Myths and Gargoyles Jamie Hawke (i read a book .TXT) 📖

aunt is out, but will return this evening,” the woman said. “I help out around the house, and will show you to your room. Dinner will be left out for you, and I’ll be on my way.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you, Mrs…?”

“You can call me Fatiha.”

I glanced back to where my parents’ car had been, sighed as I wondered what I was getting myself into, and entered. The inside of the house was even more extravagant than the outside, if that was possible. There was a crisscrossed marble floor, pillars next to a grand staircase lined with deep red carpet, chandeliers hanging from the ceilings, and even candelabras on ledges throughout. The main entryway led off to a sunken living room on one side, while the other led to a dark room where I could barely make out a grand piano. It was as if someone wanted to rub my face in the fact that I had been so poor my whole life.

Rage built up inside my gut, causing my lip to twitch and my hands to ball into fists. How could my mom’s sister live like this, while we had to struggle to survive? The idea that anyone in the world lived like this while so many struggled from one paycheck to the next and had to worry about rent checks clearing bothered me.

“Are you feeling well?” Fatiha asked, and I realized she was already most of the way up the stairs.

“Yes, sorry. Coming.” I snatched at the handle of my suitcase and did my best to catch up.

At the top of the stairs I realized that there was another staircase farther back, but we didn’t go to that one. Instead, we took a hall to the left that led to my room. After a pleasant, “Enjoy your stay,” Fatiha was off.

There I was in this strange house, all by myself. My room looked like how a rich person thought a young man without as much money would have their room decorated, reminding me of something from the Disney channel. It was still twice as nice as any room I had ever slept in, and almost as big as the house I grew up in. The whole house. I set my suitcase next to the four-poster bed, stared at the white fireplace, and shook my head.

The heater turned on, a distant roar that rumbled through the underbelly of the house. Creaks set me on edge. For all I knew, the sounds could be people walking about. I went to the window, watching as Fatiha exited, and frowned. It might have been smart of me to ask if anyone else was in the house, although her earlier statements had led me to believe this wasn’t the case. Still, the sounds of this old place weren’t the type I enjoyed in a situation like this.

Fortunately, I had my parents stop at a falafel cart on the way, so I wasn’t hungry. Otherwise I would have made straight for the dining room to at least have food to occupy my time. Instead, I saw that my room had its own bathroom, so I quickly took a shower. That would help calm the nerves, at least. But it wasn’t enough, so when I stepped out, I leaned against the sink, closed my eyes, and focused. In my mind, I envisioned my nerves as a ball of unraveled string within me, but took that ball and brought it together, forced it to be one, to melt until it was a power source I could pull from.

It worked. But, before you give me any grief about visualization or meditation or whatever you might think of it, I have to tell you something about me—this was what made me special. We’ll get into it later but suffice it to say, I wasn’t like everyone else, even back then. And at the moment, I turned to a tried-and-true way of pulling myself together when I most needed to.

Looking up at myself, I saw this young, confident guy I knew I should always be. Others often told me I reminded them of Marty McFly from Back to the Future, but I was taller and I liked to think a bit buffer than Marty. Still, I got the resemblance and sometimes played it up, such as with the red jacket I had in the other room. My outfit of choice was basically jeans, a white T-shirt, and the red jacket. I shook out my brown hair so it had that messy ‘I don’t care’ look and tossed my towel over the side of the shower.

I had just pulled on my pants when my phone rang. I was glad to see Steph’s name on the screen.

“Fuck, it’s good to hear your voice,” I said, answering the phone after quickly throwing on a clean shirt from my suitcase.

“Took long enough,” she replied. “All settled in?”

“If… that’s even possible.”

She chuckled. “How about that show, hmm?”

“Steph, it’s not going to happen.” Lowering my voice to make it clear, I added, “I’m not videoing myself jacking off. Sorry.”

She laughed now, and I thought I heard it echoing from outside the phone as well. Frowning, I looked around, and then saw her there, standing outside.

“What… the… fuck.” I went to the glass, staring at her there, perched on the branch outside my second-floor window.

“Thought you could give me the show in person. Maybe I’d get involved.”

I still hadn’t processed what was going on, but when she mimicked opening the window, I got the hint. Hanging up, I quickly opened it, but still didn’t think to move out of the way to let her in.

“Steph, what’re you doing here?”

“You don’t get it, yet? I knew I’d miss you. Knew you weren’t going to send me what I wanted…” Her eyes darted to my crotch, playfully. “So I hopped on the first plane I could find the moment you left. So… what’ya say?”

“Fuck.”

“Fuck?” She scowled. “I fly all the way from Oregon to make sure your first night