In Summer We Started

3.

Luca

I stormed to my motorcycle, still furious at the owner of the bakery. On the outside, I saw how one could have easily misinterpreted what went on-how she'd easily misinterpreted it, as me being troublesome, but in all honesty, I wasn't. Far from it. Just an hour or so ago, my aunt had sent me on an errand to get some cake for her from the bakery. I hadn't wanted to go in the first place, but I knew what awaited me if I didn't. Trouble. On getting to the bakery, I discovered they had only a cake left in the glass showcase. I was already on the verge of paying for it, when an old lady showed up, claiming she wanted the cake and was craving it. Who craves cake these days? Just cake! Nothing else!

All this while, I'd been waiting for the owner to get it packaged so I could take it home, but instead, she'd handed it over to the old lady, begging me to wait while she baked another one. Bullshit! I deserved that piece of cake, and not some lady who just came from nowhere to lay her claim. The argument had almost resulted in a fight when the old lady walked out, with the cake clutched in a white paper bag. Just then, the girl stepped in, looking all lost like a puppy who'd strayed far away from home. I clenched my fist, deciding this wasn't the right time for drama-drama that the owner herself had already started. I would have gone someplace else, and been back before the sunset, but my aunt had specifically wanted a cake from here, making me go through hell. I tried to reason with the owner, telling her she shouldn't have done that, and it wasn't right, and that was when she flipped, pulling the f word on me. I was livid at her.

But, the girl who'd just stepped in, bright-eyed and curious, seemed to be watching me closely. I tried to contain myself under her watchful gaze, catching her forest green eyes out of my line of sight. She looked nineteen, or thereabout-average height, with tanned skin, and a red headband, pushing her thick mass of dark brown curls back. There was just something about her, something even I couldn't define. She was new, a fresh face. I clipped my headgear over my head, throwing a leg over the seat of my motorcycle. When I turned back, I saw the girl still standing there, watching me through those double doors, a scowl maring her pretty features. Didn't she have something better to do-other than to silently judge me? I knew well enough she was judging me. It had shown in the glint in her eyes, the way a muscle throbbed in her chin as if fighting back her irritation. It pissed me off that a stranger could think that way of me. I could only imagine what the owner had said to her. With her blunt, fat nose and crooked smile. I didn't want to have to return to this place.

The engine of my motorcycle roared as I turned the keys, and sped straight home, trying to ignore thoughts of the new girl. I concentrated on how my surroundings seemed to light up as I drove by. The flowers, which I had noticed, were now in full bloom. The sun shone fiercely in the blue sky, scorching the top of my helmet. I could feel the sun on my back. Summer was here, and I wasn't sure I was ready. Last summer was depressing. My parents had clearly stated that they wanted nothing to do with me, and I was heartbroken. Since then, I'd had to live with my aunt, who didn't give two f***s about me. By the time I arrived home, it was already late, as the trip from the bakery to my aunt's house was quite distant, almost like the journey from one state to another. I took off my helmet and sat staring at the sprawling two-story building I had come to know over the past year. There wasn't anything special about it. The building had been painted a drab gray, and it had a small fence surrounding it. Protection from the public eyes. I hated this place and every fiber of my being screamed "run" as I got down from my motorcycle. The motorcycle had been a gift from a close friend back at home before we parted. It was the only gift I'd ever received.

I didn't bother knocking before I entered as if I knew my aunt was home. Her new boyfriend was home too. He was a big burly man with dirty blonde hair, and he had this stone face as if a smile had never crossed his lips. I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't smile. And I didn't like this man, either. He was settled on the blue couch with my aunt, a can of beer cracked open on the small table. There were several empty cans on the floor, which suggested he'd been here for a while. Was that why she was telling me to get her a cake? To present it to her new visitor? I cleared my throat, announcing my presence. The whole room reeked of stale smoke, and sour breath, making me gag. I inhaled deeply, willing myself not to vomit.

"Oh, you're back. Where's what I asked?" My aunt c****d her head at me, a lit cigarette dangling between her thumb and forefinger. She always smokes whenever she has any of her boyfriends over.

I winced, looking down at the floor. "I didn't get it."

Before my aunt could speak up, her new boyfriend asked, his eyes flicking over me with disinterest. "Is he your son?" My aunt didn't reply immediately. She looked at me again, carefully studying me as if I was just some stranger. Then, she lifted the cigarette to her dark lips and took a slow drag.

