Dead End

He sat there looking ahead next to his grandmother.

Her old woman smell meeting some unfortunate undertone of body odor from under her armpits of which, (he was eye level on). Made his purpose being there torturous. He figid a lot more trying to fight the harsher conditions that also was contributing to his pain as, the inferno heat of the summer was punching through the windows.

Windows that was propt open due from Reverend Pams excessive belief of "god will turn on the A/c soon" style of spiritual leader. This present irritated young teen could have said otherwise.

But he couldn't leave (even if he wanted to) couldn't go back home to his dad's place as it was a state away. And his mom? That was another story he didn't want to bring up.

He was stuck with his grandma and grandpas for the summer alone. With no friends. And no pets of his to keep him company on this "country style of adventure."

"Ok folks i do declare we should get going with our service so, we can all jump into the "Snow plunge" inground pool outback! I promise that there would be cooler refreshments along with cooler treats for the little ones!"

Reverand Pam always seemed to know how to say her words so right. To pierce the veil of the uncommon and superior to make them one of the same. The gift of a total jedi mind trick (in laments terms.) The teen watched on then, tried to unbutton his top button of his soaked white pollo he was wearing searching for a small source of comfort to own.

His grandmother felt the disturbance from next to her as her head moved so swiftly to look into his direction. She whispered quite intensely down onto his soaked earlobe. "Darren Dallas Drake what in the blue heck are you trying to do here with your grandmother?"

"I am hot mam. I just wanted to try and get some air circulating."

"Circulating? Honey, do you need a fan?"

"Sure."

"Then take an envelope and start folding it till it becomes one. But you do need to button that top button back up"

"Grandma!"

"Grandma nothing, do it. You're going to have a fan"

The touching and yet hard-knocks style of lessons of his grandmother Drake. A truer testament of tough to the bitter bone.

Darren sniffled a little to stop his emotions from being hurt. Swallowing hard upon the vice grip his Adams apple was in to surface. He looked forward and snatched one of the crusty white envelopes and begin to fold trying to remember what his dear aunt had taught him.

The aunt that loved to fold and make certain sculptures out of the strangest things. His dear Aunt Bird (as he remembered her.) She was the definition of what "good" truly was. He remembered her gentle natural red hair, her hazel green like eyes as well hidden behind her golden framed glasses. He remembered her laugh and her warmth when she embraced him. A hard thing to consider when you think her, and his dad were siblings and Grandma Drake was the mother.

But, to Darren he didn't have the current time to do that. As the faint glimmer of his dear Aunt Birds smile brought him comfort along with an eerie chill as though, the coldest air conditioner vent was directed sorely upon him. He folded his fan with a creative passion allowing his 14-year-old thoughts to take back over so he could be silenced. Allowing Reverend Pam's most exhausting sermon to be preached.

A tradition mainly he and his grandmother have done every Sunday since he has arrived there. So far, it's been 13 days. Back-to-back without miss. The truer question however that Darren had to himself though was this...

"He wonders why his grandfather never comes. And he stays home in the basement?"

The service went on as Rev pam went into the details of the sermon for the week. "Wickedness and the youth. Social medias influence as a babysitter for the future generations" details and other various political affixational hazard style of points. As that was a trade secret amongst those of her closest friends. She was a diehard leftist being employed by a town full of godly people.

Darren looked around as he did the last 12 Sundays. Playing around within his head the congregation that surrounded him of the local community of "Grace." A game of "guess who" from the roster of farm bred, rock-climbing, horse-riding gun packing son of a guns that inhabit this town. He scanned so quietly from the far right of what his eyes could see to the far left. He saw a lot of the returning locals to hear Rev Pam's cunning words. He saw the native American man "Moose" and his lovely wife Miranda-they ran a local bakery next to the library in town. "The ember glow" if he remembered correctly. He was looking down and in deep thought as Miranda looked ahead letting her mind wander.

Darren always admired some of the next set of locals he grew to know quickly which was "The Sanders 5". For these guys were the neighbors of his grandparents so, he grew to know their antics and loud personalities. Especially that of "Ronnie Sanders" who apparently is called "Mac" since he always tries to impress the ladies around the town with his Sauvey attitude and facade despite the fact he and Darren are around the same age.

Darren chuckled to himself as he looked over at the wrong time and saw Mac in the middle of a silent grudge match between, he and his siblings. Grandma Drake nudged him roughly to make him pay attention once more to the sermon. He obeyed for a moment waving his hand made fan ever so quickly in front of his face. Looking ahead and trying to go somewhere mentally praying for, the feel of something cool soon.