“I bet,” I said.
She patted my hand. “You are a sweet boy, Paul. I can tell.”
“I try.”
“I still have all of Roby’s baby clothes, if you’d like to see?”
“And we’re out,” Roby said. He planted his palms on his thighs and stood up.
“Thanks for the snack, Mrs. Smalls,” I said. “Maybe I can see Roby’s baby clothes next time?”
“That sounds lovely,” said Mrs. Smalls.
Roby shot me a look of death. I smiled sweetly, like the sweet boy I am.
I followed him to the basement, which was bigger than my entire house. Sunlight streamed in from tall windows, so it didn’t feel subterranean the way lots of basements do, and unlike my pit of a room, it was spotless. Ants wouldn’t stand a chance here.
At the far end of the basement was a wet bar, in the center was a pool table, and mounted on the wall was an enormous flat-screen TV. Multiple game consoles were arranged on a coffee table, and behind the coffee table was a set of gaming chairs. They were made of leather, and they tilted back with a gentle whirring sound to become recliners, complete with pop-out footrests. Cup holders were built into the arms. There were removable pillows for the headrests. Each chair had a seat warmer as well as a seat cooler, and there was a dial for adjusting lumbar support.
“GTA 5?” Roby asked. “Or are you more of a Fortnite man?”
“Fortnite,” I said. “No, GTA 5. Either.” I was enraptured with my chair, jabbing buttons and experimenting with different temperatures. “Roby. These chairs.”
“Yeah, they’re nice.”
“Nice?” I raised my footrest higher and wiggled my toes. “I could live in one of these babies.”
“You don’t say.”
“We should room together at college and bring these to our dorm room. No, these can be our college dorm rooms.”
“Hey, Paul?”
“Yeah?”
He hefted his ass from his seat and farted, and I bucked and pedaled my legs.
“Dude, that is so wrong.”
Roby cracked up. What he lacks in size, he makes up for in stench.
“I’ve changed my mind,” I said, gagging. “Not rooming with you. I’m kicking you off the island, bruh.”
The air cleared. Eventually. We played GTA 5 and talked about random stuff. I reinstated him as my future roommate.
The next week, Roby came to my house and we did it all again, although we set up shop in our unfancy main-level TV room and subbed out Perrier and cashews for Coke and Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. Mom caught me wiping my fingers on the sofa and exclaimed, “Paul! That is not a napkin! That is a sofa!”
I jumped. “You weren’t supposed to see that!”
Mom introduced herself to Roby. They both said “nice to meet you” and stuff like that. Then she returned her attention to me.
“‘You weren’t supposed to see that’?” she said. “You’re as bad as you were at three, when you’d tell me to look away so you could steal a cookie. ‘Don’t look, Mom! Whatever you do, don’t look over here!’”
“I wanted to protect you from seeing your son do something that could make you sad. Then and now.”
“You didn’t want to get caught.”
“Mom, please. I am a sensitive boy.”
Mom gestured at the TV. “And yet you’re perfectly happy to stab people and drop bombs on them and blow them up?”
On the screen, I was consumed by lava and died a fiery death.
“Do you see what you’ve done, Mother?” I lamented.
Roby laughed.
Mom ruffled my hair and left us to it.
The first weekend of summer, Mom took Roby and me to Sliding Rock, a huge boulder in the middle of a river that people like to slide down. Technically it’s a waterfall, but it’s more like nature’s version of a Slip ’N Slide, and anyone who claims that fourteen-year-olds are too old to enjoy it is dead wrong. Sliding Rock is one of life’s timeless pleasures.
Mom dropped us off in the parking lot. “I’ll pick you up in two hours,” she said through her rolled-down window. “Sound Gucci?”
I winced. “Ouch. Mother. Don’t ever say that again.”
“That I’ll pick you up?”
“Yeah, no, the other bit.”
“Thanks for the ride,” Roby said. “And you can say ‘Gucci.’ It’s no big deal.”
“Why, thank you,” Mom said. “Time for me to skirt.”
“Mom,” I warned.
She drew her elbows to her sides and swished them jauntily back and forth. Maybe she was seat-dancing? “I’m going skirt on out of here, whoop-whoop!”
“This is why old people shouldn’t use slang,” I told Roby. I started for the path that led to the falls.
“Kk, boys,” Mom said. “Have fun, be safe, don’t do drugs!”
“Only lollipops, and only if a nice man offers them to us!” I called over my shoulder.
Roby jogged to catch up with me. “Your mom’s funny.”
I grunted.
“And hot.”
I side-eyed him. “Dude. Uncool.”
“You mean un-Gucci?”
I punched his shoulder. He clutched his arm as if he were dying, except he was laughing.
Was Mom hot? Possibly. Probably, to an old person. She had straight blond hair, medium-longish. She wore cut-offs and tank tops, and I guess she looked good in them. But mainly, she was nice. She smiled a lot. People liked her.
Even if Mom was pretty, it didn’t need to be said out loud.
There was a line of people waiting to slide down the rock. Some were little kids, and when it was their turn, they walked carefully to the far right side of the rock, where just a trickle of water flowed down. Then they scooted inch by inch to the bottom, squealing all the way. Everyone else chose the middle of the rock, where the water flowed medium-fast, or the far left side of the rock, where the water roared down in frothy torrents. If you took the fast track, there was a crater you had to watch out for midway down. It hurt like hell if you hit it wrong.
The girl in front of Roby and me moved up in line. She wore a red bikini, and she was already tan even though it was only June. She was our age or maybe slightly older, and she — in all the right ways — was the definition of hot.
Roby caught my eye. I gave a slight nod. Yes, absolutely.
The girl chose the medium-fast path, sliding down and landing with a splash in the pool at the bottom. She came up gasping and swam swiftly to the shallow end. When she stood, water streamed over her tits, which were round and bouncy.
What is it about the bounciness of a girl’s tits that makes it so hard to look away? Other things are bouncy, like water balloons. I have no problem looking away from water balloons.
The girl climbed out of the water, losing her balance a couple of times and having to right herself. She was gorgeous. Her tits were gorgeous. I imagined cupping them and jiggling them and enjoying their bounciness fully.
“Your turn, man,” said a guy behind us. He jerked his chin at Roby, who in turn jerked his chin at me.
“You can go first,” he offered.
“I’m good,” I said.