My attempts to apologize, be nice again, regain some standing as someone she liked, all went ignored.
Friday came and I had to endure the agony of talking to other people at school that were headed to the party that night, knowing I wouldn’t be going. Of course they all still wanted me to go, but it would suck being there by myself when everyone else was coupled up. I went for a really long run after school, returned to my car, and headed home to pout.
On my way, my mom called, “Hey John, its mom. Do you have any plans for tonight?”
“Um, yes mom, at least I might. Why,” I replied?
“Your dad’s half-sister is in from New York and called us out of the blue to see if they could stay with us for two nights. She’s here looking at colleges with your cousin and I thought maybe you’d like to go to dinner,” she said.
“I have a cousin,” I asked my mom, confused?
“Well, she’s your dad’s, half-sister’s, daughter, so she’s about as close to a cousin as you can get,” my mom explained.
“Oh, well, first, that doesn’t sound like fun. Second, I am just headed home from a run, and I was going to run by In-n-Out for a burger, so no. I don’t want to go. I’m tired.”
“Okay, okay. Well, I guess we’ll see you when we get back. Text me if you change your mind and I’ll tell you where we’re eating.”
“Okay mom.”
I headed to grab a burger. I ate inside so it would take more time. I wanted to make sure I got home after everyone had left. Whoever this cousin was, I was in no mood to meet them and pretend that I wanted to be there. I wanted to be at the beach with Gretchen and I was still dealing with the fact that I might never be with Gretchen again.
I pulled into the driveway and headed into the house. My parent’s house is pretty large. The upper story is the main living area with 3 bedrooms at one end of the house and their master suite at the other end. There is a large area downstairs, that includes a spacious family room/home theater, and a separate bedroom and bathroom with a private entrance. My 18th birthday present, was my mom and dad let me move into the downstairs and, effectively, have my own place; well away from them.
Once inside, I jumped in a hot shower, through on some boxers, no shirt, and headed upstairs to find something to snack on; my hunger was never fully satisfied. I popped through the upstairs door and into the kitchen, my back to the family room, I started rifling through the fridge to see what I could scrape up. “Hello John,” a female voice said, scaring the shit out of me.
I jumped out of my skin, spun around to face the voice and simultaneously yelled, “What the fuck? Who are you?”
My heart racing at about 200 beats per minute. The fact that I was staring at a young woman, and not an ax murderer straight out of a cheap horror movie, calmed me down a little bit, but I had no idea who this person was. “I’m Kathy. Your cousin from New York,” she explained. “I’m sorry I startled you. I thought you knew I’d be here and, from the way you jumped, and the way you’re dressed, you didn’t.”