Tag is so much more understanding about my confession than I could ever have hoped for. With the sun beginning to set, he's still allowing me to spill my guts, no laughs, not a single negative comment about my deepest, darkest desires.
"Here yeah go Robbie, kill it, I've had enough, my throat is burning like all get out."
The last of the joint is passed, burns the very tips of my fingers. I take as much a hit off it possible, searing pain at my lips.
"Hack, hack."
Chokes, coughs, sputters, tries to hold in the smoke only to cough it all out. I smash the roach into a white quartz garden rock.
"C'mon, let's get inside before the gnats and mosquitoes come and eat us alive. There are still some Pizza Pockets left over in the oven. How's about a Mike's Hard Lemon? You up for a Pay-per-view?"
"Yeah, I'm with you Tag, just want to thank you for being so cool. I don't think anyone else would have been half as understanding. DAMN, just got bit! Look at the size of that thing!"
"It's not the big ones that do the biting, it's the smaller one's. Still those things creep me out, look like flying spider's, don't you think?"
"I'm getting myself in before they eat me alive Tag. Think they are into me big time, I'm not on the dinner menu if I can do anything about it."
We get up, run to the back door, slam it closed behind us, not waiting for the spring to pull. I have no intention of being chased around Tag's house all night by flying vampires, doubt that it's on the top of his list either. We meet at the oven, Tag grabs a pot holder off the counter, opens up the oven, retrieves the overcooked pockets.
"Go get the drinks will yeah? I'll meet you in the living room in a minute, I've got to send my parents a text, let them know that you're staying over, that were gonna rent a movie on their cable account. Be right back, OH, get some napkins."
"Sure thing."
I settle into the big recliner at the far end of the living room. The folding tray next to the chair is already set up. Looks around the room, see's a tray next to the other recliner, another next to the sofa. Guess the family eats dinner in the living room most of the time cause they all blend in pretty well with the dark leather furniture. It's really comfortable overstuffed furniture, completely over-sized, soft, welcoming. Sinks back, pulls the handle on the side, feet rise in front of me. I reach over to the tray table, fingers wrap around the cable changer. This must be Tag's dads chair, the power chair in the living room. I never really noticed there was a sort of plan to the set up, I'm sitting in the Papa Bear's Chair, the sofa with it's fluffy satiny pillows must be Mamma Bears domain while the scuffed up recliner on the opposite side of the room for sure has to be Tag's. He's always got his feet up on something, the foot rest section of the recliner shows signs of wear from his sneakers rubbing the leather.
"All set, Mom said to say Hi, said you're welcome to stay as long as you want too. Just stay out of their bedroom that's all. I don't think either of us needs to go in there anyway. She keeps it so neat that she'd know in a second if there was a foot print on her carpet. Bit of OCD if you ask me."
"Dude, I'm not getting myself into anymore trouble than I have on my plate. Let's get this show on the road, what do you want to watch?"
"What ever you want, I'm good for horror, Sci-fi, pretty much anything but don't put any chick flick crap on. I don't want any tear jerker on tonight."
Tear jerker? TAG? Does he normally watch that kind of movie?
"Why the hell would I put one of those on?"
"Don't laugh, mom, dad and I are really into those animal movies. I can't tell you how many times I've gone to bed, wiped out from crying over some whale, family of lost geese or a dog who finds his home with some dork assed kid. I'm a sucker for the Disney Channel shit, have been ever since I was little. You tell anyone about this, I'll kick the crap outta you, got it?"
Laughs my ass off, nearly rolling out of the recliner. Can't believe Tag just fessed up to being all mushy about this shit. Hold it, why am I laughing at him, he just listened to hours of my sick shit, never laughed at me once. Glances over at him, his face is contorted, laughing, tears rolling down his cheeks, guess he's just as shocked to his admission as I am.
All is good, no harm, no foul. My fingers press the channel changer, scrolls through the online listings. Hmm, the new Superman movie, haven't seen that one yet, looks back to Tag for his up or down. His lower lip pushed up, head moving in a slow up and down motion. He reaches to his tray table, grabs the hot pocket, stuffs it in his mouth. I take this as his approval of my choice in entertainment.
"Accept."