Bacon Pie

by Candace Robinson

  “Sure.”

  He sits on the couch and taps it. “Now, debrief me on your adventures with the girl you’re focusing on.”

  I sit next to him. “What girl?”

  He winks. “Miss Ophelia Abbie.”

  “Dude, she’s not— I’m not.” I shake my head. Who am I fooling? “Am I that transparent?”

  He squints. “I can see my bedroom through your body. Transparent, you are.”

  I sigh. “Why am I thinking of her?”

  Cole points at his face. “Do I look like a mind reader?”

  “She was kind of a bitch to me and then the”—I point at my nose—“punch.” I concentrate on the beige carpet for a moment. “But yesterday she…” She what? “She was being less bitchy?” And she cupped my face and looked at me with concern and perhaps something more affectionate.

  “People say love is blind.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Is your eyesight failing you?”

  “No. Maybe I have the Stockholm syndrome.”

  He bobs his head.

  “You know, when a person falls for the kidnapper?” I ask.

  He rubs his chin in confusion. “Did she kidnap your heart?”

  “That was a bad comparison—she didn’t kidnap me.” In a weird way, she kidnapped my brain with thoughts revolving around her.

  “What’s going on in that pumping-blood organ of yours, then?”

  “I don’t know.” As I say it, my phone plays, “Who let the Dogs Out”—an alarm. I fish out my cell and turn it off. “I’ve gotta take Pepe for a walk and feed him.” I stand.

  Cole springs off the couch and latches onto my arm. “Are you running away from the truth?”

  “Are you living in a false reality?” I counter-ask.

  He scrunches his face up. “What?”

  I take a breath before saying, “Monica’s out of your league.”

  He shakes his head.

  “Are you going out on another ‘date?’” I ask.

  “Well, I…” He puffs. “Not really, but you—”

  “I won’t force another date,” I say, and before he speaks, I head to the door. I look at him over my shoulder, hand on the doorknob. “Sorry, dude, but you have to look for girls who like you back—just speaking the truth.”

  He widens his eyes and blinks.

  Before he cries or something, I storm out of his trailer.

  On the drive back home, I can’t stop this despairing feeling inside me. But I don’t regret what I said to him—he needs to mature.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lia + Pepe

  After leaving the party last night, I came straight home and fell asleep. Somehow, I managed to wake up super early today.

  Bored out of my mind, I end up playing the Nintendo. I love the world in Super Mario Part Three where everything around is giant. I have to use my whistle to whisk me away from the other tedious worlds to get there quicker.

  My phone rings, interrupting me from trying to bypass one of those flying turtle things—and I end up dying. “Come on,” I groan and pause the game.

  Looking at the phone, I see it’s Mom. “Come. On,” I say again.

  “Hey, Mom, what’s going on?” I answer, semi-sweetly.

  “I wanted to call and check in on my baby,” she replies. I roll my eyes. She just wants to make sure I’m at Dad’s.

  “Just sitting here at the apartment while Dom’s cooking breakfast.”

  “Hmm.” Her voice sounds slightly annoyed.

  “What?”

  “Poor Dom always having to slave away.”

  “He loves cooking.” The delicious smell is penetrating in my room from underneath the door right now.

  “Same difference. Anyway, I wanted to let you know I miss you.”

  “It’s only been two days. And you’ve talked to me on the phone every day.”

  “It’s not the same. But I’m about to head into a training session. I love you.” I would probably feel the same way if I had to travel all the time. At least right now, I have my dads and Barnabas.

  “I love you, Mom. I’ll text you a selfie, so you can look at my face.”

  “Okay, baby. Remember, be good this weekend.”

  “I will.” She acts like I’m still a baby, but I don’t mind.

  Holding up the phone, I snap a picture with a huge over-the-top smile and send it her way.

  My phone reads that it’s almost nine-thirty in the morning, so I better head over to Barnabas’s to help him with his pie. I sent him a text before I left the party last night to see if he needed me to wait for him to catch a ride home, but he said Sophie could handle it. I felt relieved because I just wanted to go home. I’m not even sure why I was bothered about Monica interrupting the conversation with Kiev.

