Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > .waste.of.time.
“I’m home,” I called out as I walked into my house. Something smelled good. Kind of like Gram’s spaghetti with chicken . . . Oh no.
Gram wandered out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. “Where were you?”
“At a . . . callback.”
“With that boy?”
I was tempted to lie, but I decided it wasn’t really worth it. “Yes,” I said.
Gram sighed. “Alixzandra,” she said. “When are you going to listen? Boys want nothing but sex. And as soon as he gets you pregnant—” She snapped her fingers. “You can say goodbye. Just like that.”
“Gram,” I said through gritted teeth, “we are not doing anything.”
“I’m just telling you,” she said, and shrugged. I was surprised that she didn’t push it any further. She must have been in a good mood. “Are you hungry?”
“Not anymore,” I said, turning and heading for the stairs.
“Alixzandra, come back here.”
I stopped and slowly turned around. “What?”
“Now, you listen to me. I am sick of your attitude.”
“Well, you’re the one who gave it to me.”
Gram scowled at me, and then shook her head, as though she had decided that scowling wasn’t worth the trouble. “Now what is it? Are you starving yourself? Is that why you say you’re not hungry?”
“I’m not starving myself!”
“Well, you certainly look skinnier. Look at how big your pants are.”
“They’re just a little baggy — I like them that way!”
“I just watched a documentary on those anorexic girls, Alixzandra — I tell you, that is a horrible ordeal. You shouldn’t be doing that to yourself.”
“I’m not.”
“You are not going to starve yourself in my house.”
“This isn’t your house.” I was mad by now. For one thing, it’s my mother’s house, and if anything happens to her, the house goes to me.
Unfortunately, however, if anything did happen to my mother, the court would probably wind up appointing Gram to take care of me for the next couple of years, because my godmother died two years ago.
“That is completely beside the point,” Gram said, looking for all the world like this was indeed her house. “Now, I made spaghetti with chicken, and you’re going to have some.”
I decided not to say anything else and meekly followed her into the kitchen. Whatever else there is to say about Gram, she is a really good cook and I really love her spaghetti with chicken.
I sighed as I dropped into my usual chair at the kitchen table. “Where’s Mom?”
Gram shook her head as she bustled over the stove. “She’s out to dinner.”
“Dinner? With who?”
“She said clients. It’s probably some good-looking man from her office who just wants to get her in bed, if the truth were known.”
The remaining fragments of my appetite instantly evaporated. “GRAM!”
“What?” Gram innocently slid a plate of spaghetti in front of me. I got up to get myself some silverware. “Facts of life, honey. Who knows, maybe he’ll be a better man than that scumbag father of yours.”
I dropped back into my seat, speechless. I wondered if she would notice if I attempted to gag myself with my spoon.
“I’m telling you, Alixzandra,” Gram said, fixing herself a plate of spaghetti, “you’re lucky you don’t remember the man.” She sat down next to me. “Oh, darn, I forgot silverware. Get us some, will you?”
I silently handed her my unused cutlery, and stared down at my plate.
“Maybe your mother will finally have another child. Hopefully, she’ll have learned from her mistakes this time.”
“Well, I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment to you.”
“Well, at least you’re pretty. Of course, that just makes you all the more easy, in my experience, but trust me, Alixzandra, you get away with a lot more when you’ve got looks on your side.”
“I guess.”
“You certainly didn’t get those from that scumbag father of yours, I can tell you that. Sometimes I wonder if he was switched at birth. My family has always been good-looking. Back in the day, I was told I looked quite a bit like Marilyn Monroe. I think it was more my hair than anything. Your grandfather’s side had looks, too. And the charm that man had . . . Devastating combination, Alixzandra. So much like your mother. See, you got her looks. That charming personality — not so much.” Gram shook her head. “Drew that scumbag father of yours to her like a magnet.”
I was glad I hadn’t eaten any of the spaghetti, or it would have all come back up by now. “You do realize that that ‘scumbag father of mine’ was your son, right?”
