Pause

by CJ Adler

  The doorbell rings, interrupting us. I bound down the stairs and answer the door, aware of who it is.

  Jay, styling his wet hair with his fingers after having had a quick shower, walks down the stairs and joins my side before looking up to see the couple. “Hey, guys?” he greets, puzzled by their presence. His house has become the house where everybody seems to land up at, which is probably my fault.

  “Want to explain to me why they're here? Aren't we supposed to be mad at them? Or are we past that?” Jay babbles on in bewilderment. “I can't keep up with your emotions . You're like a roller coaster. It's quite a ride but very stressful at the same time.”

  I hold back a smile and frown instead. “We are mad at them!” I whisper- hiss at him. “They're here for payback. It's slavery of the sinners.”

  He raises an eyebrow in query. “I'm sorry, slavery of the what?”

  ***

  “You two look so cute and cozy right now!” Bells chirps, elated.

  She's supposed to be all moody and down in the dumps like Max is. This is payback. She isn't supposed to be enjoying this. If anything, we're the ones suffering.

  She's reacting like this just because I snuggled up against Jay under the thick, fuzzy blanket—a blanket we forced Bells to bring us. She and Max are taking care of us sicklings as payback and I intend on making both their lives hell.

  “Mhmm,” Jay mumbles, flashing one of his usual grins before he subtly stretches and lays his arm across the back of my shoulders, tugging me to his side. My heart does a little jolt at his movement. He, on the other hand, gives a small, satisfied smirk at having me closer to him. “So cozy,” he agrees with Bells, sending me a boyish smile.

  “I can't wait until you two get married and have like a gazillion babies!” Bells says, clapping her hands in enthusiasm.

  Jay ends up coughing at the reference to 'marriage' and 'babies' seeing as we've literally just started dating. “What is happening right now?” he asks me as he looks over at Bell with worry. He genuinely thinks she's gone crazy. He doesn't know her well enough to know that this is just Bells being Bells.

  It's Max who hears and answers Jay, “I'll tell you what's happening right now, hell!”

  “Oh, don't be so dramatic, Maxipad,” I shush him, brushing off his complaints.

  He glowers down at me. “You sent me back ten times because I didn't fluff your pillow up enough.”

  My eyes drift to the fluffed up pillow in his hands as I raise a skeptical eyebrow at him. “So, is it fluffed up enough now?” I have the audacity to ask.

  He glares at me in response. “I'll fluff you up, woman!” he yells at me before throwing the pillow directly at my face.

  Fortunately, Jay acts on quick reflexes and catches the pillow before it can hit me square in the face. Max is not impressed—he so wanted that pillow to hit me.

  I smile gratefully at Jay before turning my attention back to Max. “Now now, Maxi, pipe down and fetch me some hot chocolate,” I command, regretting nothing. “And make it snappy! Chop-chop!” I add as an afterthought, clicking my fingers with attitude as if he truly is my slave.

  Max sends me a lingering scowl but complies nonetheless as he heads back to the kitchen to do as told. Bells follows after him in order to give him a hand.

  Jay leans into me in an attempt to get closer but groans in disappointment when Oog and Slobber wedge themselves in between us, separating us from each other. He sighs aloud, overdramatic, as if to capture my attention.

  I snap my gaze back to him with a smile etched onto my lips. “What's the matter, JJ?”

  “It feels like I have to compete with them.”

  A genuine smile flickers across my lips as I open my mouth to reply, except, Max rudely interrupts before I can say anything. “Here!” he snaps at me, handing me my hot chocolate just as Bells hands Jay his.

  I glance down at the hot chocolate. “Where are my marshmallows? Who doesn't add marshmallows to hot chocolate?” I ask, purposely being difficult. I send the hot chocolate back with Max like I'd done with the pillow.

  It's not long before Max returns with a steaming mug of hot chocolate. This time, there're pink marshmallows floating in the hot chocolate. I hand the mug back to Max with a glare. “I don't like the pink marshmallows.”

  “Aqueela,” Bells gives me a deadpanned glare on Max's behalf, “you can't even taste the difference between the two.”

