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Gerard went to see Shelley almost right after school first he dropped his backpack off and went upstairs. He got his notebooks where he wrote all his poems and stories and brought them along.
She wasn't in her yard as usual, but she had left the door slightly open for him as she always did when she wasn't outside. The hall was dark, but the light was on in the kitchen and he made his way into the hall. Shelley was sitting in the living room wearing a blue frock and panty hose, her poofy red hair a mess. She was watching TV and she looked like she had just woken up. However, when she saw Gerard she snapped out of her sluggish state.
“Hello.”
“Hello. What are you watching?”
“Oh. This thing about Charles Manson on the biography channel.”
“Charles Manson is cool.” Said Gerard looking around the living room. It was a lot cleaner then all of the other times he had seen it. Today the room was almost spotless and not a cat was to be seen. Not even Miffy.
“Where are all the cats?” asked Gerard worriedly. She wouldn't give them away, would she?
“Upstairs. Miffy has been asleep all day. So have I, although I just got dressed. What time is it?” She asked as he looked at his watch.
“3:50. I get out of school at 2:15.”
Shelley seemed kind of quiet and tired. The TV was so soft you could barely hear it. They sat on the couch awhile, and then Gerard told her that he had brought some of his writing over for her to read.
“I was wondering what those notebooks were for.”
She said and she turned off the TV.
“Ok, I brought 2 notebooks. This one is poetry, and the other is a novel I wrote. Here, take a look. You can borrow them.”
He handed the two hardcover composition books to her
“I promise I'll return them.” Said Shelley smiling. She put them gently down on the coffee table.
“If you're really sleepy,” he said looking at her, “I could leave you know.”
“No, no. That isn't necessary. I'm awake now,” she said “I'm going to cook us an early dinner. What do you feel like eating? I have everything.”
Gerard watched as she opened the cupboard, and after staring at the contents, strongly agreed that Shelley did have everything.
“Um,” he said “Since I have no idea what half of this stuff is could we have spaghetti and meatballs? I can make the salad.” Gerard offered.
Shelley nodded slowly “Alright. Hand me the spaghetti sauce.”
“Now,” she said as she stirred the pot, “I would like it, Gerard, if you could carefully sprinkle seasoning into the pot while I stir. I'll keep an eye on the pasta.”
Turned out, Shelley had everything but salad, so Gerard got to help with the sauce.
“A special sauce I invented. It's very simple.” Said Shelley.
It was her own private recipe which contained lain tomato sauce, garlic, barley, and various different kinds of herbs. It smelled wonderful and filled the stagnant air with a delicious aroma causing Gerard's stomach to grumble frightfully.
In the oven Shelley baked fresh garlic bread (which only made Gerard's mouth water.) They had the most delicious dinner Gerard had had in a long time and it filled him up, unlike the drippy turkey stew. Gerard tried to eat slowly and politely but his hunger betrayed him and he ate like a little kid, elbows on the table, shoving more into his mouth than he could chew. Shelley ate as if she wasn't really hungry, but was actually eating to humor herself.
“Why do you have so much food in the cupboard if it's just for you?”
