Bubbles, Hot Wheels & Hard-ons { -FICTION- }

“Blowing bubbles in milk always feels good.”

 “Huh?”

 

“Blowing bubbles in milk always feels good,” Leroy repeated.

“How so? How does it feel good? That doesn’t even make sense. You’re not in the glass of milk to feel the bubbles being popped, so how does it feel good?”

Leroy lifted his head to look at me, eyebrows raised causing creases in his forehead. With the straw resting between his fingers of his left hand, he brushed away the couple strands of hair falling into his eyes with his right hand. “What the fuck crawled up your ass?”

Smiling, I answered, “Not you.”

“Fuck off,” he chortled, trying to stifle a smile.

Leroy dropped his gaze back toward his straw, his lips and mouth softly blowing air through the straw. Bubbles popped up inside the glass and danced over the rim.

We were sitting in my favorite breakfast restaurant on Clark Street, warm cinnamon rolls nestling onto tan plates parked before each of us. Using my hands I devoured one of my rolls while Leroy played with his chocolate milk like a four year old…

…blowing bubbles in drinks before being yelled at to stop… running around chasing one another before being sent into the basement to play… driving Hot Wheels on the carpet remnant in Gram’s basement.

Every Sunday was the same: Mom, Dad and I would pile into the rusty Ford and make our way over to Grams house where we’d meet up with my aunt, uncle, and two cousins, Victor and his little sister Darlene. We’d gather around the dining room table and eat and laugh before Victor, Darlene and I would crawl around under the table, trying not to get kicked as we tied uncle Vic’s shoe laces together. When Gram brought out dessert, we’d climb back into our seats and eat some more. That’s when we’d eventually get in trouble for blowing bubbles into our cups of milk or juice, and be sent to the basement to play till they told us to come back up.  

One time while playing with Hot Wheels on the huge carpet remnant with masking tape Victor used to mark off streets, I remember “driving” one of my cars toward Victor’s crotch with the knuckles of my driving hand purposely bumping into him to feel him get hard. Victor leaped from knees to feet pretty instantly…

“Ben!” Leroy tapped his fork onto my plate, while grabbing my feet with his. “You gonna finish that roll or what?”

“Oh you done pwaying wif your milk, big boy?”