Chapter Text
I don’t understand what’s wrong with my family, and I don’t understand what caused my mom to marry my dad. God, he’s such a prick. I don’t know why he hates me so much. I play football, and I like to think I’m good at it. Doesn’t every father want their son to play football? I’m in a jazz band, but he seems to have an excuse to miss every recital, but none of Natalie’s, and I don’t know why he always does that. Pick her over me like it’s choosing to let air fill your lungs.
It doesn’t stop me from loving her. I won’t let my dad’s favoritism get in the way of trying to be a good big brother. It does hurt when she ignores me like he does…
I wiggle the car keys in front of my dad, bouncing on my toes. His attention is completely absorbed by the mail that had been brought in this morning. I toss the keys from my left hand to my right, growing frustrated, before throwing them by the front door, hoping to get Dad’s eyes to meet mine.
Straightening, Dad walks back to the kitchen, kissing Nat’s forehead.
“Love you,” Dan says.
“Love you too!” Natalie replies, walking out the door.
I mouth the words with her, the three words dying in my throat before they can be properly voiced.
He follows her out the door, closing it with a loud slam.
I watch the front door close and wait for the car’s engine to turn over, forcing the lump down my throat.
“See!” I exclaim, stalking into the kitchen and jumping onto the counter. “It’s like he doesn’t even know I’m alive!”
My mom, Diana, stops her cleaning, her rag interrupting its consistent circles on my spot on the counter. Her blond hair is messy, but that’s been normal for a long time. The dark blankets under her eyes are new, though.
She looks at me, her lips set in a sad line, her eyes covered with sympathy.
“I’m sorry you think that, baby.”
She pauses for a second, her hand holding the rag starting to do small circles again, almost like it’s muscle memory.
Her eyes light up suddenly, making me shift in my spot and lean in closer to her.
“Maybe you and your father need to go on a trip!” She points her finger at my chest, my own finger pointing at me as well, slightly copying her movements.
The apple truly doesn’t fall far from the tree.
“I’ll plan it all.” Mom tosses the rag in the air, cleaning all but forgotten. “We won’t even tell him until your birthday on Saturday. How do you feel about that?”
My eyebrows furrow together.
“So you’re planning a surprise trip for my dad and telling him on my birthday?” A smile creeps onto my lips.
“Pftt! Don’t think about it that way!”
“Do you think he’ll want to go?”
I instinctively crouch into myself like a little kid, a habit I’ve developed over the last few weeks—years, maybe.
The phone rings before she can reply, and I jump off the counter to grab it. I lean over the counter, putting my right foot against my left calf and balancing as I shift my full weight to that side. My right hand rests on my chin as my left picks up the phone.
I miss the first time.
Frowning slightly, I go to pick it up again, but Mom beats me to it, bringing it up to her ear. Her eyes are purely focused on the table in front of her. After giving the other person a few quick hmms, she walks away, putting the phone back in its place before going back to her cleaning.
I wait beside her patiently until it feels like my insides will burn through my entire body. I start waving my hand in front of her face and giving her a few snaps.
I frown again.
“Mom.”
No answer.
“Mom!”
She looks up quickly for a second, seeming like she sees right through me until her gaze catches mine. A smile appears on her face.
“Honey, you need to go to school! Shoo, shoo, you’re going to be late!”
“Okay, okay!”
She shoves me in front of her toward the door, pressing her keys into my hand. I let her lead me outside before turning around and running into her arms for a hug, burrowing my head underneath her chin and matching my breath to hers.
We’re almost always in sync.
I like it that way.
She’s the one to break the embrace, handing me a lunch bag. Mouthing go, she gives me a shooing motion with her hands.
“What if I just skip school today and hang out with you?”
I ignore the rolling my stomach has started doing due to the sandwich in my hand. I push it away from me slightly, just enough that she won’t notice.
With a slight shake of her head, she turns around, walking back through the door and waving at me with a smile on her face.
I walk to her car, moving slower than I was earlier and giving my sandwich one last glance.
I throw it into the garbage can.
“Bam, touchdown…”