Page 13 of The Only Seconds that Matter
“Johnny,” Victor whispered as he dropped the throw on top of Johnny.Johnny said nothing, so Victor went to work rearranging him just so that he wouldn’t slide off the couch in the middle of the night.He also pulled off Johnny’s boots, because if he got horse manure or mud on his aunt’s rug, her ghost might come back and haunt him.
He dumped the boots by his own by the front door, then thought better of it.Johnny’s feet were twice the size of his; would Johnny notice something like that?Would he question why Victor’s feet were small?Victor’s shoe size had gone up a few sizes over the past few years, but that didn’t mean they still weren’t unusually—
Victor cut off his own thoughts, realizing how fucking paranoid he sounded.Johnny was the last person to notice Victor’s fuckingboot size.Plenty of men had small feet.Victor had lost years of his life feeling like he didn’t measure up—literally and figuratively— and he’d decided never to indulge that shit anymore.It was brain poison.
Victor looked down at Johnny’s boots next to his own, feeling another kind of sadness.It’d been a long time since anyone had spent the night at his house.It reminded Victor of his little apartment back in Banning, California, his first home away from home, a place with such fond memories that even the roaches and smelly water couldn’t have ruined it.Back then he’d liked the size difference in the boots by the door, liked their dirt and their wear, liked the idea of them being there forever.No tennis shoes for my men, Victor had thought.It’s boots or nothing.
Victor shook his head and the mist of memory and took off his own boots.Exhaustion was making him nostalgic.There was no point of dwelling on the past when those who remained had to be dealt with in the morning.
CHAPTER 4
Victor woke up to the sound of his shower running.He supposed Johnny had helped himself to it.With a sigh, Victor rolled out of bed and threw on fresh clothes.By the time he’d finished that, the shower was cut and he heard footsteps on the floorboards in the hallway.
Victor opened the bedroom door and headed into the living room, followed by both dogs.Johnny was on a chair trying to put his boots on but was quickly swarmed by dogs insistent on licking his face.Johnny grinned as he pushed them back, urging them to give it a fucking break.When he spotted Victor watching, he straightened, one boot on and one in his hands.
“You feeling okay?”Victor asked.If he’d drank as much as Johnny last night, he’d still be dead to the world.
“Aww yeah, I’ll be fine.Little bit of a headache, but I can manage.”He gestured to the dogs.“What’re their names?”
“Piper and Bailey.They were my aunt’s dogs.”
“Heelers?”
“Yeah.”
Johnny bent to grab Bailey by the face.“Yes, you’re very friendly, thank you.”
Bailey responded by trying to leap out of Johnny’s grip and lick his face.Johnny snorted and released him with a laugh.
“You don’t have any dogs?”Victor asked.
“Nah.Work too much.We had a few hound dogs when I was a kid, but they were more of my daddy’s huntin’ dogs than they were family pets, if you know what I mean.Taylor’s been wantin’ a dog, but it’s probably best if she don’t get one.Wouldn’t trust my sister’s boyfriend with a rock, let alone a dog.”Johnny’s expression turned dark for an instant.“I guess I better get outta your hair then, yeah?”
“I can make you breakfast, if you’re interested.I’ve got some eggs I can cook up.”
Johnny perked up immediately, and Victor tried not to laugh.It was like he’d asked a dog if it wanted a treat.He stood up from the chair by the front door and settled onto a stool on the opposite side of the kitchen island.“Well, my mama taught me to never turn down free food.Ain’t never been offered a hot meal after crashing on someone’s couch before.”
“Well,mymother taught me that no one goes hungry.”Victor grabbed several eggs from the carton in the fridge and set them on the counter.“How do you like them?Scrambled?”
“Don’t make no difference to me.However you like to cook ‘em.”
Scrambled it was then.Victor turned on the stove, pulled out a frying pan, and went to work.
“Cooking’s a skill I never learned.Mama never saw a reason to teach me.”
“My dad and abuela taught me how to cook,” Victor replied, cracking the eggs open into the pan and using a spatula to mix them together.
“Abuela, huh?That’s a grandma in Spanish?”
Victor hadn’t even realized he’d used Spanish, because he’d never called his abuelagrandma.He only used “grandma” for his mother’s mother.He glanced over his shoulder at Johnny, hoping to God he wasn’t about to say some of the same racist shit a lot of rural white folk thought was acceptable, especially not when he was just starting to kind of like Johnny.“It is.My dad’s family is Mexican.”
“That’s nice.I got a D in Spanish in high school.All I can remember isdon-day esta el ban-yo.”
Victor couldn’t help but laugh and turn to face Johnny.“Generous.I would have given you an F.”
Johnny guffawed and shrugged.“Wouldn’t have made much of a difference, cuz I dropped out when I was sixteen.”
“Oh.Can I ask why?”