  “I can too!” I defend myself, blatantly lying.

  Max's right eye twitches as he stares me down in irritation. “I hate you.”

  Isn't that Grey's line?

  I shrug, uncaring. “Yeah, well, I hate melted marshmallows,” I state, pointing to the flat, pink marshmallows floating in my hot chocolate. “You don't see me whining about it.”

  “You are whining about it and you asked for marshmallows in your hot chocolate. Obviously, the marshmallows would melt, Einstein!” Max argues back before throwing a marshmallow at me—Oog and Slobber end up fighting over it.

  “What's your deal with throwing things, Maxi? It's not going to solve your problems.”

  “You're my problem. Maybe I should just throw you out. That will solve everything,” he suggests boldly, a daring glint to his brown eyes as he offers me a condescending smile.

  “Firstly, you can't throw me out of my own house. Secondly, you can try but Jay won't stand for it.” I glance sideways at Jay. “Right, Jay?” I say, wanting his support on the matter.

  Jay rubs at his chin, feigning contemplation, as he purposely pauses to build up suspense. “Well, it's my house so…” he drawls and shrugs as if taking Max's side on this one.

  Max smirks at me in delight, convinced that he's won.

  “Jay.” I frown, sending him a flat stare.

  His solemn expression fades behind his rare, easy-going smile as a laugh escapes him. He angles his face my way and places a soft kiss against the side of my head as he finally answers me. “Never.”

  Chapter 46

  You're Dead

  I glance down at my work of art, quite impressed with myself. I should be an artist, the modern Leonardo da Vinci at that. Even he can't compete with such flawless work. I'm just too skilled, too talented, but I need to add one final touch.

  I glance around in search for the magical green crayon but it's vanished. I turn and give the guilty culprit a glare. “Oog!” I whine as he chomps down on the dark green crayon, thoroughly enjoying himself. He chews and swallows the crayon shaving, always resorting to eating my crayons when bored.

  “What did I say about eating the crayons I use?” I complain as Oog gives me his famous puppy dog eyes, genuinely sorry. Damn him! I can't resist him when he looks up at me with those adorable yellow, beady eyes of his. “If you want the wax then eat the ugly colors like yellow and orange. Don't touch green and blue.”

  He's more skilled at doing puppy eyes than Slobs.

  I smile, having a backup idea in mind. I turn to look for the blue crayon. Just like the green crayon, I'm unable to find the blue crayon. “Oog,” I warn in a dangerously low voice.

  He yelps and points at Slobber accusingly. I glance at the mischievous puppy to see him chewing on the blue crayon. “Slobber!” I shout, taking the bits of blue crayon away from him before he can get sick.

  It's only been a few days and Slobber has already learned from Oog's rebellious ways. Oog has corrupted my precious angel.

  “You two—” I glance between Slobber and Oog, “—ate my best colors.”

  Both of them cock their heads to the side simultaneously and watch me with their big eyes as if genuinely remorseful.

  Just then, the front door opens as Jay returns from his shift at the bar despite having just recovered from being sick. It's Sunday today. It only took him a single day to recover while I, on the other hand, am still not feeling one-hundred percent.

  I watch him as he shrugs off his leather jacket and places his keys on the kitchen counter, barely stifling a yawn, truly exhausted. I jump up i
n excitement and run toward him with open arms “Jay!”

  He opens his arms just in time. I collide right into him. He staggers back with the impact while I embrace the life out of him. “I missed you!” I exclaim in pure giddiness.

  His strong arms wrap around me, steadying me in the process, as he returns my embrace. “Jeez. With the way you're reacting, you'd think I've been gone a century,” he jokes.

  I ignore him, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. He closes his eyes for a brief second before dipping his head as if to kiss me properly, but I quickly pull away with a devious smile intact. “I need you to run to the store and buy me more crayons,” I tell him, my way of bribing him.

  He raises both eyebrows at me in surprise. “Well, that's definitely a demand from you that I did not see coming…when really I should've.” He pauses in realization. “Did you just pull away from me to bribe me into getting you crayons?”

  Maybe.

