Fish guessed it was Bella's way of saying she was sorry. She made spaghetti.
Of course, he wasn't so sure how excited he was suppose to be. As it was, he'd heard nothing from the school. Probably, his luck, he wouldn't. Really, nothing had exactly panned out since he got here. Other than getting married which felt like he'd left his other life behind of old pals and going to the guitar shop which was just down stairs from his studio apartment back in Austin. He couldn't help but miss it and wonder how his orange tree was doing.
It was hard for him to say much. He was fighting a cold as it was, and he didn't want to explain. Really, if he managed through this with a little sausage and a lot of zucchini, he thought he ought to go to bed, but that wasn't saying he would.
"Mom's got somebody here." Bella whispered as she slightly nudged her head in the direction of upstairs.
"What?" Fish slightly woke up from being so tired of work. "Am I suppose to do something?" He yawned then, buttering up his bread roll.
"I don't know who he is." She shrugged.
"Well, find out." He wasn't in the mood for this as he kept eyeing more vegetable popping out of the spaghetti like mushrooms and peppers. He didn't want to eat this.
"I can't do that." She shook her head, no as she sat down and started to eat.
"What do you want me to do?" He didn't sound too enthusiastic about the chore. He dove his fork in, to twirl the spaghetti, maybe if he messed with it long enough she'd think he ate it and later he would come down stairs in the middle of the night for a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich. He just couldn't stop yawning though.
"Nothing." She snapped.
"Then stop bugging me about it." He ate the bread then and ate the sausage out of the spaghetti.
"You are no help what so ever." It sounded like a growl to him.
He politely got up then and scraped the remains in the trash. He needed a smoke. He just thought he might lose it, otherwise.
Fish went out the backdoor slamming the screen-door behind him. It was actually cool out. It felt more like winter than spring. There was perhaps a thunderstorm brewing and the wind was stirring.
He lit a cigarette and saw the old neighbor across the way, just sitting out like a statue. He could sit still like that too. He imagined. At one time, anyway.
The house had been so warm and the chill got to him before he knew it, but he had his cigarette to keep him warm, at least for a bit. He looked up at the dark clouds rolling in. Fish was starting to think they might be better off if he went away. Only, he couldn't exactly figure out the moment he thought this first. Was it right now, or a couple of days ago? What was it that made him want to make a change? Was he giving up or moving on?
He nursed the cigarette, noting this was number two cigarette of the day. He'd had one this morning right after he peed when he got up. Fish was doing his best to make a pack of cigarette go as far as they could go. The price of everything was going up. He took in the air then hoping there would be something good to happen soon. He had to keep telling himself, he was grateful that nothing bad had really happened. He had to keep reminding himself this.