Rolen’s body, in desperate need of a two-day sleep, managed somehow to awake a couple of hours later. Perhaps it was realizing it was not meant to be a contortionist. Blinking several times before wincing, Rolen, the stair-descender extraordinaire, stared blankly in confusion for a moment before remembering the slight misstep that currently had him waking up in what was now the strangest of all places he had caught some Zs.
Rolen moved slowly, grabbing his back while rising off the floor. Lifting up his shirt, he noticed a nice-sized, red brush burn on his back. He couldn’t even see the entire thing. Then, glancing over to grandfather clock that set between two windows in the living room, the reality that sunrise was less than two hours away set in and now he was faced with yet another decision.
This time the decision didn’t take long. It would be at least three hours before his mom woke up, made coffee and took her morning jog. If seen, she would simply think that he got up early.
Stepping out onto the porch, he was greeted by a fresh spider web and the humid August air. Checking his pocket, he was relieved that the key was in there. He had had his fill of stairs for awhile.
Turning the radio back on, he turned the knob, but realized nothing worthwhile was going to be on. Rolen was pleasantly pleased when he remembered the drawer with all of the cassette tapes in it. Picking up the first one, he realized it was the perfect one – The Beach Boys!
Rolen’s dad loved the Beach Boys. It wasn’t his only cassette he owned, but you’d never know it because he had them playing full blast all the time. Rolen smiled at the memory of his dad taking his mother and swinging her around and singing The Wanderer by their drummer Dennis Wilson. It was his way, one of his ways of joking with her. Being high school sweethearts, there was never another woman that Rogan Sparks was with or wanted to be with. Megan Better was his soul-mate. Rogan would have her name tattooed on both arms if he could, but he hated needles.
Rolen pushed play. The tape was already mid-song and Rolen sang along immediately.
Let me go home, let me go home
I wanna go home, let me go home
Why don’t you let me home
Hoist up the John B
I feel so broke up I wanna go home
Let me go home
He sang the last line and stopped abruptly while the song kept playing. Rolen stared out the window of the shop and a moment later he, with more force than necessary, struck and pushed stop on the player.