Fragment #6 - Maintain

I'm sitting in my living room with my sister. I'm having trouble right now trying to figure out when it will be the best time to discuss what I learned from my father on Friday. The door bell goes, I glance over at my sister who is busy rolling a joint so I figure that it must be up to me to go and answer the thing.
Answering the door to my house is always one of those hold-your-breath moments. Although I can usually safely assume that the person I’m opening up to is a non-combatant, you never know if it’s the guy from downstairs complaining about the noise level being above six decibels, brandishing a severed dogs head and a cleaver, he always seems to be in some state of undress too, which begs more questions than I want answers to.
“Hi John.” Johns reply, as always is short and sweet, he just barges past me stuffing the bag of munchies he's bought into my arms and he goes through to where ever the noise and/or smoke is billowing from.
I was expecting to see a look of shock on Johns face at seeing my sister on a week night in my flat, but then I remembered that she’d phoned him about an hour ago.
“You told ‘em then?” I would like to point out here that he has so far not said a single word to me yet. Yes I know sour grapes.
“Yes, I told my parents first, I’ve moved into Eds spare room.”
“That bad?” I decided to leave them to it for a while, I’m not one for sulking, but I could feel myself doing so now. Action had to be taken immediately.
“John, roll a joint, Lynne, change the CD, It’s doing my nut in, I’m on tea duty.” I left them to complain to an empty doorway and went through to the kitchen; I’d forgotten the tidying frenzy of just a few hours ago, so I had no idea where anything was. Actually I never have any idea of where anything is in my kitchen; it’s one of those places that I use primarily because it contains a kettle and a microwave. I tend to venture in there as little as I can, the fact that things live in the place does put a damper on the relationship, I have likewise been informed that said living things will also be breeding within those walls, although I have to admit I find this unlikely, even the vilest of beasties would have trouble getting into a romantic mood in those surroundings, lets face it my kitchen could give a fourteen-year-old boy with a copious amount of one handed magazines a case of Mr Floppy for about a week and a half.
There is something about waiting for the kettle to boil when your in a mildly incapable state, the thing is that most of the other people in the house tend to in the same boat, so you’re on your own. This has a number of benefits, partly you get to try and think up things to say later on and therefore appear witty, the second is that you get free reign of the kitchen and its contents, you get to grab as much ice-cream as you feel like and they can’t do anything about it. Smoking is a social effort, there is no ‘I’ in team, so fuck off and leave me alone.
I have to maintain tonight. I have to pretend that I'm not confused as to who has been the bigger arse-hole. I have to be nice... till tomorrow. Yes tomorrow.