“Yeah, it’s just been hard for your mother and I to really reconnect ever since-”
I zone it out. I don’t want to hear what they’re going to say. I already know.
Since Sophie’s death. But this can’t be right. They don’t fight, everything seemed good. What do they mean they’re getting a divorce? And how are they being so calm about it?
But I can’t say anything. I don’t know how. Just like when Sophie died. I tried and tried to cry. Tried to yell and shout and be angry. To be sad. And I felt it. Deep down I felt the pain flood me like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. But I just couldn't say anything.
And now, I just don’t know what to say. I can’t find the words. These are my parents. The ones who took me in when my birth mom abandoned me. When she left me there to rot. They took me in and gave me a home. They showed me what it was like to be loved. They’re the last things I have left. And they’re just going to give it all up?
I drown out whatever it is they’re saying. Probably words of encouragement and how nothing has to change. But it already has. Everything has changed. I lost my sister and I’m losing my future. I’m about to lose my best friend if I keep tiptoeing behind his back with my feelings for his sister. And now, I’m losing thelast thing I truly have left that gave me hope for a better life. For love.
How could they do this to me? To Sophie?
I don’t know what they expect me to say. With how calmly they’re being, it’s like they want me to just be okay and move on. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do that.
I push myself from the table, getting up and walking away. Not a word to spare. But I feel it. It hurts. It’s a sting of betrayal that I don’t want to show them. I don’t want them to know that I’m mad at them. That despite what they say, this isn’t going to be okay.
I enter my room and the air feels too tight. Like my presence is no longer welcome. Like I don't belong here. But this ismyroom. My room and all I have to show for it is the false memories built on a family that is crumbling by the second and there’s nothing I can do about it.
The urge to slam my fist into something is strong. And I don’t know where it comes from because I’m not a violent person. I’ve never acted out of anger like that ever, but I feel it in my bones. I want to be angry.
I turn to my trophy shelf, and I think I could do it. I could destroy it. It doesn't matter anyway, not when my future is drowning in the ocean with not a lifeboat in sight.
I walk toward the wall, every single trophy glinting as the last of the sun dips below the horizon, filtering in through my window.
I remember the feeling of getting my first trophy, the way my heart bloomed in my chest when I felt just how amazing it was to be doing something I loved and to be recognized for it. I never took that feeling for granted, even though over the years, the recognition just kept racking up and soon it started to feel transactional, kind of. Maybe that’s not the right word. But I started to feel pressure at being the best, even if I already was.I can’t get better than I am, so I had this desire to push and be better and better.
But when I lost my sister, I lost a piece of hope. I lost the bind to part of my motivation. She looked up to me, and now she’s looking down on me. And now, with nothing to show for it besides a wall full of bling and a family that is falling apart, I just don’t see the point.
I feel my fist forming at my side, my fingernails digging into the skin of my palm.
Why does it matter anyway? It’s just a dumb, over-glorified kids sport.
Why do I matter when everyone and everything I love is leaving me.
I raise my fist, ready to do some damage and right as I begin to swing, my phone goes off in my pocket.
I drop my fist and reach for my phone.
It’s Cadence.
Everything stills when I realize what I was just about to do, what’s going on in my head. And then I feel this sense of calm wash over me when I see her name light up on my phone.
I turn toward my bed and sit at the edge, opening up her message.
Hey, are you home?
I should be out on that date right now, so I wonder what caused her to ask me.
Yeah.
I want to tell her about the news my parents dropped. I want to talk to her about everything honestly. I want to call her andhear her voice, knowing that she has this impressive power to make everything seem less big. Less heavy. To make it quiet for a moment. But that’s too much to put on her after all the drama I’ve already involved her in.
I overhead Zach say that you cancelled.
I did.
Everything okay?