"I can never give birth to such a human being. Does he look like my son to you?"

The boyfriend shrugged, reaching out a hand to grasp his beer. I noticed his hands shook slightly. "I mean, he has your almond-shaped eyes."

"Oh, come off it," my aunt said, waving a hand in front of her face to ward off the smoke swirling past her lips. She sounded angry for him to have suggested something like that. Arranging the handle of her thin dress, which exposed the top of her shoulder, and showed pale skin, she asked again, "Did you get what I requested?"

The way she said it was as if she didn't want her boyfriend to know, and I did a double-take on my earlier presumption. Maybe the cake wasn't for him. Maybe it was for her. But, I didn't care. My aunt's words stung me. I couldn't believe she'd say something as harsh as that to a stranger. What would he be thinking of me now? "No," I replied, and proceeded to relate the incident at the bakery to her. All the while, she listened calmly, smoking her cigarette. But, I knew a storm was brewing in the back of her head. Her face had clouded over with an expression I couldn't read. Even her boyfriend saw it and patted her arm.

"So...?" She asked, cutting me short.

"So, I already told you. The old lady took the cake and left. You're beginning to piss me off now. Haven't you been listening..." Before I could finish the sentence, she threw a bottle at me, stunning me to silence. I staggered backward, seeing bright stars.

"You're a useless child. A good for nothing. How dare you talk back to me? No wonder your parents abandoned you," she spat, venom lacing her tone. I held a hand to my jaw, where the bottle had landed, tasting the metallic stench of blood on my tongue. I hoped I hadn't broken a bone. It hurt so bad.

"Can you imagine the insult?" She turned to her boyfriend, who was sprawled, watching the s**t show.

"It's alright. He's just a young boy."

"I'm not a f*****g young boy and get the hell out. This isn't your house," I screamed. My aunt threw another bottle, but this time, my reflex worked fast, missing the hit. There was a crazed look in her eyes, and she frowned at me. I was done for.

"What did you just do?" She asked because I'd never defiled her before. The slaps and hitting have now become so regular she hadn't expected this to happen.

"I did what you couldn't do. Stop bringing craps to the house. And they're ugly. All of them," I muttered, but she was too enraged to listen. She threw another bottle which hit my head since I wasn't fast enough to dodge it. She stood back, surveying her handwork. Her nostrils flared.

"Good. You're so useless. You should be the one getting the hell out. You're a piece of smelly trash," she said and kicked my legs. I winced, hurt as I tried to keep my eyes open. My eyes burned with unshed tears and I willed myself to get up and out the door, but I could barely even stand. I heard my aunt settle back in the comfort of her lover, and I whimpered, trying to get my legs to function. They were shaky and trembled as I stood, leaning on the wall for support. My head was banging and I couldn't see clearly.

In-between kisses and moans, my aunt pulled away to say, "The trash is still in the kitchen where you left it. Take it out with you, you stinky, worthless shit." I swallowed against the bulge in my throat, reaching a finger to touch the swell under my eyes. The weight of it made me groan, and tears gushed out from my eyes. I limped my way to the kitchen, which was a little off the corner, and I had to rest on the wall to breathe in. I didn't know what I did to deserve this hate from my aunt. Was it just the cake, or had she had it out for me for staying out this long? Where was I even going to go? All these thoughts encircled my head, buzzing like the flies hanging around the trash bag. My nose stiffened as the odor hit me. I nearly fainted. The plate had been piled with both clean and unwashed dishes. It hurt to see. My aunt wanted me to be miserable. Well, her plan had worked. I fell on my knees and attempted to pack the trash in another trash bag when my aunt shouted for me to hurry.

I hissed, my head aching from the bruises she'd inflicted on me. The one from before was still healing, and it hadn't been long. Now... there's another. As soon as I was done packaging the bag, I stood, my head reeling from the excruciating pain. I couldn't lift the trash so I dragged it behind me until I got to where my aunt was seated. She shot me a dark look and I raised it above my head and walked the rest of the way to the front door. I dropped it on the porch and closed the door behind me, thinking about how I was going to transport it to the trash can beside the street. It was dark, and even though there was not a single moon in sight, the heat was stifling. This was the worst summer ever and it was only beginning. I wondered what was going to happen another time. My reserved energy was used to swat the flies away as I dropped the bag into the big trash can. My back almost gave way from the strain. Angry and sad, I slumped on the doormat, with my body battered, and waited for sleep to take me.