Yet here she is, excitedly dragging us out to dinner and giving me a chance to zoom in on my target.
Thanks, little sis. Perhaps I misjudged you.
Doubtful, though. She’s probably up to something.
It’ll be interesting to see what our dynamic will be like as a trio. We have a complicated history, putting it mildly.
When we were young,Lila was an awkward and annoying presence in my life, much like Kenzie was. Show me one guy who enjoys interacting with his little sister and her friends, and I’ll show you someone who’s full of shit. Spoiler, it’ll be the same guy.
Lila wasalwaysat our house, following Kenzie like a lost puppy dog. I figured she didn’t like being at her own home, but I didn’t care to know why.
I always detested her friendship with Kenzie, never quite figuring out why it irked me. There was just something I couldn’t put my finger on. An unsettling twitch in my gut. Was it jealousyor something else? Instead of handling it like an adult, I was an asshole to both of them.
Looking back, I wonder if I was trying to protect Lila in my own stupid way. She always seemed so vulnerable, and I didn’t want her to suffer like I did growing up in that house. Especially knowing she had a rough home life of her own. Perhaps I was pushing her away to spare her the toxicity that brewed in our family.
I don’t know.
Guess it doesn’t matter much now. We’ve changed a lot over the years. And given my current situation, I can't avoid her any longer.
And honestly, I don’t want to.
Truth be told, I haven’t wanted to steer clear for a long,longtime.
I can pinpoint the moment it all changed with a sharpshooter’s accuracy. It was the very day I returned home after graduating from college. What an unexpected welcome home that turned out to be.
Reed - Age 24
After I pull into the driveway, I cut the ignitionand sit for a long few seconds. My eyes fix on the closed garage door as if it holds some magical power that will compel me to get out of the car.
Part of me wants to drive away and never return. Technically, it’smostof me, not just apart.
For the last few years, I’ve used college as my excuse to avoid this place. And these people.
Myfamily.
Well, the closest thing I have to a family. I was adopted when I was four. Right before my adopted mother found out she was pregnant. I went from beingthe child they couldn’t conceive but always wantedto being theextra mouth to feedpretty damn fast.
While it wasn’t an especially tragic childhood, we never interacted the way I imagined a family should. In this house, everything has always felt transactional, for lack of a better word.
I can only imagine how different things would be if they hadn’t adopted me. Would the void inside me still be this cavernous?
No point in wondering about that since I can’t turn back time.
Now that I’ve graduated and finished my internship, I couldn’t come up with a good enough reason to stay away forever.
So I came home.
In the movies,coming homealways seems like this life-changing experience. We’ve all seen those films where the main character is down on their luck, so they go back to their roots, returning home. Naturally, that fixes everything. By the time they leave their family home, they’re whole-hearted and recharged. Because at home, they simply fit. No effort required. You don’t need to impress anyone. There’s no artifice. They love you exactly like you are, faults and all.
Because in fiction, there’s an unwritten rule thatfamilyequalsbelonging and unconditional love. It’s like slipping into the perfect-sized shoe with just the right amount of cushion and support.
Real life—at least mine—isn’t anywhere near that fantasy.
For me, it’s like shoving the wrong key into a rusty lock and trying to force my way inside. And when I do, it’s judgment, toxicity, and veiled hostility that greet me.
Instinctively, my hand moves to the car key that’s still stuck in the ignition. I’m vibrating with the urge to start it back up and shift into reverse.
But I promised Dad I’d come home for a few months.
