This Too Shall Pass {Cass}

You know you can't keep letting it get you down.
And you can't keep dragging that dead weight around.
If there ain't all that much to love around,
Better run like hell when you hit the ground.
When the morning comes.

Tonight, I have to go babysit.

It wasn't me who signed up for it, it was my lousy parents. "Oh, honey, we thought it would be good for you to get out of the house." That's pretty ridiculous, I mean half of the time I'm not home. Sure, most of that time is occupied by me wandering the streets like a lost soul. That's what I am though, right? A misguided presence who doesn't know left from right, up from down, and honestly doesn't give two shits about it anyways. Ever since I was thirteen, life has been complicated. A grown-up game of connect-the dots, except I think some of the dots are numbered wrong. I'm sure, eventually, I'll see the big picture. I just hope it comes into focus soon. "Okay," I agreed. "What time?" "Six."

My eyes, tired and grass-green, frantically search for a clock. Implanted into the copper-colored wall, I spot it. The big hand's on the... 6. The smaller hand is on the... 5. "Mom! When... when were you planning on telling you this?" She starts to blush, and I can't tell if she wants to laugh or apologize. Apparently, she wants to do both. "I'm sorry," she snorts. "It's just... if I told you before, you would be able to cancel. Now... you can't change your mind." Although that was coy, and I was a bit jealous of the thought she put into it, I was pretty pissed. No use in arguing, though. "But, you're making twenty dollars per hour, and you're gonna be there till nine-thirty. You're gonna be making... seventy dollars." See, I don't get an allowance because of the lack of chores I do, soe when I heard seventy dollars filter through her mouth, my jaw dropped to the floor. And, I'm sure I'll get a tip. Before, I wasn't to keen on going, now, I'd rather be at some strangers house than this place. I kiss my mom good-bye, bringing a book with me.

From what my mom told me, there are three kids: Connor, Amy, and Silvia. Their parents are going out to a nice dinner and then a play. They should be back at nine-thirty, but no matter what, I'm not to leave the house until they get back. And, for my convenience: they live right around the corner. And you know what else she told me? "There'll be a girl there with you, don't get any ideas..." And then she laughed. I'm still puzzled about why she laughed. It's probably me being paranoid, but I'm almost certain that it's because she knows I can't get a girl.

I wonder who coined that term, get. It has a few meanings in this situation. The prominent one, the obvious one is "doing the dirty." I haven't done it yet (at least with someone else).

You can't stop these kids from dancing.
Why would you want to?
Especially when you're already getting yours.
'Cause if your mind don't move and your knees don't bend,
Well don't start blaming the kids again.

As I round the corner, the landscape starts to subtly shift. My house, which could be considered average for a three-person family, looks about as small as a mouse does when next to an elephant. These houses are like giants. For the second time today, my jaw drops at the lawns as green as my eyes, for the garbage-free curbs. The number of the house I'm supposed to go to is 635. I made sure to bring a watch with me, just to keep track with time. According to my watch - because I'm not too certain it's synchronized - I have ten more minutes. I sigh out of relief, because the house to my left says 437, and I'm assuming it'll take me a while to reach my destination. The weather's slowly dipping, but I can tell. Goosebumps come and go like waves crashing, and so do shivers. Eventually, I reach the house. And, according to my watch, I have five minutes to spare. I would wait outside, plan out everything I'm going to do, but it's pretty cold out here, and the temperature is only lowering.

I flinch as my knuckles hit the wooden doors, taking in more pain than expected. It takes One... Two... Three... Four... Five... Six... Seven... Eight. Eight seconds. "You must be Lyle," the man concludes, offering his hand for a good ol' shaking. I nod and give his hand a firm welcoming. "Eve - the girl you're gonna be working with - should be here any second." I nod, again, and study the guy up and down. Button-up shirt tucking away some flab. Brown hair, glasses. An Average Joe. After a few seconds of just standing there idly, his wife comes to the door. "Hi, Liam, I'm Mrs. Wael, nice to meet you." My name isn't Liam, as far as I can tell, but I'm not going to dare correct that woman. She's... hot. Hi. It's uh... um... Nice to, uh, meet you." Good thing she doesn't reach her hand out, because my palms are sweating bullets.

Usually, I don't get like this around girls, but the way Mrs. Wael's body is shaped, like the curve of a glass bottle. The way her breasts are pushed against her dress, the way her but pokes out in the back. "Okay, we're gonna leave now. Just so you know, Silvia has the brown hair. Amy has the red hair. Connor has... well he's a boy." I thank them and tell them their children are safe under my watch.

At least I hope.

When the morning comes.
When the morning comes.
Let it go, this too shall pass.
Let it go, this too shall pass.
You know you can't keep letting it get you down.