Written By Shaun Blankenship

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Robert woke up on Rhonda's couch. He lightly padded the tip of his hair, sticking from each way off of his head, and tried patting them down straight. He sat up on the couch and looked around. His head was throbbing. "Aw, man. What happened last night?"

Out of sheer predictability, Rhonda appeared from the corner of Robert's eye, from a small opening leading from the living room to the staircase. "Hey, you're awake, Robbie. How are ya?" She rushed to him wearing a dark red robe with a glass of orange juice in her hand. "Are you alright?"

Robert gripped at his head. "What happened? I can't remember anything after… what did we do when we got to the restaurant?"

Rhonda sat next to him and gripped the orange juice glass with both hands in front of her. "Well, I know what you're probably thinking and all I can tell you is, 'No.'"

"What?" Robert grabbed at his head. "Aw, I have a headache."

"That's what I'm talking about. You didn't get drunk and nothing happened to you afterwards that might have violated your personal… person." Rhonda sighed and shook her head. "Do you want some aspirin?"

"No, I don't touch that stuff." Robert gripped at his temples, still aching from the pain. "Maybe some ibuprofen, and what happened last night?"

Rhonda pointed to Robert and than to her bathroom. "Do you want me to tell you first or get the medicine first?"

"Just tell me first. I think I want to know before I medicate myself."

Rhonda took a deep breathe and began, "Last night, we went out to dinner for Valentine's Day."

Robert nodded with his hands still on his head. "Yeah, I remember that."

"I had the lobster, you had them make you a cheeseburger or something. I had the violin player right next to our table. After we ate, I had Romero drive us back to my house. When we arrived here, you fell out of the car and onto the sidewalk."

Robert gripped his head in a sudden bolt of pain. "Ugh! Did you take me to a doctor?"

"No," Rhonda explained. "See, at the point, the sidewalks hadn't been salted. You were still conscious and said that you'd be fine."

"Then what happened?" Robert massaged the side of his head. "If I was fine, why does it feel like a bowling ball hit me?"

"Well, on the way up my stoop, you slipped again. This time, you fell all the way down the steps and flew back to where your head hit the actual street instead of the sidewalk."

Robert thought about it for a minute. "That would make sense."

Rhonda took a sip from her orange juice glass and then placed it on the coffee table. "That's not the end of it."

"It's not?"

"At that point, you were in a lot of pain and wanted to just lay down. I was originally just going to take you here for a few seconds and then ship you off home. When this happened, I called your house and explained to you parents how you were going to spend the night."

Robert turned his head over to Rhonda. "What did they say?"

"They just wanted to know if you were going to be alright. It didn't look like you could go into a concussion and you weren't bleeding so I said it was alright."

As she talked, Robert could only focus on the glass upon the table. "Can I get some orange juice?"

"Yeah, sure." Rhonda picked up her glass and handed it to him.

He stared at the glass and cringed. "Um, can I get my own glass? If its not too much trouble."

"Oh, okay." Rhonda cocked her head up the stairs. "Romero! Can you please bring me another glass of orange juice?"

The man in the suit came out of one of the bedrooms and moved down the stairs. "Right away, Miss Lloyd."

Rhonda turned her head back to Robert. "Well, anyway, about last night. You were having a tiny bit of trouble going up the stairs to the guest bedroom so I helped you up there. When I got to the top, I had to unlock the door since we never use it and don't want anybody wandering into it. We're private people like that."

Robert nodded. "Okay."

"Anyway, while I was pulling out the key, I propped you up against the stairway. As soon as I turned to help you in bed, you lost your grip of the rail and fell backwards down my staircase."

Robert gritted his teeth together thinking about the experience. "Oh, man."

"You're lucky to be alive, actually." Romero turned the corner into the living room holding a tray with a single glass of orange juice on it. "Oh, Robert, your drink."

Robert picked the juice up off of the tray and smiled. "Thanks, man."

The man smiled back at him. "You're very welcome, sir." His smile instantly faded as he walked away.

Robert turned back to Rhonda. "You were saying?"