“So what are you saying?” Gram twirled spaghetti noodles around her fork with all the innocence in the world. "I’m not allowed to speak ill of my own son? The truth is the truth, Alixzandra.”
“I really don’t want to hear it.” I ran my hand over my hair, feeling exasperated.
I tried to think of all the things in the world that could be worse than this. I thought of starving children in impoverished countries. I thought of hurricane victims. I thought of people maimed in horrible accidents.
And they all seemed to pale in comparison to this situation.
“Get your hand off your hair,” Gram said. “Did you even wash your hands before you sat down? I thought your mother taught you basic hygiene, at least.”
I’d rubbed some Germ-X on my hands from the dispenser we kept by the sink when I came in the kitchen, and I figured that sort of counted. “I did wash them,” I said.
“I didn’t see you.”
“So? Because you didn’t see me, it means I didn’t do it?”
“Watch your tone.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Plenty. You know, for someone who didn’t grow up with the influence of that scumbag father of yours, you sure turned out like him.”
“You know, you’re always saying how horrible he was!” I said. “What was so bad about him? Heaven forbid that you’d actually give a reason for all the s—tuff you say about him.” I couldn’t believe I’d almost said the s-word in front of my grandmother. I’d probably be with my grandfather, godmother, and all my other dead relatives beyond the pearly gates if she’d heard me.
Actually, I’d probably be in the other place, because Gram would see to it that I went there for my foul mouth.
Among other things.
Gram shrugged. “It’s a long, long list, Alixzandra. You name it, he did it. Total hellion, that one. How your mother managed to get him, only God knows. Thank God he passed on when he did, or he’d still be giving her grief.”
“Mom never says he gave her grief.” In fact, she never, ever, ever talks about him, but still.
“She’s too polite,” Gram said. “Your mother is very well-bred. You could do with trying to imitate her a little more.”
“Well,” I said, standing up, “thanks for the history lesson.” I headed for the door.
“Wait!” Gram said. “You haven’t even touched your spaghetti.”
“I feel sick,” I said. “Maybe later.”
Gram wandered out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. “Where were you?”
“At a . . . callback.”
“With that boy?”
I was tempted to lie, but I decided it wasn’t really worth it. “Yes,” I said.
Gram sighed. “Alixzandra,” she said. “When are you going to listen? Boys want nothing but sex. And as soon as he gets you pregnant—” She snapped her fingers. “You can say goodbye. Just like that.”
“Gram,” I said through gritted teeth, “we are not doing anything.”
“I’m just telling you,” she said, and shrugged. I was surprised that she didn’t push it any further. She must have been in a good mood. “Are you hungry?”
“Not anymore,” I said, turning and heading for the stairs.
“Alixzandra, come back here.”
I stopped and slowly turned around. “What?”
“Now, you listen to me. I am sick of your attitude.”
“Well, you’re the one who gave it to me.”
Gram scowled at me, and then shook her head, as though she had decided that scowling wasn’t worth the trouble. “Now what is it? Are you starving yourself? Is that why you say you’re not hungry?”
“I’m not starving myself!”
“Well, you certainly look skinnier. Look at how big your pants are.”
“They’re just a little baggy — I like them that way!”
“I just watched a documentary on those anorexic girls, Alixzandra — I tell you, that is a horrible ordeal. You shouldn’t be doing that to yourself.”
“I’m not.”
“You are not going to starve yourself in my house.”
“This isn’t your house.” I was mad by now. For one thing, it’s my mother’s house, and if anything happens to her, the house goes to me.
Unfortunately, however, if anything did happen to my mother, the court would probably wind up appointing Gram to take care of me for the next couple of years, because my godmother died two years ago.
“That is completely beside the point,” Gram said, looking for all the world like this was indeed her house. “Now, I made spaghetti with chicken, and you’re going to have some.”
I decided not to say anything else and meekly followed her into the kitchen. Whatever else there is to say about Gram, she is a really good cook and I really love her spaghetti with chicken.