  “Jay, I finally found my true calling in life!” I elaborate, over-zealous as I change the subject.

  “Oh, yeah?” he asks with a grin, genuinely intrigued as he shares in my happiness. “And what would that be?” He humors me.

  “An artist, of course! Well, anything really since I've learned that I'm capable of absolutely everything, but mostly an artist!” I clap my hands jovially before handing him my fantastic page of work.

  Jay eagerly takes the page from my hands before he eyes my work rather skeptically. I wait in anticipation for him to say something as he glances from me to the page, the page to me, back and forth as if trying to make the connection. Finally, he clears his throat, coughing awkwardly as if truly uncomfortable, “Aqueela…” he trails off hesitantly, “you're aware that this is a page out of a coloring book, right?”

  “Yup!” I nod happily. “So?”

  “So—” he wavers, unsure and a little dumbfounded as he takes in my expression, “—so it's freaken fantastic!” He concludes, his words bringing forth a massive smile to my lips.

  I jolt right back up into his arms and hug him again, causing him to chuckle against me. I pull away to look at him, my eyes taking in his guilty expression. I lift an eyebrow, suspicious. “You're being honest, right?”

  He pauses cautiously before quickly swallowing and nodding. “You can do anything you dream of. I know you can.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper, hearing the front door open but too busy being proud of what I've accomplished to care.

  Someone clicks their tongue in disbelief. I look up to find myself staring into his dark, gray eyes. I scowl at his presence and glance back at Jay in accusation, stepping away from him completely as if he'd just betrayed me. “You never informed me that the devil was planning to pay us a visit in our humble abode.”

  “Jay's humble abode,” Grey corrects with a taunting smirk. “And hello to you too, Lawson.” He grins, clearly feeling like he has the upper hand for once. “What hole did you crawl out of this time? Was it the very pits of hell?”

  I glower up at him, annoyed at him for interrupting my time with Jay.

  He turns to Jay with a condescending smirk and snatches the glorious page out of Jay's hands before looking at it. He bursts out laughing and then turns to face me. “Seriously?” he asks, holding up the page in front of me. “This is what you've been doing the entire day?”

  I nod. “I know right. It took me the entire day. Jay loves it.”

  Grey furrows his eyebrows in confusion, and what seems to be distaste, as he turns to Jay for an explanation.

  Jay merely shrugs, refusing to defend himself.

  Grey rolls his eyes at Jay as if having figured him out. He turns back to me with a dead set frown in place. “Lawson, this is crap! I'm just being honest. This—” he flays the paper before my eyes, “—is just terrible and downright pathetic. A kid in kindergarten could do a better job. At least, they can color inside of the lines,” he blatantly insults my work.

  My mouth falls agape at his sucky opinion. I angrily cross my arms over my chest in true defiance. “I only went out of the line like five times.” I pout, genuinely offended by his unnecessary comments. “Besides, art is art.”

  He laughs at this as if what I just said is funny. It's odd hearing him laugh, though it makes sense seeing as he is openly mocking my skills.

  “You chose the simplest picture in the entire coloring book. An apple, Aqueela, really?” he questions, being very rude about the entire situation. He picks up the coloring book and scans the rest of the pictures, flipping through all the pages.

  “Why didn't you go for this guy skiing down the mountain instead?” I frown. “Too complex.”

  “I swear, you're like a two-year-old on crack trapped inside a knockout body,” he says, his compliments even being insults. I glare at him for what he'd just insinuated and so does Jay. As a result, he's quick to change the subject. “Since when are apples blue?”

  I glower at him. “Jay thinks that my work is as good as that of a famous artist. It's flawless, magnificent even.”

  Grey head snaps in Jay's direction, disbelief spattered all across his face. “You told her that?” he asks Jay, seemingly shocked. “You might as well have just told her that she can go skydiving without a parachute and still survive.”

  Jay sighs and scratches the back of his neck, sheepish. “Well… I didn't exactly say that.”

  Grey shakes his head. “You've gone soft. You're weak, man, weak!” he snaps at Jay before ripping my coloring page in half.

