, people can chalk it up to me being shy, not being super smart.”

“But why is it bad if people treat you like a genius?” I asked her.

“Expectations.” she simply answered. “If my parents found out I could do half the stuff I can, they’d always be pushing me. I like having free time, having people applaud me for being able to graph linear patterns, and being able to read my books in peace without people quizzing me on them. If my parents found out about me, they’d make me go through Dr. Young’s gifted program.” she shuddered. “I don’t even want to think about how hard they work you there.”

“Maybe it might help you get your dream job though.” I pointed out. “What do you want to be when you’re older?”

“I don’t know yet.” she answered. “Probably something in the sciences. Getting a career in the arts is stupid. Books are for reading, not writing. Plus, people who write stories are usually pretentious as hell. Maybe a psychologist or a neuroscientist or something.”

“Brains, huh?” I remarked. “Well, with your skill sets, you could do anything you want.”

“I know.” she acknowledged. “That’s why I want to remain a secret, at least for now. Otherwise, expectations will cripple me.”

Daisy may have been smart, but her way of dealing with her problems was definitely that of a twelve-year-old. “Molly wants to go into interpretation, translation, and language analysis.” I said aloud.

“I know.” she nodded. “Believe it or not, she tells her own family stuff.”

“I think that’s cute.” I continued. “She’s adorable when she’s all focussed.”

“Have you told your family you want to be a teacher?” Daisy asked, ignoring me gushing about Molly.

“Huh? Um, nah.” I shifted in my seat.

She chuckled. “Oh right, you get along with your family about as well as Sir Isaac Newton got along with his.” She grinned.

I shifted in my seat again, saying nothing, and looked down. She looked over at me and stopped grinning. “Ah, not a thing you like talking about, huh?” she asked awkwardly. “Well, maybe we shouldn’t talk about it anymore. Sound good?”

I think that was her way of saying sorry. “Sound good?” she repeated, and I nodded. I didn’t have the best weekend myself. If I were anyone other than myself, I think I could have changed that years ago. Hell, if I had any kind of spine, I would have just refused to go to my dad’s place yesterday. Luckily, I wasn’t planning to be naked around Molly anymore, so it’s not like she would see my bruises before they heal.


***


The two bottles of Smirnoff lasted an ungodly amount of time. It was easy to picture Chris as a lightweight, but not Jerome. Despite Chris moving in on Monday, even on Friday they were still at it, hooting and hollering and watching more old movies drunk off of their asses on the couch.

I wouldn’t have even been aware if I didn’t get hungry and bored sitting in my room, waiting for the night to pass. The promise I made to Daisy on the weekend was just about the most stupid one I had ever made. Without my usual game of ‘Who looks insecure enough to fuck a stranger,’ Friday nights became insufferably boring.

“Hey guys.” I lazily waved towards the living room as I made my way to the kitchen.

I had my head in the fridge, looking around as I felt a head lean in next to mine.

I sighed. “Hi, Chris.” I mumbled, thrilled with his company.

Chris, in response, started cracking up in really weird-sounding chuckles. I sighed again and pulled some leftovers out of the fridge.

“Aaron…” Chris began, eyeing me as I sat down. “You’re usset.”

“I’m fine, Chris. Just bored.” I answered plainly as I began to eat.

“You… bored?!” Chris asked me as if that were impossible, slurring every word as he sat down opposite me. “Then ye s-should tot’lly hang out with us then!” With that, his head hit the table.

“You okay, buddy?” I asked him, attempting to lift up his hair.

“Yeah.” he mumbled sadly. He had a tendency to be borderline bipolar when he was drunk. “I’m jus’ usset.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked him.

“I’ll never tell.” he spoke into the table. I waited a few seconds, and sure enough, he continued. “It’s juss… you’re a great guy. I don’t want you to feel sad n’ stuff.”

“Chris, I’m not sad. I’m just bored.” I told him.

“Not tonight.” he clarified. “You’s upset annn’ I don’ like it.”

“Chris, really, I’m fine.” I insisted. “Now why don’t we get you back to Jerome?”

Chris sighed a long, annoyed sigh. “I like Jerome a lot.” he told me, emotion overflowing from his voice.

“Then it’s a good thing he’s waiting for you in the living room.” I replied, pushing my food away and getting up so I could help Chris out of his seat. “Come on.”

“But like…” Chris paused. “I mean like, a lot. He’s soooo sweet and…”

“Yeah, he’s a dreamboat.” I interrupted, my patience thinning.