Luca
It’shard to believe that in a few months I will be leaving home and going off to college. I always wondered if I would even make it to college, or if I would end up as just another statistic, lost in the world. Honestly, I’m proud of how far I’ve come and all that I’ve accomplished in my life, especially given the things I’ve had to deal with.
Going through what I did when I was younger can fuck with your head. Hell, sometimes I wonder if one day all the bullshit is going to catch up to me and I’m going to lose my battle to stay afloat. I can’t say that I really dealt with what happened to me. I don’t think bottling up, masking, and a whole hell of a lot of “fake it till you make it” are recommended healing strategies, yet here I am. I’m doing just fine.
I graduated high school—with honors at that—and am getting ready to start my journey at the best school this state has to offer: Washington State University. If you’re from here, you know the age-old rivalry between the two universities. Either you’re a University of Washington Husky fan or a Washington State University Cougar fan—and you will be judged based on your choice. My family are Cougar fans, through and through. WSU has always been the dream, a far-fetched dream it felt like for many, many years, but a dream, nonetheless.
I remember the jealousy and the secret pride I felt last year when my stepbrother, Branson, got accepted into WSU. Between the two of us, his acceptance into the college came as the biggest shock. Branson and his mom, Sarah, have lived with my dad and I for almost a decade now, and school has never been Branson’s main priority in life.
Don’t get me wrong, he’s smart as hell and has the potential to go far in life. But he often focuses his time and attention elsewhere. On men, for example. My cocky, sarcastic stepbrother is super gay and has no qualms about flaunting his love of dick any chance he can. By no means do I have any issue with his sexuality, but he takes the term playboy to a whole other level. Dude can get any guy he wants; gay, straight, taken… it doesn’t matter. If he wants them, he’ll get them.
Objectively speaking, I do get it. He is an attractive guy. He has the whole rocker vibe going for him, with black, slightly curly hair, dark eyes, and tattoos taking up residency over most of his body. It also probably helps that he clearly knows his way around the gym. His golden skin pairs beautifully with his defined muscles.
If I were into men—which I am not—I could see the appeal with Branson.
As far as step siblings go, I got pretty lucky with him. I was only about nine when he came to live with us, and was equally nervous and excited about his new part in my life. On the one hand, living my whole life as an only child, I kind of got used to running the show, which included getting all the attention and never having to share my stuff. On the other hand, every little boy wants a cool brother.
While Branson isn’t much older than me—only about a year—he has this effortlessly cool, mature presence about him. Even though we aren’t best friends or anything, we still get along and can hang out together without tension or weirdness, although the last couple of years haven’t felt as easy. I’m not as close with him as I used to be. I’ve mostly chalked it up to him going off to college and figuring out who he is outside of Bellingham and our family.
Speaking of stepfamily, a lot of kids would hate their parent’s new spouse, especially after having to watch their other parent die. Not me, though. After losing my mom at such a young age, it was nice to have a motherly figure around again.
Sarah was easy to accept and love. She was kind and warm, and she baked all kinds of goodies. And to a nine-year-old boy, that’s like winning the lottery. She also cooked, which is a lot more than I could have said for my dad. After my mom died, we often had takeout, because not only did he work a lot, but he couldn’t cook to save his life. He could burn water without even trying.
Another reason I took a liking to Sarah so easily was because she never made me feel less than, or like her “real” son meant more to her, which was nice. You often hear these horror stories about stepparents treating their stepkids badly, or at the very least, treating their children better than their stepkids. I like to think I got lucky in that aspect too.
“Babe, are you in here?”
I can hear Courtney coming in the front door while I’m in the kitchen making lunch.
“Yeah, Court. I’m in here.”
We’ve been dating since we were both about sixteen, so for around two years now. Her family has lived down the street from mine since we were in elementary school, and we’ve known each other almost our whole lives. We don’t run in the same circles, and we were never really friends prior to dating. It was unexpected, yet somehow, the relationship stuck. One Saturday night, she went home after a party but quickly realized she was locked out—with her key inside. Her parents were out of town that weekend, so she came over to my house since she knew me from school.
I let her crash at my place for the night because Dad and Sarah were also out of town that weekend, and Branson was out with some guy from school. Since it was just Courtney and I, we decided to indulge in some of Sarah’s fancy “imported from Italy” wine and watch movies. One thing led to another... and we’ve been together ever since.
It hasn’t been without its struggles, though, and our relationship has always been off and on. She’s a laidback girl to hang with when we aren’t arguing, but more often than not lately, we are arguing.
She’s coming to WSU with me in the fall, so today we’re going to drive up to tour the area again and chill with Branson for the weekend. It’s about a five-hour drive, and I wanted to leave early this morning, but she went out with her friends last night and wasn’t ready to head out yet. So instead, we’re leaving now and staying in a hotel tonight, then we’ll tour tomorrow.
“Are you ready to go, babe? It’s a long drive, and we need to get going.”
“I’m aware of how long the drive is, Courtney. I’m the one who wanted to leave earlier than this, but you were too hungover to pull yourself out of bed. I’m making a sandwich and then we can hit the road. Do you want one?”
I didn’t mean for that to come out as harsh as it did, but her priorities are so fucked up sometimes. Had I known she was going out last night, I probably would have gone on this trip without her.
“Wow. I’ll fucking wait in the car,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Lose the attitude before you join me,” she spits out before leaving the room.
Sometimes I really wonder how we are still dating and why the fuck we are heading off to college together. At this point, I feel like our relationship is one of convenience more than anything.
Once I lock up the house and get into the car, my phone automatically syncs up with my Bluetooth. Ghost Town by Benson Boone turns on, and the lyrics hit a little too close to home. I can’t help but wonder if Courtney feels the same way.
Refusing to read too much into the feelings brewing inside of me, I start our trip east. While the drive from Bellingham to Pullman is extremely long, the scenery is gorgeous. Our hometown, Bellingham, is a beautiful place to live, with the mountainous views and glacier lakes all around. The views, along with the mild temperature most of the year, make this area perfect for hiking and kayaking, both of which I enjoy doing frequently and will miss when I leave in the fall.
If nothing else, the Pacific Northwest is breathtaking. The eastern side of the state has its own appeal, but it isn’t as green and beautiful as it is here on the west side.
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