  “Hey!” I shout at him and hit him upside the head in pure rage. “I'll make you see dead people! Don't test me!”

  Grey merely pushes me away as if I'm nothing but a measly fly. “If you want to be an artist, then don't start your career from a children’s coloring book — or any damn coloring book for that matter! It's unoriginal and idiotic. I'm helping you in the long run.”

  “You're here for the long run?” I ask, frantic. “Well—” I place my hands on my hips in fury, “—that's just great! I might as well die now.”

  He, as predicted , ignores me and turns back to Jay. “You've turned into this giant sap of mush who can 't even look her in the eye and tell her the truth anymore. You'll say anything to please her. It nauseates me. Man up.”

  “Oog, I told you to ask me for food if you're hungry,” Jay mutters, barely listening to Grey. He turns to me with a reprimanding stare. “Stop encouraging them to eat crayons,” he says, gesturing to Slobber and Oog chomping away again.

  “Oog no eat crayola!” Oog lies, his teeth stained in different colors.

  “You're a walking rainbow right now,” Jay points out, motioning to his teeth.

  “But he likes the yellow ones!” I protest, siding with my boys. “If he's really hungry, I made food. I'm not sure what it is but it's food.”

  “That's okay. I bought real food. Pizza,” he replies back calmly.

  “You can't have pizza every night, boyfriend,” I argue seeing as he's bought pizza for two nights in a row now. “Besides, you'll get fat.” I prefer to admire Jay's abs, not his flab.

  “Well, girlfriend, I can't have food poisoning every night either,” he reminds me of the last incident where I forced him to eat the food that I had made.

  I sigh in defeat. “That was one time.”

  “Don't worry, my mind is still set on you, lack of skill and all,” he teases, blowing me a kiss before yanking Oog to the other side of the kitchen in order to give him real food, concerned, as usual, about the needs of others.

  “You know,” I tell Grey a few seconds later, “I also draw. Now you can't say that that's unoriginal.” I pick up the drawing off of the kitchen table and hand it to him.

  Grey takes the page and raises his right eyebrow in bewilderment. “What am I looking at right now?” he asks, confused. “Am I looking at it upside down or something?”

  “No, you dimwit! It's a drawing of you and Jay at the race grounds. See,” I answer, pointing to Grey, Jay and the car I drew for each of them.
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  He frowns. “Why am I riding a slug? And is Jay's car eating him?”

  Jay returns after having fed my two munchkins. He sees our expressions and sighs. “What now?”

  Grey hands him the page with a shake of his head as if more disappointed in me than usual.

  “Why am I looking at a picture of a slug being hit by a meteorite?” Jay asks, genuinely lost.

  “That meteorite is apparently me,” Grey informs him. “And that slug is my car.”

  Jay quickly realizes his mistake and looks back to me, seeking approval and forgiveness. “Totally knew that,” he lies, trying to reassure me otherwise.

  “My hair isn't that spiky, is it?” Grey suddenly asks from out of the blue as he tries to flatten his natural spikes, but to no avail.

  I hold back a laugh at his insecure actions.

  Jay glances from Grey and then to my drawing before shrugging. “That might be the only accurate part of the drawing.” I shoot him a glare. “How dare you?!”

  “Aww, come on, Aqueela, you made him look like a 'Super Saiyan',” he retorts, defending Grey this time 'round.

  I stomp my foot in anger. “So, you lied earlier, didn't you?” I ask, wanting to hear him admit to it.

  His expression softens a notch as he wraps an arm around my shoulders, forcing me to his side before playfully stroking my hair with his fingertips. “Let's just say that I think there are many more options for you out there other than art.”

  Not falling for his charm, I smack him on the chest. “Try harder.” He chuckles, amused. “What? I was trying to be indirect.”

  I keep my frown fixated on him.

  “C'mon,” he grins, genuine, “you know I still won't settle for anyone else even if they can do art. It's you or nothing.”

  “If you really feel that way then you won't mind me—”

  “You're not cloning yourself, Aqueela,” he cuts me off, knowing me all too well. “We've spoken about this before. The world can't handle more Aqueelas. I would thrive but Grey and many others would die.”