Patrick Peterson entered by the front of his building and, as soon as he opened the door heard a high pitched scream. Chloe McLeod, he assumed, as he began to climb up to the third and top floor of the three flat. He couldn’t tell if it was a scream of joy, fear or pain, so he listened for the sound of an adult. That came when her grandmother ‘hushed’ her. School would begin again on Monday, now that the shelter-in-place was over. Then the kids would be out for the summer and the building would be loud again. For that matter, the whole town would probably be jumping.
He’d almost stopped in Perkatory, but as he passed it, it seemed like half of Alexandra was in there, so he’d passed it by. Patrick wasn’t sure if the streets felt congested because everyone was out and about now that they could be, or if it was just him somehow. He corrected himself as he reached the top landing. Not everyone. It just seemed like it.
Unlocking the front door, he entered, closed the door and locked it behind himself. He was on his 48 hours off and had been looking forward to some time off in front of the screen. Maybe playing a game … action or horror … or survival horror. But now that he didn’t HAVE to stay home, he thought he should go out. As usual he was indecisive and just loitered in the entryway, trying to remember if Chris had to work that day or not. It was enough to try and keep up with his own schedule, never mind the schedule of his twin brother.
Chris was off work and at home in the kitchen chopping vegetables on a cutting board with a soup pot nearby full of water covering some lentils at the bottom. He heard a scream from one of the McLeod girls and chuckled. Delightful and wild, just as children should be. He slid his diced onions into the soup pot and started on the celery. There was a pot of coffee still on from when he got up and he was pretty sure Patrick would be home soon. In fact there were footsteps on the landing so Chris set his knife down and smirked and snuck up to the door, ready to flatten himself behind it when Patrick opened it and jump out.
Patrick was woolgathering .. again .. and never saw Chris until he jumped out. He jumped in response. “You ass!” he yelled and closed the door harder than he planned to. Blowing out a breath and trying to calm his heart, he looked at his brother. “So you … don’t work today?” he sounded curious. Of course, Chris could just be starting later. He inhales. “Do I smell onions?” because that meant Chris was cooking .. which meant HE didn't have to. Patrick could cook, he just preferred not to. He didn’t do it as well as Chris anyway.
Chris laughed hard and slapped his brother on the back “Yeah I’m making soup for later. Lentil. It’s vegan so I might drop some on Noelle…...and no I don’t work. How was yours?” He starts walking back to the kitchen. Chris is wearing an old pac man shirt and plaid pajama pants.
Patrick rolled his eyes. “So you … think she’ll just … maybe invite you in to .. eat?” he almost looks innocent. Almost. He heads back to the kitchen, too. “Nice and quiet until around one this morning. Mabel Stanley decided to try and scale the community center again.” he shakes her head. “That kids like a fucking cat. She can get IN the tree, but can never get OUT of the damn thing. The Chief is not amused. He headed for Ford’s place this morning…” he sits and leans back. He’s in faded jeans and a T-shirt with his AFD jacket over all.
Chris huffs at his brother “I’m just offering soup...with no expectations.” He gets a little ruffled and then shakes it off and looks intrigued by the ever climbing Stanley child “That girl’s got some mad skills though...I mean she could grow up to be a search and rescue officer. No fear…...they need to hone that. I get why it freaked out the adults…..but it’s still impressive.”
Patrick shakes his head while he listens to his brother speak insanity. “Good … I was hoping you’d accept that woman wants nothing to do with you or anyone else with their own personal penis.” then he gapes. “Hone that? Know what? You probably have a point. Give Chief Stanley a call before you go across the street and get your soup dumped on your head and suggest that. Then when you come home and shower, you can help me look for a new job, because the Chief will kill me even though YOU thought of that shit.” and here he thought their days of trying to pass as the other twin had ended when they hit puberty.
Chris looks like’s he’s contemplating being offended but then he gets hit by an earwig and a pun inspiration and starts singing new lyrics to Depeche Mode’s My Own Personal Jesus “My own...personal….penis…....Someone’s hand in my underwear...someone who’s there….” He dances around and holds a stick of celery up like a mic and then drops it and cuts it “I know better than to call your Chief…” He says wryly.
Patrick hears the song and watches the dance, then looks cheekily at his brother. “Try singing that to Noelle. That might work better than your gentleman act.” he immediately holds up his hand in a gesture of peace. “I know it’s not an act, Chris. But man ….. What is it about her? You could have any single woman on the island .. and off of it … what is it about Noelle? You’ve had a thing for her for .. how long now?”
Chris sighs and chops and then tips the diced celery into the soup pot “I don’t know. It was a gradual evolution. I mean I’ve known her...we have since she was too young for me to look that way….well stage of life….the age difference hasn’t changed. But yeah it’s just her. I can’t put it into a category. I know it’s one sided so I’m not going to be an ass. I’m happy to be her friend if we can call it that.” He starts peeling carrots “I know I’m a sucker……” he laughs “But enough about me….” He says hopefully “What about you? You know I can clear out any day for an evening if you want to have company over…” He teases.
Patrick bites his lip. “Oh, I don’t know about that… she didn’t look so young when they moved here.” he points out. “And I’m not so sure about the whole one sided thing, either…” he murmurs and then when asked about his own life shakes his head. “Oh I havent fucked up in weeks!” he says triumphantly. He blushes “When I asked Smith out. I … kinda … thought she and her boyfriend were on the outs ….” and he drops his head into his hand.