Rhonda shrugged. "It was then we had a doctor take a look at you. We called up our personal doctor, Dr. Harding, and he made a house call. We had him look at you and he said you'd be alright. Maybe a slight headache in the morning, but no damage that we should be worried about." She picked up her glass again and took another sip. Robert soon followed her. "So instead of trying to take you upstairs again, we made the couch up for you."

Robert put his hand that was against his head down at his knee. "He said I'd have a 'slight' headache?"

"Do you want that Advil?"

Robert nodded as he took another sip of orange juice. When he was done, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Yeah, if you could. It'd mean a lot."

Rhonda stood up from the couch, placing her glass back on the coffee table in the process. "Okay, wait here."

Robert rocked back in forth on the couch. 'Wait here.' Like I actually have the option of going anywhere else. He started thinking about the night over again: what he could remember and what he had been told. Then an almost important question arose: Was this a successful date or a terrible date? Rhonda says I enjoyed the night, but then again my skull is probably shattered from all the times I hit my head…

Rhonda came back from the bathroom with a large, white bottle in her hand. "Every time I have company over, somebody gets a headache."

Robert let out a very short and low laugh. Rhonda took her seat beside him once more. He shifted in his seat trying to make himself more comfortable. "I'm sorry I can't remember anything from last night. You probably spent a lot of money on me."

"Pssh!" Rhonda waved a hand at Robert. "Money is no object. Money I have. If you want, we could try again tonight. What do you say?"

Robert winced at the thought of another date with Rhonda but shortly eased up on his eyes. He shook his hand out in the air stiffly. "Maybe tomorrow. Let me think about it."

Rhonda sighed and threw herself against the back of the couch. She replied back as if somebody had nagged her into accepting his answer. She replied back like she was Eyore from Winnie the Pooh. "Okay, Rob. I understand."

Robert glared at her offended. "Rhonda, I didn't mean it like that…"

"Sure you didn't, Rob." She closed her hands together across her chest. "Sure you didn't."

"Look, this isn't the best time to ask me. I mean, if you were to ask me maybe three hours later, I might have a more complete answer. Right now I can't really think."

Rhonda undid her hands and moved herself forward on the couch. "Well… then why don't you just spend the day with me? I'll stop calling you."

Great, she's using means of extortion. "My parents have to be worried to death about me. I at least have to check in with them."

"That's okay." Rhonda sat upright. "Just spend the day with me, Robert, I'm not that bad of a person."

Now what other options do you have in a situation like this? One side of your brain is saying telling her off would be rude and also not sure enough to be the answer. The other side is saying take it but live with the feeling that somehow it'll all end up in tragedy. All together, the brain is confused. What should I do? The thoughts rolled back and forth in his head. He finally thought of an answer. "Yeah, I'll stay with you today. We need to stop by my house though."

Rhonda clapped in excitement and hugged him. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you…" She let go of him and backed off for a moment. "I forgot, is it okay to hug you?"

Robert looked at her like a dog anticipating a kick for being bad. "Um, it's okay."

"Thank you, Rob!" She quickly hugged him again. As she tightened her grip, Robert groaned from the pressure she was placing on his chest. What have I gotten myself into?

***

A lady with glasses and dark, black hair knocked on her son's bedroom door. In a low and almost inaudible voice, she let out, "Um, Brandon, you have a phone call."

The voice from the other side of the door yawned and replied back groggily. "Uh… who is it?" The voice then continued to breathe heavily from his nose.

The mother put the cordless phone up to her ear. "May I ask who's calling?" There was a short pause but the phone was soon placed back at her side. "She says you know who it is."

The bedroom door opened partly due to a chain lock, and Brainy's head peeped through the opening. "Uh… tell her I'm sick."

"You're sick, Brandy?"

"Um… yeah, very sick." He wheezing shortly turned to coughing for a brief moment. "See, I'm very sick."

The mother picked up the phone. "Um… yeah, he's really sick." Once again the mother paused, breathing heavily like her son. "Uh-huh. Okay. Bye." She hit the button and turned the phone off. "She says she hopes you get better."

Brainy smiled. "Okay." The door closed and a door lock was heard shifting into place. A stereo clicked on as his mom walked away.

