ON THE WAY

The sun creeps over the horizon, the neighbourhood slowly waking up. Birds tweeting, soft breeze ruffles through the trees, and the odd flags hung on the porches of the residents' houses. Every now and then, the odd car drives through, someone going to or from work in the early hour of the morning. As the sun light reaches over some trees into the gardens of the neighbourhood, the civilians start waking more. A couple more cars can be heard starting and pulling out of driveways, leaving along the road heading into the city and towns surroundings and, clattering from a few neighbours taking out the bins.

The Crove's house is mainly still, a few sounds coming from the surrounding rooms and downstairs. Aurora is asleep on her stomach, a hand under the pillow, as her head rests against it, facing the window. Her nose scrunched, face turning into the pillow as the sun's light works its way through her thin curtains. As she rouses from sleep, turning onto her back rubbing her eyes yawning, she can hear clattering downstairs. Signs her family is up and ready for the day. She reaches for her phone. Her dad's old Motorola V60. She checks for any texts before sitting up.

Her room isn't anything fancy. Her sister's old room that Aurora moved into once she moved out for college. Three out of the four walls are a dusty lavender, the fourth wallpapered with a white background, brown thin stems, and little lavander flowers blossoming off of them. A couple of posters from magazines are tapped to the wall above the desk. A shaggy rug covers most of the wooden floor.

Rory gets out of bed stretching. She adjusts the sleep shorts that have worked their way up her legs in her sleep. She heads out of her room to the bathroom. She does her morning routine, brushing her teeth and hair and splashing her face with cold water before patting it down with a towel. She returns to her room, changing into a tank top and some denim shorts.

Heading downstairs, she hears her mom humming in the kitchen, the smell of her breakfast classic, oatmeal, and bacon, fills her nose. She can hear the grumbles of her father, Bill, and the crinkle of the newspaper he is reading as she enters the kitchen. Her mom, Darla, turns around smiling as she plates up some food in a bowl.

"Morning, Rory. Sleep well?" She asks as she hands her the bowl kissing her head.

"Yeah, thanks." Aurora replies, sitting at the table digging into the food. Mornings are usually slow until around 8:30 a.m. when her parents head out to work. Darla eventually joins the two at the table. They sit in a comfortable silence, the occasional comment from Bill about an article he is reading in the newspaper, and a simple reply from Darla. Bill puts the newspaper down, turning to Rory.

"Ror, you off today?" He asks, finishing a bite of bacon. Rory nods. He nods back, "Think ya can return those tools I borrowed from Joel?" He gestures to the few tools on the side tied together with a rubber band.

She groans. It's not like she had any plans for today, and it's not like it would take long to do. Joel only lives next door, but interacting with her parents' friends is something she always tries to escape out of. Whether it be at dinners they hold, she'll stay in her room. Or at barbecues they host, she'll find a corner to sink into. Her parents' friends tend to be boasters, talking about their life accomplishments, their jobs, kids, and love life. The list goes on. Joel isn't much of a boaster. In fact, he's the opposite. Growing up whenever he was around the silences when they were left alone was almost as excruciating as the 100 questions the other people would ask about her life.

"Why can't you?" She pleads with her father. "Can't you just, I don't know, like throw it over the fence for him to find? Or give it to him this morning before you go?"

Her father shakes his head as he finishes his food. He stands with his now empty bowl. "No, he was out of town for a couple. He only got back late last night, and that man sleeps like a rock, I ain't seeing him before I go." He chuckles as he puts the bowl in the sink. "It'll be easier for you just to keep an eye out, and when you see him outside, run it out to him."

Rory sighs. "Fine, fine." She can tell by the way her parents are clearing up and grabbing their things that there is no time to get out of this before they go to work. She watches them both leave for work before she finishes eating and then wash up.

Her morning is then spent in the living room watching whatever is on. Only her gaze is also on the Millers porch, waiting for Joel to magically appear so she can give him his tools and then do whatever with her day. Until then, she is stuck here watching crappy cable TV.

Two hours have passed since her parents left for work. It's heading to 11 am. Still no sign. She groans, shifting in her seat. She turns the television off with a huff. At this rate, she's going to be stuck here all day. She sets a mental deadline, that if he isn't outside by 11.30 a.m., then she'll just go over and knock until he answers the door.

Luckily, for Aurora, by 11:07 a.m., the neighbour she has been waiting on finally appears on his porch. He has a coffee mug in his hand, and his truck keys in the other. Rory quickly grabs the tools, takes a quick breathe and heads outside.

There's a warmth to the sun beaming down. The breeze is slow and brings a coolness. It is decided there, as she crosses over to his driveway, where he has conveniently disappeared in the passenger seat of his truck, that she will tan outside today and maybe, possible, read one of the many books she has stacking up. As she tries to peak through the drivers window to catch his attention, Rory can hear him mumbling to himself. She rounds the front of the truck, and he's still covered by the open door he is bent into the truck behind.

She can see he isn't wearing shoes, the holey socks irks her into looking away. His usual dark blue, very warn jeans are swapped for bobbled grey sweatpants. She can't see his shirt. She stands awkwardly, tools in hand. Mentally freaking out, hoping he'll just sense her. But what if she scares him when he pops up? What if he never notices her and she's stuck all day? What if this isn't Joel, and it's actually Tommy? That one wouldn't be too bad. She's had pleasant conversations with that Miller brother, so scaring him would be a little joke they can carry into all conversations.

She is quickly pulled out of her thoughts when the passenger door is slammed shut. She jumps slightly, which catches his eye. He turns to her. She can now see the plain black shirt he has clearly thrown on, considering it's inside out and back to front.

"Mornin'" Joel mutters, looking at her as he holds his cup and keys in one hand and a couple of papers in the other. Rory quickly recovers from her scare, clearing her throat. She looks at the tools in her hand, holding them out to him.

"My dad sent me to return these." She blurts out. Joel huffs a thank you. The papers go under his arm as he takes them. She can feel his fingers on hers for just a second before they're gone. She nods and turns on her heels, ready for her escape. Should be easy considering Joel, too, is an escape expert in conversations.

"He fix up that stereo?" Fuck. Rory thought. Easy escape it is not. She turns back to him, scratching her head.

"Uh, yeah, thinks so. Radio was on this morning, so yeah." She said vaguely, on the balls of her feet ready to go once he hums a reply.

"Your siblings back this weekend?" He asks, sipping his coffee, the keys clank against the mug. Of course today of all days, when all Rory wants to do is not talk to anyone and get a sun tan, Joel Miller, renowned mute guy in the corner has suddenly found his voice box and now wants to play 100 questions. She just nods. "Annual barbecue then?" She nods again. "Got any deals for meat at that store you work at?" He leans against his truck as he juggles the things in his arms slightly.

She wants to roll her eyes. But she doesn't. "Yeah, there's the usual on ribs and steaks." Her eyes flicker to his arms as he rearranges the papers and tools. And then back to the label of his shirt. She points, "inside out." He glances down and huffs.

"Great. Uh, look tell your dad I'll sort the ribs 'n' steaks out then." He says as he starts heading to his porch. Thank the Lord. Rory thinks. She nods and then heads back over to her own house, ready to read and tan all day long.