"Right," I answered, not believing him. In their free-spirited lifestyle, Butch and Buttercup believed that talking about everything, including sex, in front of me was perfectly normal. To them, sex was as natural as breathing and nothing to be ashamed of. Natural as it may be, sex topped the list of things I didn't need to know about my parents.
Within minutes, Butch spotted our street and turned left down the narrow lane. We found our new house nestled between a large beach home that was a monstrosity in comparison and a modest cottage that was much like ours. Butch parked in front of the cute detached garage that right off the bat, I surmised had endless possibilities. Sliding the groaning van door open, I stepped from the vehicle and approached the garage with anticipation. The door looked like something you would find on a barn. As I wiped away a bit of dirt from the window and peered inside, the first bit of real excitement began to grow inside me. This garage might just make this move tolerable.
"Rainbow, help us move these boxes inside before it starts to rain," Butch said, walking past me with his arms loaded.
"Just Rain," I corrected.
"Just Rain," he repeated, smirking at me.
"Grrrrr, Rain. Would you like me to call you by your given name?" I threatened. "Creston Leroy."
"Bite your tongue," he said, looking around horrified that someone might have heard.
"Rain," I prompted.
"Rain-n-n," he said, dragging out my chosen nickname. "Help Buttercup, please."
"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" I asked.
"It's like asking a dog not to scratch its fleas. We instinctively itch to call you Rainbow Love—" He cut off as I glared at him.
"Can we discuss this later?" Buttercup asked, scurrying past with a couple of duffle bags as she indicated the ominous gray clouds that had rolled in. As if to prove her point, a low rumble of thunder shook the ground, letting us know a storm was coming. Kicking it into high gear, the three of us made frantic trips to move everything from the van to the covered walkway that separated the garage from the house. Butch was sliding the stubborn van door closed when the first large raindrop plopped down on my face. We stood under cover, watching as the sky opened up like a god was dumping buckets of water on the world. The ground quickly became saturated and the downpour flowed along the barely noticeable slope in the driveway and pooled at the bottom near the street. After ten minutes, the rain abruptly stopped like someone had turned off a faucet, leaving the air heavy and sticky. We became drenched in sweat as we carried our junk into the house, but at least there was a nice breeze from the ocean. I had to admit, it still beat the brutally hot, dry summers back in Kansas.
Loaded down with duffel bags, I walked into the house and couldn't help giggling at Butch and Buttercup, who stood gawking at the furnishings in our new home. Gone were the handpicked garage sale treasures from our old house that held little more than garbage heap appeal. It would seem my grandparents had a taste for floral prints. It was as if a flower shop had barfed on every piece of furniture in the house. Even the heavy drapes that blocked out the sun were covered in roses the size of dinner plates.
"Well, you guys always said you wished you could live among the wildflowers," I piped in, trying to keep a straight face.
"Yeah, wildflowers, not some freaky tea room from hell." Butch shuddered as he noticed the large vase in the corner of the room that was filled with artificial flowers. Judging by the ample amount of dust covering them, my guess was they were older than me.
"Don't worry, babe. We'll fix it. A few throw blankets, new curtains from Goodwill, and a few dozen trash bags for the stuff we don't want and it'll look like home before you know it," Buttercup reassured him as I began to get a lay of the land. Leaving the living room through a hallway, I discovered a master bedroom with the most hideous wallpaper I had ever seen. Butch was sure to have a seizure when he saw it. Moving on, I found the second bedroom that was supposed to be for me. Thankfully, it wasn't half bad. Somehow, it had escaped the floral print disease and had pale blue walls and light, breezy curtains instead. It must have served as an office/guest room since it held a desk with a dated PC on one side and a white daybed covered with a patchwork quilt on the other side. It was kind of charming, but wasn't for me. I had other plans.
"I wouldn't go in there," I told Butch as he started to open the master bedroom door.
"How bad?" he asked.
"Like the movie The Exorcist, but with flowers," I answered.
"Serious?" he replied, backing away from the door like there was a venomous snake inside. "You can have this room," he said generously, trying to steer me toward the horror beyond the door.
"No way. That's all you," I said, putting on my game face. "You guys said I would get first pick of the rooms to make up for the bee incident," I reminded him, setting my trap.
"I'd gladly take your old beehive room if it's as bad as you say in here," he said, jerking his head toward th
e door he had yet to open. "Come on, where's the love for Dad? You can't make me sleep in a room that will give me nightmares even while I'm awake."
"Hmmm, I don't know. A deal is a deal. After all, I was pretty traumatized to wake up to a room full of bees since you decided having a hive in my wall wasn't a big deal. I mean, I did get stung a few times, if you remember."
"You're right. In hindsight, maybe allowing a hive of bees to remain in the wall of my daughter's room wasn't the best idea, but I'm a lover of all creatures, bees included. Please switch. I'll do anything."
"Anything?" I asked, having him right where I wanted him.
"Anything," he emphasized, edging closer to the good room.
"Fine, I want the garage."
He paused, looking confused. "The garage? For what?"
"For my room. I took a peek through the window when we got here and except for a few boxes and a good sweeping, it's perfect. It's got enough windows for ventilation and I even spotted a gardening sink in there, which means it has plumbing. Plumbing means my handy-dandy parental figure could install a toilet and a few walls for privacy."