I sighed as I dropped into my usual chair at the kitchen table. “Where’s Mom?”
Gram shook her head as she bustled over the stove. “She’s out to dinner.”
“Dinner? With who?”
“She said clients. It’s probably some good-looking man from her office who just wants to get her in bed, if the truth were known.”
The remaining fragments of my appetite instantly evaporated. “GRAM!”
“What?” Gram innocently slid a plate of spaghetti in front of me. I got up to get myself some silverware. “Facts of life, honey. Who knows, maybe he’ll be a better man than that scumbag father of yours.”
I dropped back into my seat, speechless. I wondered if she would notice if I attempted to gag myself with my spoon.
“I’m telling you, Alixzandra,” Gram said, fixing herself a plate of spaghetti, “you’re lucky you don’t remember the man.” She sat down next to me. “Oh, darn, I forgot silverware. Get us some, will you?”
I silently handed her my unused cutlery, and stared down at my plate.
“Maybe your mother will finally have another child. Hopefully, she’ll have learned from her mistakes this time.”
“Well, I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment to you.”
“Well, at least you’re pretty. Of course, that just makes you all the more easy, in my experience, but trust me, Alixzandra, you get away with a lot more when you’ve got looks on your side.”
“I guess.”
“You certainly didn’t get those from that scumbag father of yours, I can tell you that. Sometimes I wonder if he was switched at birth. My family has always been good-looking. Back in the day, I was told I looked quite a bit like Marilyn Monroe. I think it was more my hair than anything. Your grandfather’s side had looks, too. And the charm that man had . . . Devastating combination, Alixzandra. So much like your mother. See, you got her looks. That charming personality — not so much.” Gram shook her head. “Drew that scumbag father of yours to her like a magnet.”
I was glad I hadn’t eaten any of the spaghetti, or it would have all come back up by now. “You do realize that that ‘scumbag father of mine’ was your son, right?”
“So what are you saying?” Gram twirled spaghetti noodles around her fork with all the innocence in the world. "I’m not allowed to speak ill of my own son? The truth is the truth, Alixzandra.”
“I really don’t want to hear it.” I ran my hand over my hair, feeling exasperated.
I tried to think of all the things in the world that could be worse than this. I thought of starving children in impoverished countries. I thought of hurricane victims. I thought of people maimed in horrible accidents.
And they all seemed to pale in comparison to this situation.
“Get your hand off your hair,” Gram said. “Did you even wash your hands before you sat down? I thought your mother taught you basic hygiene, at least.”
I’d rubbed some Germ-X on my hands from the dispenser we kept by the sink when I came in the kitchen, and I figured that sort of counted. “I did wash them,” I said.
“I didn’t see you.”
“So? Because you didn’t see me, it means I didn’t do it?”
“Watch your tone.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Plenty. You know, for someone who didn’t grow up with the influence of that scumbag father of yours, you sure turned out like him.”
“You know, you’re always saying how horrible he was!” I said. “What was so bad about him? Heaven forbid that you’d actually give a reason for all the s—tuff you say about him.” I couldn’t believe I’d almost said the s-word in front of my grandmother. I’d probably be with my grandfather, godmother, and all my other dead relatives beyond the pearly gates if she’d heard me.
Actually, I’d probably be in the other place, because Gram would see to it that I went there for my foul mouth.
Among other things.
Gram shrugged. “It’s a long, long list, Alixzandra. You name it, he did it. Total hellion, that one. How your mother managed to get him, only God knows. Thank God he passed on when he did, or he’d still be giving her grief.”
“Mom never says he gave her grief.” In fact, she never, ever, ever talks about him, but still.
“She’s too polite,” Gram said. “Your mother is very well-bred. You could do with trying to imitate her a little more.”
“Well,” I said, standing up, “thanks for the history lesson.” I headed for the door.
“Wait!” Gram said. “You haven’t even touched your spaghetti.”
“I feel sick,” I said. “Maybe later.”
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