I try hanging on to every word he speaks—he’s my favorite like that—but the soft buzzing of my silenced phone captures my attention.It hasn’t made a peep since we left my place—suppose my reprieve is over.With the screen face down on the table, I can’t see what or who’s messaging me, which tickles my curiosity.
Dad reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a single key with a silver-plated medallion hanging from it.As he slides it across the white linen table cloth, I look down at it with furrowed brows.
“Daddy, what’s that?”
Mom’s nose is turning pink which only happens when she cries.She sits quietly when I look from the key to her and back to Dad.He glances at her, his arm reaching around her shoulders for comfort where he rubs her bicep with his rough hand.
“While we were in Michigan, we got someone’s blessing to give you the Civic.That’s what this is, the key.”
Oh.Wait.OH!
“You serious right now?M…mom that’s your car.”My voice cracks because I can’t fucking believe they’d be dumb enough to give me something that means more to them than it ever will to me.
God, I sound like an asshole.
“We know that, but we want you to have it.You’ve helped me rebuild it; helped your mother grieve without realizing what you’ve contributed to.It was her idea to give you a piece of her childhood, and in turn, some of her when you start the rest of your life.”
What do I say or do?I can’t accept this, but I know they'll park it in the garage at the apartment and break in to put the keys by the front door if I don’t take it.They’re adamant like that.
When you don’t have any words, just shove several bites of food in your mouth and try not to choke.Sharp flavors from before have now dulled yet still blanket my tastebuds and send a zing through my teeth.It floods my nerve endings with the reminder that I’m alive—like all pain.
Having a hard time coming to terms with what they’ve said, it dawns on me that this isn’t a hallucination.It’s not a mirage I’ve built out of thin air while succumbing to my demons—they really want me to have this.To be one with their pasts, just like baby Kaleb.Already feeling like I don’t have any place with them, they go out of their way to show me I do.
My phone buzzes again, interrupting the tense moment between us.Hoping I don’t look as ungrateful as I seemed a moment ago, I smile and reach for the keys.Mom’s in full tears now, not the sobbing kind that makes me feel weird—she’s weeping, brushing away the salty droplets as if she’s embarrassed by them.
At least I’m not the only one who can’t regulate my emotions—apples don't fall far from the tree.
“Thank you.I don’t know what to say.”
“Just take good care of the car, Sugar.That’s all I ask,” she says through a knot lodged in her throat.
Taking the keys, I look them over and inspect the silver medallion I spotted.It’s a sun.Reminds me of the Godsmack logo with its sharp arms and black antique-like wash that’s settled deep into the crevices.
Smiling, I place it beside my phone and change the subject.Back to faking my hopes and dreams, and what I plan on doing after school—hoping it pacifies them enough to move on to something more concerning, like the weather.
Truly, I want to go home and lock myself away.Fighting my own mind for a week, or however long, then venturing into the world as if nothing has happened is exhausting.I want to pop a few sleeping pills and knock the hell out for a good seventy-two hours before resurfacing.
As we wait for our desserts to come around, I finally pick up my phone—Dad smirks, seeing me use the fucking thing without complaining for once.I mean, I could complain, but who would listen.Hell, even if they did, I would still have to get over my aversion.
Unsurprising, it’s Elias.Opening up the chat thread, I look over his previous messages and the new ones.
Klingon
Where are you?
Don’t make me come find you, Sunshine.You know I can, and will.
Me
I’m at dinner.You couldn’t find me with the help of the FBI, you decrepit asshole.
His response comes seconds later—shmuck was sitting by his phone waiting for me.Knowing that inflates my little ego, but we won’t tell him that.
Klingon
Watch your mouth.I have limited patience today and if you get too ballsy, I’ll find something useful for it to do.
Is that supposed to be scary?Newsflash, jerk, there’s nothing you can do that will put the fear of God in me.I look at invisible horrors every day and have yet to die of fright.
