On Responsibility

[LYourLocalAutist]

Around eight and a half hours ago, when Manuel’s parents left for a “day out just for the two of them, so they could enjoy each other’s company”, they’d gotten Manuel to promise he’d take care of dinner for when they were back. It was about 5:36 pm now, and he nearly had a heart attack having remembered that fact. So much for trying to enjoy the first weekend of the school year.

MANUEL "MAÑANA" HERNÁNDEZ - PREGAME START

He scrambled off the living room sofa, jabbed the TV remote’s off button and immediately vaulted right over the sofa to make his way to the kitchen. He grabbed his apron off the rack as he entered and barely registered Rosa, who was leaving as he entered with some Tupperware in her hand. She chuckled seeing him in such a hurry. Passing him, she began to snark.

“Listen, I tried to remind you like an hour ago-”

He sighed as he cut his younger sister off, not bothering to turn around to face her. “I’m working on it, quit dar la lata!” He rolled his eyes and scowled lightly as he heard her cackle up the stairs, looked out at the kitchen before him, and began to get to work.

Step one: Open the fridge!

…Oh my fucking God.

Manuel’s heart was seized with fear as he laid his eyes on the leftover Tupperware of arroz con pollo, the exorbitant amount of lettuce, the randomly placed ground beef and the milk. No shopping had been done over the week. Carajo. Who doesn’t shop over the week? Who leaves their kid with this as his resource for cooking?? WHO TAKES A DAY OFF FOR A DATE KNOWING THIS???

Manuel took a long deep breath in and out. He could work with this. Totally. Absolutely. No problem. Just had to lock in a little. He began taking what ingredients existed out of the fridge, laying them out systematically, and looked over them, beginning to think. He certainly had enough protein he could whip up, and he only really had to cook the ground beef. Could make some hamburgers. The lettuce, he could simmer and pass off as some substitute for collards.

Knowing he had no time to waste, he got to work before thinking any further. Two pans, get one slathered in vinegar and garlic, and the other in oil and salt. As they preheated on the stovetop, Manuel pulled one of the bigger kitchen knives from the block and set about separating the lettuce leaves from the thick, white stems, then chopping them into strips and throwing them onto the pan. He was beginning to get in the zone, now; stress was alleviating. The ground beef was a much easier time to mould and slap onto the second pan.

Manuel sighed in relief and sauntered over to the remaining Tupperware. The rice would make up the meal’s side. Just had to reheat it, season it a bit, and— there was no rice.

Well, not literally, but the Tupperware, as Manuel opened it, seemed mostly pollo and markedly little arroz. Nowhere near enough to, say, feed a family of four for dinner. The grin on Manuel’s face faded and he just stared downward. He was thinking. Thinking as hard as he possibly could. There had to be something he could do. Mac and cheese or some more rice somewhere in the pantries, some kind of side, anything. You couldn’t just have loose meat and vegetables as a meal. His parents trusted him with dinner that night, damn it. He less than anything wanted to disappoint them.

He began to wish he’d just stayed on that couch and ordered pizza.

But amidst all that thinking, something clicked. His eyes widened slightly and his head slowly turned to look at the stairwell to the second floor. He lowered the temperature of what he already had on the stove and made his way up. One floor up, second door to the left; his sister’s room.

He opened the door without knocking and loudly began to walk in, in that way for which older brothers have a distinct instinct. “Rosa, did you-” He cut himself off as he observed his little sister on her bed. She looked at him the way a cow looks at an oncoming train. Right next to her on the bed was an open Tupperware she’d brought up not half an hour ago, crumbs lining the bottom. In her hand was a small, deep-fried ball of dough. The siblings stared at each other for another moment.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Her eyes still locked onto her brother’s, she moved the nugget in her hand into her mouth and slowly, slowly chewed. Her voice came out very slightly muffled.

“We outta hush puppies.”

The house reverberated with the sound of screaming and knuckles rubbing against scalp.

[Manuel "Mañana" Hernández continued in The Gun Show]