Things between me and Anderson have been better than they have in a while. Going down to visit him a few weeks ago and finally finding the courage to talk to him about things was genuinely the best thing I could’ve done. We text at least once a day, FaceTime a few times a week, and it feels like old times.
For the first time in almost two years, I don’t have this constant worry that I’m going to lose him. Plus, the fact that he’s going to be home after next week for summer makes me insanely happy.
It’s Friday, and tonight I’m going to a party to celebrate a classmate’s birthday. Normally, I don’t socialize too much with Western kids. On occasion, I’ll invite them to parties when I throw them at my house, but as far as hanging out goes, it doesn’t happen often.
It’s almost four in the afternoon when I pull up outside of my house. One of the advantages of choosing to go to Western instead of WSU is that I’m able to live at home and avoid housing costs. It’s about an hour drive one way from my house to campus, which isn’t ideal, but whatever. Both of my parents’ cars are here, which is unusual. They’re never home before the sun goes down.
Getting inside the house, I drop my backpack by the stairs, making my way into the kitchen. My phone chimes in my pocket as I’m grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. It’s a text from Kalen.
Kalen: Bro, you going to the party tonight?
Me: Which party?
Kalen: The Western one. For what’s her name…
Kalen: Heather?
Me: If you mean HARLOW, then yes.
Kalen: Dope. Me too.
Me: How do you know about it? You don’t even go to my school.
Kalen: I know everyone, my dude.
Kalen: Just kidding. I used to hook up with the birthday girl.
Me: And you don’t even know her name??
Kalen: Fuck off. Wanna pick me up and we can ride together?
Me: Sure. I’ll text you when I’m on my way.
“Hey, Crew. Didn’t know you were home.” Glancing up from my phone, my mom is walking into the kitchen, dropping a suitcase by the counter.
“Just got home like five minutes ago. Are you coming or going?”
“Both. I got off work early this afternoon, and so did your father. We’re flying out tonight to Dubai.”
“Dubai?!What the fuck is there?”
“Honey, language,” she chastises. “We’re going for a fun little vacation.”
“But Dad and I were supposed to go to the Mariners game tomorrow.”
“Can’t you just take one of your friends, dear?”
Theyalwaysfucking do this. I don’t even know why I bother making plans with either of them anymore. The last time we did anything together was during my junior year of high school. They went to an out-of-town championship game with me. They didn’t come to a single football game my senior year, except the one that cost me fucking everything. Fuck, they barely even came home when I got injured.
“Sure, Mom. I’ll take a friend. Look, I gotta go upstairs and get ready. Have fun on your trip.”
Trudging up the stairs two at a time, I head into my room. Once the door is shut, I turn on some music. Shutting the outside world out like I do best. My pulse is racing, and it feels a hundred fucking degrees in my room as I pace back and forth in front of my bed.Fuck!Why do I always let them get to me like this?
When I was younger, I used to confront them. Tell them how their actions made me feel. Very early on though, I realized it was pointless. They’d either tell me I was being ridiculous and we’d end up in an all-out screaming war, or they’d toss money my way to try to appease me. So, I just keep my mouth shut now.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!Thrusting both hands into my hair, I yank at the strands, trying to calm my breathing. How fucking hard is it to make time for your fuckingchild?!Why have kids if you aren’t going to spend time with them? Yes, I’m an adult now, but still. Even in high school, it was like this.
Fuck them. Thank God I’m going out tonight. Letting loose is a necessity now.