Spiders

I keep it pretty warm in my house. The temperature rarely falls below 74 degrees, even in the winter.  My friends like it that way, and I always try to keep my friends happy.

Ever since the accident, I’ve lived alone.  About a year ago, my parents died tragically, and now it’s just me in the house we all used to share.  Sometimes when I wake up, I can smell eggs on the stove, and for just a short while I can delude myself into thinking my mom is cooking them.  And sometimes, just sometimes, I could swear I hear their laughter upstairs and down the hall.  My friends just laugh at me.                                

I never noticed until about a month before my parents died, but there are a lot of spiders in my house.  In every room, there seems to be at least one spider clinging nonchalantly to the wall.  Now I’m not afraid of them, mind you, but the thought of them crawling on me in my sleep is enough to make me shudder.

These are just little spiders, though.  I have to shake out my socks before I put them on, lest one of the little buggers is hiding in there.  I mean, I can’t complain, at least they keep all the small gnats and flies in check.

My parents didn’t like spiders at all.  My mom would squish them with napkins, then flush them down the toilet.  My dad would crush them between his fingers and laugh with delight.  Now I am not an advocate of spider rights, but I was kind of appalled by this.  I have never killed a spider, and I don’t intend to start.

About my friends, they don’t say much, but they are good company.  Whenever I feel lonely, they are there to console me.  Whenever I feel I might do something foolish, they are there to keep me in line.  I’m lucky to have my friends.

I don’t work or go to school.  Indeed, some might think I am the ultimate host.  With the money from the two life insurance policies, I have a few years before I even have to think about getting a job.  Now I don’t want to give you the wrong idea, my parents meant the world to me, and I’d trade this life in a second to have them back. 

I don’t get out much.  I stay in here mostly, and entertain.  Sometimes I play guitar for my friends, and other times I read out loud.  They like it when it’s muggy outside and I open up all the windows to let the summer breeze roll through.  They love the sound of the crickets, permeating ceaselessly through the screen door.

Sadly, I am easily influenced.  I do pretty much whatever my friends tell me to do.  I used to be strong-willed, but after weeks of constant cajoling, I succumbed to the pressure.  Anyone would have. 

The last few weeks with my parents were the worst.  We fought a lot, and they didn’t get along with my friends.  It was an awful situation for me, always stuck in the middle.  My parents always tried to kick them out, but they kept coming back.

Getting rid of my parents wasn’t my idea.  It was my friends, they wanted me to do it.  They wanted my mom and dad gone so they could have free reign over my house.  I scolded them for even thinking such a thing, that I would sell out my parents’ lives for something so trivial as a house and some money.  The nerve…the pressure…it’s enough to drive one mad.

People got suspicious when I didn’t even go to the funeral.  I couldn’t bear to see them, to face their cold stares from underneath those heavy eyelids.  It would cut right through me.  I wouldn’t call it guilt, just an inability to face reality.

The only thing that even got me through such times was the support of my friends.  They never left my side.  They stayed with me through the whole ordeal.

At first, I only had a few friends, but without my parents around, it seems like I have a whole bunch of friends now.  I don’t mind this, as everyone says it is good to have as many friends as possible.  Still, I miss my parents. 

It’s getting worse now.  I can actually see my mom cooking dinner, and listen to her talk to dad while he is sitting in the living room reading the paper.  At the same time, he is outside cutting the grass.  He’s a very busy man.  They don’t say bad things about me, they just go about their business as they normally would. 

Today is a nice day.  It’s a little muggy, but there is a nice breeze outside.  I think I will open all the windows so that the air can blow through.  The spiders love to listen to the sound of the crickets, permeating ceaselessly through the screen door.