***

Helga took her twenty-ounce over to the U-Scan cash register. Being a resident of Robert's house with no job, his parents had let her take their bottle returns back to the nearby Friendly Frank grocery store. Sure, it'd be cheaper to buy one over at the local party store and easier to walk with the bottles too, but she liked the walk. It was something to pass her time with. Phoebe had been busy with Gerald for the past few days and Robert had been busy with Rhonda. Arnold was out of the question, and everybody else stunk. It was only three dollars worth of cans, but all that meant that there'd be an extra dollar or two to pocket afterwards.

She touched the button for the English instructions. Sorry, my Spanish is kind of rusty these days. The monitor popped up a box with more instructions. Helga read them aloud to herself, "'Please scan the first item and place it in the bag.' The first item? The only item."

She took the Yahoo and ran it across the black laser platform. She held it in her hand and placed it on a tray to the left of her. Man, this is pathetic. Taking back bott… what the... A giant exclamation point popped up on the screen. She once again read the text, "'Please place the item in the bag.'" She stared confused at the monitor. "What if I don't want a bag?"

She moved the bottle onto the white platform to her right. The machine finally asked her to pay. "Bottle slips? Yes."

An employee in a green shirt immediately walked up to her machine. "Yeah, I'm gonna need those… thingers…"

Helga held up the slip and looked at the teen in front of her. "You mean, my bottle return things?"

"Yeah, that's it."

"Well, why can't I just scan these across the thing? Or why can't there be a little acceptor thing where I can slip it in like the dollar… the dollar thing." She placed her hands at her sides. "I mean, if I'm actually going to have to deal with a cashier, what's the point of this whole U-Scan?"

The boy shrugged. "Can I just please have the bottle returns?"

She slipped her fingers around the small piece of paper, but eventually ended up handing it to him. "Okay, but you need to talk to the manager about this. He needs to tell somebody."

"I don't think he's gonna care, ma'am."

Helga scowled at the employee. "Can you just pay for my pop?"

"Right." The boy turned around and walked to his station. Helga folded her arms and tapped her foot in place. That kid is so lucky I don't work here. I'd be kicking his sorry can around everyday for the rest of his life. I'd be holding him upside down and mopping the floor with his head. I'd be…

"Hey, can I have an application?"

The boy looked up from his station. "I'll have your change in a minute."

"No, you misunderstood me. I said, 'can I have an application?' Can I?"

A cash register opened from his waist and was shut close again. He walked over to her with a dollar seventy-five for her. "Here's your change."

Helga unfolded her arms and flailed them about as she talked to the boy. "Are you deaf or what? I asked for an application! Can I get one? May you be so kind as to bestow one upon me?!"

The boy stood stunned for a moment, but snapped back to reality and walked over to his station. After rummaging through a few drawers, he pulled out a beige paper form and held out in Helga's direction. "Here you go."

"What, do you expect me to walk over there?"

The teen rolled his eyes back in his head and glared back at Helga. "Yes. Yes, I do."

She stomped loudly and dramatically over to the station and snatched the form from his hand swiftly. Helga narrowed her brow and snarled at him, "You, my friend, are now in some very big trouble."

With that, she walked away. Well, if I don't get a job today, at least the kid'll have an interesting story to tell his friends. I can hear him now; "This chick came in and she was just… man, was she just snotty!"

It's indescribable how much pride Helga takes into her self, even when she knows she's wrong. Sometimes, it's hard for even her to believe.

***

"Brandon, that girl's calling again."

The stereo in Brainy's room shut off, a series of clicking sounded, and the door opened up partially due to the still fixed chain lock. "Uh… what does she want?"

"She knows you're sick, but wants to know if she can bring you some chicken soup." The mother shrugged. "I don't have a problem with it."

Brainy's eyes wandered to objects inside his room hidden by the door. "Um… uh… tell her I have food poisoning."

"Food poisoning?"

"Yeah." The boy stood breathing through his nose excessively. "I'm heaving everything I eat."

"Okay, sweetie. Um… do you need anything?" The mom gave a sympathetic look to her only child. "Do you want some water?"

"Mom, I'm not really sick. I'm…"

"Hold on." His mom placed the phone back up to her ear. "Actually, he's not sick."

Brainy slammed his door and the locks were clicked back into place. A scream was heard from inside, "MOM!"

She put the phone down at her waist and placed her face against her son's door. "Oh, Brandy, what's wrong?"