  When I leave my room and walk out into the living room, I find Dom finishing up on some eggs. “Can you let Dad know I’ll be at Barnabas’s?”

  “Yeah, I’ll let him know as soon as he gets out of the shower.” He points at the plate of bagels with cream cheese spread on top. “Here, take some of these to Barnabas’s. Actually, just take the whole plate—he has his little sisters there.”

  I grab the plate and head out the door, lifting one of the bagels to my mouth as I walk down the stairs to Barnabas’s place.

  Lifting my hand up, I knock on the door. Mrs. Lao answers wearing a nice pair of gray dress pants and a pale-pink blouse. “Hello, Lia. Barnabas still sleeping.” She flicks her wrist toward the back of the apartment where his room is.

  “Still? He told me to get here at nine-thirty to help him make the pie.” He’s usually up at least by eight because he doesn’t like to waste the day away.

  “You wake him up. I’m trying to get girls ready for him to watch. Mr. Lao needs me at restaurant.”

  “Okay, I’ll help watch the girls, too.” They’re pretty easy once you get them calmed down.

  “Thank you, Lia.” She lets out a relieved sigh.

  “We dressed.” Dara skips into the kitchen with her shirt on backward. Mrs. Lao leans down to help her twist it to the front.

  I set the plate of bagels on the kitchen table and then walk to find Channery already banging on Barnabas’s door when I reach it. I brush past her and open the door. Barnabas is lying on his stomach on top of the sheets with his arm dangling off the bed, still wearing the clothes from last night, minus the blazer. Well, thank God he has clothes on—I would have had to slam the door shut.

  “Barnabas,” I whisper and walk into the room. No response.

  Channery zooms past me and leaps onto Barnabas’s back and shakes him fiercely. “Wake up!” she barks.

  Dara runs into the room and gets right up into his ear. “Wakie, Wakie!”

  “Huh?” His eyes fly open, and he lifts his head and rotates it between the three of us like he doesn’t know what’s going on. “Water?”

  I’m not sure who he’s asking for water, but Channery hops from his back, and both girls hurry out from the room. “Are you all right?” I point my finger at him. “I think you might be sick.” His hair looks more matted than his normal silky shampoo-commercial hair.

  “No, not sick,” he grunts.

  Shuffling closer, I whisper ever so softly, “Did you go back to the party last night?”

  He closes his eyes for a minute, and then peers one open. “Yeah.”

  “Drunk?” He looks pretty hungover now that I’m really observing him. I don’t smell any alcohol on him, though.

  “No, I had one drink.”

  Channery and Dara both run back in the room, each holding a glass of water.

  “He wants my water, Dara,” Channery says proudly.

  “Nuh-Uh,” Dara responds.

  “We’ll each take a water. Thank you, ladies,” I say.

  Mrs. Lao pokes her head inside by the edge of the doorframe. “I will be back in little while.”

  “Okay, Ma.” Barnabas slowly sits up and rubs his head.

  “Look at you. No more sleeping in. Next
time I wake you at seven.” She waggles her finger at him.

  “Yeah, Ma.”

  Mrs. Lao hugs the girls and leaves for the restaurant. I kneel down to the girls and grab Dara’s water, while Channery hands the other one to her brother. “How about you girls go watch TV for a little while, maybe grab a bagel I brought from the table? When we start baking the pie you both can join in.” I smile.

  “Yay!” they both cheer and rush out of the room. Wow, they are ecstatic kids—TV isn’t that amazing.

  I whip back around to Barnabas. “A drink? You’re acting like you’re dead.”

  He finishes his water and sets it on his side table. Running a hand through his hair, he looks at me. “I don’t even know what it was I drank. I thought it was going to be like drinking a beer when the guy handed me a cup of Vodka.”

  I set my full cup of water beside Barnabas’s empty glass. “Come on, Barnabas, you knew that would be stronger than a beer. How did you get home?”

  “Sophie, but don’t worry, she didn’t even drink when we got back to the party.” He waves me off, like I’m a parent questioning a child. “I didn’t even plan on drinking, but after the incident with Vienna, I needed something.”

