Homesick

It would be Christmas Eve day in two hours, and Nick was on his way back to his apartment.

(He was always careful to call it the apartment or ‘my place’. Calling it home didn’t sit right with him.)

Knees deep in snow, Nick gripped the railing covered in tinsel and heaved himself up the small hill in front of his apartment. (His landlord goes to Florida every winter, leaving them to fend for themselves.)

Ricky heard someone in the staircase from the kitchen. Then he heard the front door opening. Nick was home.

Nick clambered inside, feet knocking together and snow dusting the floors. Ricky’s head popped out from the end of the hall.

“You’re back early” said Ricky. He watched as Nick unraveled his scarf and unbuttoned his coat. “Hungry? I’m making pancakes.” Now he stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He was holding a red rubber spatula as was wearing his pajamas. Nick looked at his best friend and wondered why he wasn’t asleep.

“Sure” said Nick, walking down the narrow hall towards him. “What’s the occasion?” He passed him and went to the fridge for a water bottle. His mom’s voice rang in ears as he drank water for the first time in hours. (She would be livid to know he’d been dehydrated.) He imagined her now, sleeping, next to dad, the Christmas tree twinkling downstairs.

“Nothing, really. I was just bored”

“But you never cook.”

“I wanted to try.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“What makes you think something’s wrong?”

“Your face is weird and you’re not asleep.”

Damn Nick, for knowing him so well. And damn Ricky too, for being so easy to read.

Ricky signed, resting his hands on the sink, the spatula still in a loose grip. At the stove, the pancake started to bubble. Nick stood behind him still, letting Ricky collect his thoughts. He always thought too much before he spoke. It bothered Nick that he couldn’t ever let it all out, like he did all the time.

“It’s Christmas Eve soon,” said Ricky softly, the accusing tone now disappeared. “And I think I’m just feeling a bit homesick. This is my first year away from home, not with the family, not going to my Nona’s tomorrow.” Nick said nothing. He did not move an inch, even when he knew the pancake was burning. “So I made pancakes because my mom always used to make them. But they don’t taste the same. It’s not the same, because I should be home. I should be. I know it, mom knows it, you know it. They need me to be there, Kitty needs me. My sister needs me, Nicky. And I’m hours away for what? I can’t even remember why.” Ricky turned around now. “And this damn spatula, it's from IKEA, you know?”

“I know. We bought it together.”

“I know. But it’s nothing like the one at home. The one at home isn’t this stupid color and it’s isn’t rubber and…” He drifted away, suddenly noticing the black pancake. With the crappy spatula, he struggled lifting it until he gave up and threw the pan and pancake into the sink, turning on the tap. Ricky watched as the cold water broke down the pancake and turned it into mush.

(Their lives were happening without him, stories pilling up and filling the house and spilling over and washing him away.)

And Ricky was new to this feeling.

“We’ll go buy a new spatula.”

“I don’t want a new one.” I want to go home, he thought. But the unspoken words hung between them, like heavy snow. “I’m going to bed.”

Ricky went passed Nick, and he listened to the sound of his retreating footsteps. Nick stood still in the small kitchen, but he heard footsteps coming back to him, and then arms were wrapped around his waist and Ricky’s face was pressed against his back.

“I’m sorry, Nicky. I didn’t mean to be an emotional mess tonight.”

“It’s okay, Ricky. It’s okay. Go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. See you”

Once Ricky was gone, Nick went to the sink and closed the tap and put the pancake mush in the garbage, washed the pan, and threw out the red spatula.

Author's Note

Please leave a review, I would really appreciate it. Anything you have to say, really, I want to hear it.

Reviews

[Nicole]

You have good storytelling skills. This is clear and consistent. I would be interested in reading a short story about Rick and Nick. What we need to know is why? Why should we care about them? Did they both move out of their homes at a young age, and are they struggling to make ends meet? Why is Rick struggling so much? What's their relationship? Are they simply roommates, or did they know each other before? Are they good friends? More importantly, why didn't they go home for Christmas? We can make guesses about financials or work obligations, but you as the writer, need to point us in the right direction. Keep working on this, I want to see what happens next.

[Ioanna Engarhos]

I first off want to say thank you for taking the time to write this review, it was very sweet! I appreciate it so much that you enjoyed it and want to see more. All of these questions are definitely eye openers, and I will try to write some more on these two characters! I like them a lot as well :)

[Nicole]

Always happy to review;) and great! These characters are too awesome for their story to be over. Looking forward to reading more!