I’m not sure what I’ll do if he goes back to the car after he’s done. Probably let out a primal scream or something.
I decide that it can’t hurt to get a couple more of his suitcases. As I bring them inside, Blake steps out of the bathroom, looking sheepish.
“Nature called,” he explains.
“I figured.”
He takes a deep breath as if composing himself. “I can’t help but feel that it’s possible we may have gotten off to a bad start.”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry.”
“You apologized before. A better technique would be to change your behavior.”
“I didn’t apologize before.”
“Yes, you did.”
“That doesn’t sound like me,” Blake says.
“Maybe it wasn’t a sincere, heartfelt apology, but you said sorry a couple of times.”
“Oh,” says Blake. “I don’t remember that. Anyway, I understand why you think you’re too good to open the door for me. We all want to rise above our station. If you’d rather I open my own doors from now on, I’ll respect that decision.”
“Yes, I’d rather you do that,” I say. “I really, really would.”
“It’s a deal then,” says Blake, extending his hand.
It seems weird that I should have to shake his hand to make an agreement that I’m not his servant, but I decide that if he’s (once again) willing to make an effort, I won’t protest. I shake his hand, which is cold and clammy like his soul.
“What are you watching?” he asks.
“Gerbils v. Otters.”
“A cartoon?”
“Yeah.”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
“I don’t know many sixteen-year-olds who still watch cartoons.”
“What are you talking about? Everybody under fifty watches cartoons,” I insist.
“I haven’t watched a cartoon since I was seven,” says Blake.
“What an empty life you must have lived.”
“All I’m saying is that one of us exists in the real world and the other doesn’t.”
I shake my head. “Whatever world you think you exist in, it’s not the real world.”
“Very well. Don’t let me stop you from enjoying Gophers v. Dolphins.”
“Gerbils v. Otters.”
Blake glances around. “So do I get the tour? Oh, wait. I conducted it myself by turning my head.”
In a small way, I have to admire his fearlessness. I’m not a muscular guy who juggles barbells, but in a one-on-one weaponless battle, me against Blake, I’d win for sure.
Maybe Blake has weapons.
Nah. I think he’s just nuts.
Blake stretches his arms above his head and yawns. “It was a long flight,” he says. “I’m going to take a nap.”
He walks into my bedroom and closes the door.
There’s still plenty of luggage to carry in plus a whole extra trip back to the airport. I was victorious in the waiting game, but I guess Blake wins this round.
5.
I'm typically not a twitchy person, but I twitch a lot as I carry in the rest of his suitcases and set them in the living room. I can hear Blake snoring through the bedroom door.
Of course he snores. How could it be otherwise?
As I drive back to the airport, I call Audrey and update her on how horrible Blake is. Then I call Mel and tell him how horrible Blake is. Then I call Clarissa and tell her how horrible Blake is. I feel a little better after being able to vent my frustration three times in a row. At least now I don’t want to bash other cars off the highway.
I pick up the rest of Blake’s luggage. I tip the porter, but I assure you I’ll be seeking reimbursement when I get home.
On the way back to my house, I call Audrey, Mel, and Clarissa again just to remind them that I can’t stand my cousin.
It’s hard to imagine that he and I are related. If our life situations were swapped, would I behave like that? The thought chills me to the bone. I don’t think Aunt Mary and Uncle Clark even wanted to go on the cruise. They probably needed three months away from their son to regain their sanity.
When I get home, I pause at the front door.
No way.
I can’t be hearing his snoring from outside the house, can I?
Yep. I sure can.
I open the door. The floors are not actually vibrating, but the noise level coming from my bedroom exceeds anything I thought was physically possible. It’s like he’s in there playing a tuba.
I carry in the rest of his luggage, hoping there’s a CPAP machine in one of these suitcases.
You know what? Maybe Blake isn’t evil. Maybe he was just tired. He had to get up early for a long flight, and his exhaustion could have manifested itself into the reprehensible creature lurking in my bedroom. I’ll bet that when he wakes up from his nap, he’ll be a delight.
Four hours later he’s still snoring away.
Mom looks a bit surprised as she walks inside. “Goodness.”
“Impressive noise level, isn’t it?” I ask.
“How long has he been out?”
“A while.”
“How are you two getting along?”
“It’s like we’re brothers instead of cousins.”
“Well, that’s good.”
The snoring stops.
Mom glances at the large pile of suitcases. “Not a light packer, is he?”
“Nope.”
“Does he know we already have a garage full of his boxes?”
“I’m pretty sure he does.”
My bedroom door opens with a creak. I hadn’t ever noticed the sound, but now that I’m hyperaware of the flaws in my home, it definitely creaks. I’ll have to douse it with WD-40 before Blake can comment on it.
Blake steps into the hallway. His hair is perfect, and his face is much less red. He looks like he had a very relaxing nap. His face lights up as he sees Mom.
“Aunt Connie!” he says with a smile. “What a pleasure to see you after all these years!” He walks over and gives her a tight hug.
“Great to see you!” says Mom.
“I apologize for not being awake when you got home. It was a long trip, and I didn’t sleep well last night. Too excited, I guess.”
“Oh, no, that’s totally fine,” says Mom. “How was your flight?”
“Well, the first leg I had a window seat,
