'In case you don't know, we've been texting for the past seven hours.' 638Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTgyHehGeUJ
I chuckled while reading Stella's message. Time doesn't fly when you're having fun, in fact, it remains the same. However, when you do something you enjoy, you're too enraptured in the moment that most other things seem irrelevant.
'I guess we've both been enjoying it.'
'So, we've discussed family, religion, sports, fashion. What next Ronald?'
'Sleep? We've both got church tomorrow.'
'Leave me alone. I'm a big girl.'
'As much as I enjoy talking to you, you should get some sleep.'
'Awwwn. He enjoys talking to me. Tell me about you, Ron.'
My hands hovered over the touchpad of my phone while my fatigued mind struggled in vain to find the words to describe myself. 'I'm quiet most of the time.'
'And shy too. You could barely look at me today.'
'It's not my fault you're that pretty.' My face lit up as I read my words aloud; flirting is a lot easier when the words are in black and white as opposed to nervous stutters. 'I think you'll have more fun finding about me for yourself. Besides, who doesn't like a little bit of mystery?'
'Mysterious eh? I look forward to finding out. Are you single?'
'I may be single till I die. I'm much too awkward for most people.'
'Haha. Me too. My love life is dead.'
'Mine isn't even alive yet. Most people have tales of past relationships and summer flings and I've got nothing to say.'
'That's cute.' Her words were accompanied by a huge, blushing emoji. 'You're all innocent and harmless. I've dated a couple of jerks; neither of them ended well.'
'So naive! Harmless teenage boys don't exist.' I stared at the screen for a while, watching as three little dots danced on the screen, waiting for a reply. 'Sorry about those two guys. Some guys can't even handle themselves, so no one can deal with their problems.'
An inward fascination with the fact that there was a chance for me set my mind abuzz and as the clock ticked on and fatigue grew, the idea continued to brighten my thoughts. My eyes squinted, stung by the dim light of my phone screen, and begged to put out of their misery, however, the conversation was much too gripping.
'Yeah, you're right.'
'Stella, what makes you tick?'
'Ron !!!' The exclamation marks that accompanied my name seemed to convey her bubbly persona in them and I could imagine her lips caressing the letters of my name. 'It will be more fun if you find out for yourself. Besides,' I could imagine that she smirked as she typed her reply, 'who doesn't like a little mystery?'
I jerked forward in laughter, holding my sides to prevent myself from falling off my bed. The patterns on the ceiling looked the same to my tired eyes, the little dots seemed to converge to form one big hole.
'Stella, it's 1 a.m. My eyes are burning and church starts at 8:30. So, I'm going to bed now.'
'Goodnight, Ron.'
My head fell onto the pillow and I released my grasp on the phone, allowing the sandman to bring sweet relief to my eyes.
Shit! I jerked up from my bed, bewildered and hysteric. The sleep carried me, just like a pebble drifts in a rushing stream, and I woke up feeling lost. The clock that hung on the wall seemed to be taunting me as the short -hand and long-hand moved in perfect harmony. 11 a.m.
I rushed into the bathroom with one thought on my mind, I'm dead. Few offences are more severe than missing church in my house. I stared at the mirror and could scarcely believe the image I saw staring back at me.
Dried saliva, bloodshot eyes and scattered hair, I looked a complete mess. My hands, although they felt like jelly, managed to open the lid of the mouthwash container and I gargled the minty, peppery liquid. It stung my tongue but it was the only thing strong enough to remedy my morning breath. Sometimes, sleeping leaves you worse off.
Vapour from the hot water filled the room and my clothes slowly fell to the floor. I took a few moments to gaze admiringly at my body, nodding approvingly at the bulging muscles of my biceps and the newly acquired six-pack on my abdomen. Puberty, a miraculous yet awkward process, left me with broader shoulders, a deeper voice and tiny strands of hair hanging from the underside of my chin-- marking my transformation from scrawny kid to fully grown man, well almost.
I ran my hand through my, recently-shaven, dark hair and watched as tiny strands fell to the floor before splashing cold water on my face. I hurried into the shower, allowing the hot water to soothe my body, paying special attention to my face.
A small scar, an indelible reminder of my colorful childhood visits to the hospital as a klutzy four year old, in the middle of my forehead and another one on my nose tainted my slightly handsome face.
"Ron, are you up yet?" A door creaked open and Tony's voice filled the air and soon I could hear footsteps slowly make their way up the stairs. "You missed church because you were sleeping like a dead man. Even dad's voice couldn't wake you up."
Water dripped down my wet head and I grabbed a towel, wrapping it firmly around my waist. "Just a moment, Tony. I just finished taking a shower."
"No problem."
"Tony," I called out before he had a chance to leave. "Open my wardrobe and bring out the first shirt and pants that you see, perhaps you can also help me with a pair of boxers too."
"You should use some lotion first, Ron," he remarked. "You know that dark skin like yours looks pale and scaly when it's dry."
"True," I said, stretching my hand out the door to collect the clothes from his hand, "but it's summer."
After putting on some clothes, a pair of blue jeans and a black T- shirt, I rushed down the stairs while composing an explanation in my mind.
Dad, I slept like a log because I wore myself out by talking to this insanely interesting girl, simply wouldn't be a good enough excuse. I could almost feel my mother's withering gaze and my father's condescending words giving me a dressing down.
"Good afternoon, Ron." Trevor held his hand up, requesting a high-five and I duly obliged, however, my mind and my eyes were fixed on the door and soon enough, it opened.
My father, dressed in a smart suit and tie, walked in first and my mother trailed closely behind him. She wore a stunning, yet simple, red dress and clutched a small purse, made of the same shade of red, in her hand.
"Ron." My father, a 5"9 like me, stared into my deep dark eyes with dark eyes of his own before patting my shoulder lightly. "Are you feeling alright?"
"Errrm..." I stuttered, willing words to come out of my mouth but my tongue refused to cooperate. "I'm... I'm feeling better now." My mum moved towards me, placing her hands on my neck to gauge my temperature.
"His body is warm. I'll go and check if I have some aspirin." She handed her purse to Trevor and walked off, leaving me to stare in astonishment.
Where is all the screaming? What just happened?
"You know--" My father's deep voice rung in my ears. "-- We don't tolerate missing church but what better day than Sunday for a miracle. You got off easy, Ronald. Don't let it happen again."
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