Page 11 of Solo Stan

Elias

The warm air carried an owl’s hoots, which was the only sound other than the crunch of gravel beneath Elias’s feet as he walked up Moodie’s driveway. Lightning bugs flickered against beds of wild maidenhair ferns, a precursor to the even brighter stars above.

“Door’s open!” he heard Moodie call from inside.

Elias went in and sat quietly at the kitchen table. Moodie’s eyes bored into him as they sat across from each other. Elias’s hand moved softly over his chest in a soothing gesture. He then lowered his head even farther to hide his eyes as the fluorescent light in Moodie’s kitchen beat down on him.

“You know better than to wear a hat in my house,” Moodie said.

Elias hesitated briefly before removing his hat. He held it in his hands, absentmindedly folding and unfolding it while keeping his eyes fixed on the floor.

“Look at me,” Moodie said with a gentle command to his voice.

Elias’s eyes scanned the room before he had the courage to meet his uncle’s gaze.

Moodie wordlessly got up from the table and started rummaging through the kitchen cabinets.

He came back with a bottle of castor oil, emptied a few drops into his hands, and rubbed them together to warm the oil.

He reached out to Elias, but Elias instinctively flinched.

“I’m not trying to do you any harm. This’ll help with the bruising,” Moodie assured him.

Elias tried to look anywhere but at Moodie as his uncle held his face in both hands and gently applied the oil underneath his eye with his thumb. Elias barely felt a thing.

“We’re going to let that oil sit for a bit, then we’ll clean it off,” Moodie explained before he got up to start dinner.

The fact that Moodie hadn’t immediately launched into his lecture was disconcerting. His parents barely waited for him to get inside the house before calling him everything but a child of God.

Elias looked around Moodie’s house. His eyes settled on a collection of family photos on the living room wall.

To his surprise, he spotted himself in one of them—a much younger version, around five years old, captured in a kindergarten portrait.

He’d just lost one of his front teeth. And even though there was a gaping hole in his smile, he looked happy.

The smell of frying oil soon filled the house. Moodie stood over the stove, scooping up spoonfuls of batter and dropping them into the rippling oil of a black cast iron. He already had quite the stack of hush puppies on a plate laid with a grease-soaked paper towel.

“Looks good, Mood,” Elias said, going to the refrigerator to grab a soda. He cracked it open and took a sip before settling back down at the round kitchen table.

“I know you’re not just gonna come in here and eat my food without helping. Get up and set the table,” Moodie said.

“Yes, sir, Uncle Mudiaga, sir.”

It was quiet except for the popping of oil mixed with the clatter of the silverware. The air in the kitchen was uneasy, but Elias chalked it up to Moodie knowing he should say something to Elias but having no idea what.

“Hey,” Moodie said as he sat. His neck was tensed as he motioned for Elias to do the same. “What did I walk in on earlier?”

Elias scoffed. “Does it matter? I’m an adult and you aren’t my dad.”

The legs of Moodie’s chair scraped against the floor as he stood.

“You’re an adult. You can do whatever you want.

But not when you’re living under my roof.

I’ve given you space and freedom, but clearly, you don’t want it, so I’m going to give you some rules.

If you break even one of them, I’m sending you home.

You’re right—I’m your uncle, not your father.

I don’t have to deal with this, especially when my business is involved.

” He moved to Elias’s side and leaned over him, bracing himself against the table.

Elias steeled his emotions, looking straight forward as if Moodie weren’t there.

“If you slack off at work, you go home. If you fight, you go home. If you disrespect my space, you go home. And Kai is your coworker. That’s it. Do you understand?”

Elias’s mask fell, and he found Moodie’s eyes. “You can’t be serious. You can’t stop me from seeing someone.”

“Maybe not, but I can give you a midnight curfew and forbid guests in the apartment.”

This was that same noise he heard from everyone—his mother, his father, his sister, his principal, basically every friend or romantic interest he’d ever had. They didn’t like his edges, but they didn’t seem to complain when they could use them.

Elias folded his arms over his chest. “I really thought you’d be different,” he said, his voice completely devoid of emotion. He glanced up to gauge Moodie’s expression, but it didn’t change.

“You’ve got no one but yourself to blame.”

Elias bolted from the table and burst out of the storm door. It fluttered against the vinyl siding with a metallic twang before it returned to its place within the threshold.

He checked to see if Moodie was following him, but he wasn’t. He waited around for a few moments, but his uncle didn’t have kids of his own and probably didn’t know that he was supposed to run after him.

A loud groan echoed from Elias’s stomach. “Why am I so fucking hungry?” he growled. He threw his head back and let out a frustrated breath. “That’s right—because I stormed out before I ate dinner.” He kicked a rock and cursed when it scuffed his shoe. “I love hush puppies,” he whined.