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Pizza Supreme

By Alex Hogan

© Alex Hogan 2009

It was 'meal' night. The one night Mum was almost human. Ever since I can remember on Fridays Mum'd come home, throw her brief-case – well, now it's a laptop bag – onto the couch, flop down to watch the news, and declare, "It's meal night." That meant she would buy a take-away meal for tea rather than cook. That also meant she was happy, and would smile and joke, instead of snapping at us every time we dared enter the kitchen.

After Dad came home, threw his brief-case – I mean, laptop bag – onto the couch and watched the later news, Mum rang for pizza. Sometimes we went out to buy fish and chips, or hamburgers, but often it was just pizza-home-delivered.

I went into my room and tried to get lost on My Space. No use. My ears were pricked for the sound of the pizza delivery van. A few weeks ago on meal night we'd gone out to buy Maccas for my little sister, and after went to the pizza shop. Once inside I stood frozen to the spot, staring at the back of a new employee.

"Ahh, another young worker, they take them every year,” mum said. "But it's good experience, great for the resume. You should try and get a job like that, Matt. And hey, isn't that little Jake? From your old school?"

My old school was the local state primary. After I left I entered the exclusive blazored short-back-n-sides ranks of the social elite. A private school, in other words. I was up at 6.00 in the morning ready to catch the bus at 7.00, arriving in the neigbouring city by 8.30 to start school at 9.00. It took just as long to get home. My friends now came from different towns. By my third year there I had lost contact with my old primary school buddies. Now we were all 17, tall and broad shouldered. I barely recognised myself, let alone anyone else.

When mum said his name the new worker turned around. He saw me. I tried to turn my eyes away, but couldn't. I hadn't seen him since our last year in primary school. He was little then; short, and quick and nimble, great at sport. We played cricket and footy together in his backyard. One Sunday in summer, when his parents were out with his younger brothers, we went into his room. He showed me his iPod. Brand new, a tiny little iPod shuffle, but at the time it was magnificent. He shared the earphones, placing one in my ear while he had the other. As we listened his head slowly moved closer and leant against mine. I didn't move. The warm touch seeped into me, like part of him was invading my body.

We sat that way for a couple of minutes, then he slipped his hand across my groin, and rested it on my crotch. My penis grew hard. He curled his fingers around it. I pushed into him. He took my hand and placed it on his dick, which was not so little. For the rest of that summer between primary and high school, on days when his parents took his brothers away, we went to his room. It was always the same routine; listen to his iPod then start pulling our pants off and beating each other off. Those days were supreme.

Then high school started, and I never saw him again. He went to the local state high school. Our social worlds diverged.

***

My ears pricked. The pizza van was here. I crept out of my room. It had been just over a month since I saw Jake at the pizza shop. We had ordered home-delivered pizza ever since. Jake was a year older than me, he'd have a license, but maybe they didn’t let the young boys deliver pizzas.

Mum cursed, looking in her purse, then she saw me loitering. "Matthew, do you have some money? I'll pay you back; I just don't have any loose change." The doorbell rang. "Quick!" I ran to my room, grabbed my wallet, ran back, and gave her $20. "Thanks, lad." She opened the door. I was still standing behind her, in easy sight of the pizza delivery boy.

"Pizza supreme. That'll be $15," he said. Mum gave him the $20 and he gave her the change.

"Thanks, lad." She said. And that was almost that. Then mum said, "Aren't you little Jake?" My face went tomato sauce red. When he nodded she laughed politely, "Sorry about the 'little'. But that's what the boys used to call you." He smiled. "No longer so little," she said. His eyes flicked up to mine. My face went even redder if possible. Mum continued. "You must come around for a visit. I know it's been a few years, but you two were good mates. And Matt doesn't get to see his old friends much. What do you think, Matt?" She turned to me, "Shall we invite Jake around tomorrow for lunch?"

"Y-yeah. If he's ok about it." I looked at Jake. He was now quite tall, but still slender and delicate boned. He smiled, and looked straight into my eyes, delving deep and finding that part of me where I had kept his memory locked inside.

"I'd love to," he said. I couldn't help but grin back.

"Then that's settled. Tomorrow at 1.00. Oh, no. How about 12.00? I just remembered; Dad and I have to take your sister to netball tomorrow. But that will give you and Jake time to catch up. Ok?" We just kept smiling. "That's settled then.”

The door closed, footsteps crunched on the gravel, the car started up and the lights moved away from our driveway. We went into the TV room and ate the most delicious pizza I have ever had.

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