  “What happened with her?” She definitely shouldn’t have been at the party if she was going to get all emotional.

  Placing his index and middle fingers against his temples, Barnabas rubs them counterclockwise. “The entire car ride, Vienna was so upset about her life and repeated how she hated everyone. She told me she hated me I don’t even know how many times, but then when we pulled into the driveway, she kept crying and clinging onto me.

  “Sophie tried to help out, but Vienna kept telling her to fuck off. It got intense. Vienna seems to have a lot of stuff going on upstairs that she needs to figure out. I thought I would be able to handle her in that state, and I hate to say it, but I’m glad Sophie was there to finally calm her down and get her inside the house.”

  “I’m glad I didn’t have to be there for that.” Then I tell him about my incident with Kiev. Barnabas laughs, and then clenches his head because it must have made his head hurt. I leave out the part about my weirdness after Monica showed up, though.

  “Are we going to start this pie now or what?” I ask to get my thoughts away from Kiev.

  “Yeah,” Barnabas mumbles.

  I head into the living room and sit with the girls while Barnabas takes a quick shower. The girls are a little more relaxed with the cartoons going, their little heads shifting back and forth when music comes on during scenes.

  Stumbling into the kitchen, Barnabas crashes onto a seat at the table and takes a couple Ibuprofen.

  “I’m surprised your parents didn’t bust you last night,” I point out when I take a seat across from him in one of the wooden chairs.

  “They were already asleep at their usual ten o’clock.” Standing, he walks to the pantry, pulling out different ingredients, and sets them on the counter. Lastly, he grabs a plastic bag of apples and places it in the middle of the table. “Wanna peel some apples?”

  “Not really, but I will.”

  Barnabas slides on his pigs cooking bacon apron, which makes them seem like cannibals. I flick my wrist at him when he tries to hand me an apron.

  He splits the six apples between the two of us. I’m still on my first one, when he grabs the two left in my pile and finishes them up. Apparently, peeling an apple is a slow process for me, but he zooms right through them like those sheep shearers who are all superfast, even with a monster hangover.

  My phone beeps as I’m handing him my peeled apple to slice up.

  Sophie: I’m so over the Crow.

  Me: You don’t like the movie anymore?

  Sophie: No, the one who I said looked like the Crow.

  Me: What happened?

  Sophie: He has a crush on Vienna.

  Sighing in relief that she wasn’t dissing the actual Crow, I look up at Barnabas who is now working on putting the pie together with the crust he made the day before. I give him a grin like I know a new secret. It adds up—he said he had a lady in mind when I asked him about Sophie, and then he became all chivalrous last night when Vienna was drunk.

  “What?” he asks, head cocked to the side.

  I tap my phone. “So, I think I know who you have a crush on.”

  He tosses some more ingredients like he’s making a potion, pretending he didn’t hear me.

  “Vi-en-na,” I drawl.

  Groaning, he places his hands on the edge of the table. “You’re talking to Sophie, aren’t you?”

  “Yep.”

  “I seriously didn’t mean to say Vienna’s name when I kissed Sophie.”

  “What?” I shout.

  A hand flies up to the bridge of his nose, and he shakes his head before looking back up at me. “Wait. You didn’t know that?”

  “No! She basically said she isn’t interested in you anymore because you have a crush on Vienna. So, I guess you’re in the clear from Sophie now.”

  “Well…”

  I tap my fingers on the table at a rapid pace. “Well, what?”

  He tilts his head toward the ceiling. “I’m an idiot, a real idiot.” He pauses for a moment. “So … I did have a slight crush on Vienna before the party, all right?”

  “All right?”

  “But, I’ve never really talked to her. And … after last night, Vienna’s too much for me to handle. Sophie is more—laid-back.”

  “Are we talking about the same person here? Bouncy Sophie?” I do have to admit she is actually pretty decent.

  “Look, I know we all have some sort of issues, but she’s more drama free—and—funny.”

  I shoot an eyebrow up. “Proceed.”