Chris peels more rapidly and with seemingly great concentration. Then he grins about Smith “Aww Pat…..listen first, then leap buddy.” He gestures with the peeler “Can you pass me that bag of potatoes?” He looks back sympathetically.
Patrick sighs and stands, getting the bag of potatoes and bringing it over to Chris. “I thought I was.” he leans against the table. “Let’s face it. You’re the smoooooth one.” he sighs.
Chris takes it and mocks himself “Oh yes….so silky they slide right off me and don’t even notice…..” He jokes “It’s shit Pat. It’s just shit. But hey, we’ll have soup. Somewhere out there is a woman who can’t tell time….she’s waiting for you and she doesn’t even know it...because she’s an hour late for it already.” He pulls out some potatoes and chuckles.
Patrick laughs. “Well they sure as fuck DRIP off of you. Women.” and he laughs harder. “OK, you got me on that one.” He watches the cooking. “I can’t find love, or keep missing it cause I’m always fucking late. And you’re IN love, but can’t get her to see what a fantastic guy you are.” he snorts. “Identical, eh?”
Chris tips in the now chopped carrots and starts peeling potatoes “Identical in all the sad ways. Mom called. They’re taking a care package to Avery, and wants to know if we want to add to it. I could put in a small container of this soup...and I dunno maybe we could find her a few books. I don’t think they do TV out there at the farm.”
Patrick nods. “I’m not sure … what I have … but … yea. Of course I want in.” he considers. “When are they going?” he asks.
Chris shrugs “Sometime next week. I think they’re still deciding. That old guy, Morgan has a phone but he doesn’t always answer it.” He slides the peels to one side to compost after he chops the potatoes. “Oh garlic! I almost forgot!” He grabs a bulb from the basket nearby to have on hand. “And can you fish the bay leaves out of the spice cupboard Pat?”
Pat nods. “I have to work next Saturday, but I can get something for her.” he stands and moves, heading for the spice cabinet. “Do I get credit for helping you make this fantastic meal, Chris? Or you plan to keep my name out of it?”
Chris turns, opening his body stance in an almost challenging post, knife still in hand but jovial tone “Is it a competition?” He chides. It always a was a little bit and they knew it. He narrows his eyes “You’re not trying to get a date with Noelle are you? She’s vegan...that’s worse than me…”
Pat rolls his eyes. “Yes, Chris. It’s a competition.” he stands and puts his fists on the table. “I’ll go over, using my vastly superior charm to get a date with her. I’ll tell her 8 and forget and show up at 8:30. Then I’ll take her to the 10 alarm and order her a 10 with beef, because … what girl doesn’t like that. And then once she kills me, your way is clear. I only want your happiness, bro.”
Chris pretends to look taxed “But then we’ll have to spend our whole date hauling your ass to mom and dad to get embalmed. They’ll have questions of course. Poor Noelle will be shitting rivers from your spicy carnivore food and I’ll be alone in the hot seat. We need a new plan man….because I only want my happiness too.” He jokes.
Pat nods and considers. “Yea .. good point. That's an awful lot of work.” he strokes his chin. “What if I deliver your culinary offering and tell her that my brother has had a mad crush on her for years. More than a crush, really. And I would appreciate it if she would stop taking pot shots at you because the faster the two of you get married, the faster I get the bigger bedroom here.” he suggests, deadpaning as if he is deadly serious.
Now Chris rolls his eyes and laughs “Now you only want your happiness. Gotta warn you though, morning sun right in the eyes if you forget the blinds. And what would you eat if I move outta here? 10 alarm number 10 beef chili?
Patrick arched his brows. “Well if that isn’t Freudian. I don’t know what is.” he smiles. “It’s Noelle’s bedroom that gets the rising sun, not yours.” he winks. “And I really hope someday that is exactly how you wake up, big brother.” granted it was only three minutes, but .. still. He nods at the pot. “And if you pass on the garlic .. less garlic breath, right?” he winks.
Chris mock punches “You’ve been in Noelle’s room in the morning? I think I just reject all light when I’m not wishing for it. And garlic is life! No garlic, no flavour.” He breathes dramatically on Patrick but really mostly smells like coffee still. Then he gets into the garlic and crushes it, filling the room with the aroma.
Pat blows out a breath. “Me? Seriously? Not a chance. I’m not the one offering her help and sticking to my guns when I know she just can’t carry bags that damn near weigh the same as she does.” he laughs at the coffee breath and the smell of garlic. “You know … you should find a better outlet for your … frustrations.” he shrugs and gets up to get himself some coffee. “Maybe beat a beef cutlet paper thin .. I’ll make myself lunch.” He considers. “Or knead some dough .. make some bread. We can both eat that.”
Chris smirks “Bread to go with the soup…..no cutlets. This soup does take long. I’ll do corn bread. It’s like 20 minutes and we can play a level of zombie run or something?”
Pat laughs and grabs for an apple. “You’re on, Chris. Play a level with me, I kick your ass, you take your soup and leave me alone for the rest of the day.” he considers. “Actually I might hit The Gym now that it’s open again. I’m getting flabby and we don’t have great workout equipment in our basement like you guys do in yours.”
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