MARTY IS OURS

“Hey, Matty?” Belle called. “I need you to get me the madeleine pan up there.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Belle pointing to the top shelf of one of the cabinets. I set down my knife and the carrot I’d been chopping, took three steps to the left, and reached up to grab the pan. It was a regular occurrence for me to grab things on high shelves for Belle. She’d grown as tall as she would ever get by age fourteen and stopped at only 5’1”, slender yet stacked, like a lingerie model at four-fifths scale. Her mom had been a short, busty little woman, too. On the other hand, I hit my growth spurt right when Belle stopped and now stood 6’1”, taller even than Belle’s dad.

Belle said thanks and busied herself pouring batter into the molds. Today was the Wednesday after Labor Day. Tomorrow would be the first day of school, and she wanted to bring treats for our friends. Her dad had not yet come home from work, and even though I didn’t actually live in this house, I was making dinner for the three of us.

I knew my way around the Kramer kitchen better than my own. I certainly ate more dinners at their house than mine. Belle and I shared the space on autopilot, working in silence without the need to chit-chat. After eighteen years together we were basically family, with no worries about personal space. When she had to use the sink, Belle simply tapped my hip with her forearm and I immediately slid to the side. When I needed to get glasses from the cabinet above her head I simply reached over her head without so much as an “excuse me”.

The table was set by 6:17pm, which was about the time Mr. K always got home after sitting in Silicon Valley rush hour traffic. He came in from the garage, took one big sniff, and smiled. “I can tell Matt is cooking today. It smells so much better than yours, Belle.”

“Dad!” Belle exclaimed, scandalized. But she immediately started chuckling along with him. Mr. K’s cholesterol levels had been going up, so Belle had taken it upon herself to start feeding him “cleaner” meals. But it was our last day before school started, so I’d made barbecue ribs and French fries (although Belle had talked me into baking the fries). I still made steamed carrots, already knowing Belle would nag her own dad into eating them as payment for each bite of the ribs.

Just like we did most nights, the three of us ate our meals in relative silence. Again, there was no need to fill the space with meaningless conversation, although I did ask Mr. K if he’d heard the latest news about the 49ers. We chatted about football for a couple of minutes before returning to the food. Then Mr. K asked us both if we were excited about going back to school.

“Not really,” I admitted. “It’s been nice to just be lazy around the house all day.”

“True,” Belle chimed in. “But it’ll be nice to see some of our friends.”

I snorted. “Our friends have been lazy around MY house all summer.”

Belle shrugged. “Well, other friends beyond the BTC. Don’t get me wrong, I love hanging out with the girls. But there are some people I haven’t seen in three months and have no idea what they’ve been up to.”

(Before I get too far, let me explain that we were in high school during a period before social media or cell phones. I know, it was practically the Stone Age.)

Mr. K nodded, but arched an eyebrow and gave his daughter a curious look. “Are there any boys in this category of people you’re looking forward to seeing?”

“Dad!” Belle exclaimed again before rolling her eyes.

So Mr. K turned to me. “Has she talked about any boys she thinks are cute?”

“Yes, but that’s as far as I’ll admit.” I grinned and mimed zipping my lips shut.

“Is there one boy in particular?”

“Dad!” Belle screeched.

I stared studiously at my plate, zipping my lips again.

“Is he a good kid or one of those bad boys?”

“Dad!”

I finally spoke up, saying, “Relax, he’s a good kid. And if he turns out to not be such a nice guy, I’ll pound his face in.”

“My man.” Mr. K grinned and raised his hand for a high-five across the table.

Belle rolled her eyes as our palms slapped, and she shot me a look. “I am never telling you about boys ever again.”

I shrugged. “You’ll tell Mari, and Mari’ll tell me.”

“Ugh.” Belle buried her face in her palms for a moment before glaring at her dad. “Aren’t you gonna ask him if there are any girls he’s looking forward to seeing?”

I snorted. “Yeah, right.”

Mr. K sat up straight and measured my expression. “What’s wrong? Surely there’s some girl out there you think is hot and are looking forward to seeing again tomorrow.”

I shook my head. “I got all the hot girls I need hanging out with me all the time.”

Mr. K exchanged a look with Belle. He knew about the “Nobody dates Matty” rule, but every now and again he looked like he wanted to check and make sure that The Rule was still in force. She just shrugged.

So Mr. K looked back to me. “I meant someone you might actually be able to date.”

I waved him off. “I haven’t had a girl approach me in more than six months. And even the ones I might be interested in all get scared off by the BTC.”

Belle frowned. “We do NOT scare them off.”

I shot her a look. “Were you not there when I started talking to Ashley Mitchell and Sam suddenly joined us with a smile full of teeth, thrusting her big power boobs out an extra couple of inches?”

Belle snorted and choked a little bit. She coughed, thumped her chest twice, and managed to say, “I forgot about that.”

Mr. K looked at his daughter. “Doesn’t seem very fair.”

I shook my head. “I’m not complaining. Seriously, it’s fine.”

Mr. K’s eyebrows both went up. “Well, it’s a brand-new year. Anything can happen.”

He was totally right.