  “Sophie asked if I wanted to go back to the party, and I said yeah—not thinking anything of it. I was standing there in the train terminal, listening to music while she was dancing around me—then we headed to a rail car and just talked for a while. I don’t know, but I was watching her staring out at the night sky, and I felt the need to pull her face to mine and kiss her. Then I said…” His whole face scrunches up. “Vienna instead of Sophie.”

  “Okay, Mr. Poet. Did you just maybe kiss her because you were, I don’t know, drunk?”

  “No, no, no,” he says hesitantly.

  “Easy fix. Clear the air.”

  “I don’t know. Apparently, I don’t know what I want if I can swap girls out overnight. I wouldn’t want to upset Sophie by doing something stupid again.”

  “Tough decisions, but I say talk to Sophie.”

  “Maybe after the pie contest.” He shrugs.

  Barnabas calls his sisters into the kitchen to help lattice the top of the pie with the bacon strips. Dara almost takes a bite of the uncooked slice when I grab her hand at the last second—don’t need any parasites feasting on her insides.

  After Barnabas places the pie in the oven, I hang around the apartment for pretty much the rest of the day when a text interrupts me.

  Dom: Can you pick up some more bacon at the store later?

  Me: For Dad’s contest?

  Dom: Yes! He’s getting a tad bit better, but there’s not much bacon left.

  Me: Will do.

  I set my phone down. “Barnabas, I gotta head out and go get some bacon for my dads.”

  “I’d come with you, but I still have to watch the girls until Ma gets home.” He glances at Channery and Dara, who are at the table eating Jell-O and getting it everywhere.

  “Okay, I’ll talk to you later.” When I stand to leave, the girls rush at me with their messy hands, both wrapping their arms around me in a hug. Barnabas has to pull them away, or they might stay like this forever.

  My phone beeps right before I get in the car.

  Dad: Wal-Mart’s hiring.

  Me: If that’s my last resort, I’ll take it.

  My dads and Mom both want me to find a part-time job since I’ll be graduating this year. So after the whole volunteer situation, I’m
going to get all heavy duty and look around. I’d rather die than work at Wal-Mart, though—not literally, but it would be rough.

  Thinking about Wal-Mart, makes me not want to go there today, so I climb into my car and head to the other grocery store the opposite way. I take a right down Windsor Drive and turn up the radio. I’m about halfway down the street when something darts out in front of me, and I slam on my brakes, moments away from running over it. Not a something, but an armadillo. With a … leash? I turn to my left and watch it finish scampering across the street.

  Then a guy frantically hauls butt past me, holding up his hand to stop. Well, I’m already stopped. What the hell? It’s Kiev, light-brown hair all flying everywhere.

  Slowly, I pull my car to the nearest curb and park. I step out and Kiev’s on the other side with the green leash now in hand, breathing hard.

  I stare in bewilderment. “That’s an armadillo.”

  He looks from the armadillo to me. “Yeah?”

  “You have an armadillo?” I ask in surprise.

  “Yeah.” He shrugs.

  “As a pet?”

  “Do you want me to say ‘yeah’ again?” He grins.

  “Is that even legal?” I may have to search that later and find out just for my benefit.

  “Sort of? No one’s ever said anything about him, though.”

  “All righty, then.”

  Kiev approaches me with the little creature happily crossing the remainder of the way, well, as happy as an armadillo can look.

  “I found him almost half dead and helped revive him. I tried to release him back in the wild, but he wouldn’t go.”

  “Well, he was sure running away from you just a second ago.”

  “No, Pepe just gets a little crazy when he sees a pile of leaves.”

  “Pepe?” I look across the street and sure enough, a pile of rustled leaves lay near the sidewalk.

  “The armadillo.” He looks down at the little animal, who now seems to be doing a little bounce in place.

  “I’m sorry. I’m in complete shock over the fact that you have one as a freaking pet.” My mouth stays partially open.

  “Thanks for not running him over, by the way. That seems to be the end for a lot of them.” Pepe scurries closer to Kiev’s foot, as if he knows about the catastrophe that comes to a lot of armadillos in the street life.