Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
“I know. I’m figuring that out. Right now, so give me a minute to catch up,” I beg. She narrows her eyes, and I add, “Please.”
That seems to set her back a few notches, which is ridiculous. A simple nicety shouldn’t be so foreign that my sister is shocked by my usage of it. Right? Am I that much of an asshole?
Yes.
The truth is . . . I am. Or I always have been. But I can change that. I hope.
“We grew up in different families,” I say, trying to explain a lifetime. “I mean, they were the same, but they were different to us.” I look up, focusing on Kayla. I see her strength and determination, but also her kindness and second mothering. “You got the best of Mom and Dad, and I mean that in the most complimentary way possible. I got . . . nothing. Or at least I felt like I did. I didn’t matter. Cameron and Carter were fighting for top dog, Chance dipped out to do his own thing that he loved, Kyle was being a dick at every opportunity. And I skated by on the outskirts, watching. I’ve always done that, so I didn’t know any of what you said—that you worried, that you cared, that you gave a shit at all.”
I close my eyes, remembering my teen years in a new light. “I thought I was waiting to be invited in, which never happened, and that only confirmed that I didn’t matter. But maybe I didn’t make it seem like . . . I wanted that?” Kayla said they were trying to respect my wishes to be left alone, so maybe that’s what was happening back then too?
“Did you want us to send you a gold-embossed, wax-sealed invitation with your name calligraphed on the envelope?” Kayla scoffs, swiping at her eyes. But her tone is lighter now, like her anger is dissolving as I share my thoughts and feelings. She’s figuring stuff out too, like we’re both finally seeing a full picture at the same time.
I huff out a chuckle. “Maybe? Though I probably would’ve ripped it up and thrown it in the trash,” I confess with a bit of embarrassment.
“You would’ve pissed on it and set it on the dining room table for us to find,” she suggests.
I shake my head. “Nah, that’s Kyle. I wouldn’t have wanted a scene. I spent most of that time wanting to disappear.”
She laughs through her drying tears and nods, agreeing with me. “Are we that annoying?” she asks, the honesty in the question a wake-up call I didn’t know I needed.
I tilt my head, acting like I’m thinking about her question, but the truth is harder to accept. “No, I think I am. How’ve you put up with me all these years?”
I don’t think we need to go through every day of our childhood, memory by memory, or even our adulthood, to analyze what we thought happened versus what actually happened, but I definitely have a lot of personal reflection to do. And I have to reexamine how I’m going to behave with my family moving forward.
“It’s been tough,” she confesses with a heavy sigh, “but I feel like this is better. You?” She points from herself to me. “I didn’t realize how much I had to say on the matter.”
“Me neither. I’m glad you went first, though, because otherwise, I think this would’ve been ‘fuck this, fuck you, and fuck off.’” I mimic my own grumpy, grunty, gruff way of talking.
I know that’s true. If Kayla hadn’t raked me over the coals, I don’t think I would’ve ever seen things from her point of view. And if I hadn’t seen how Janey’s family treated her, I don’t think I would’ve seen the good in my own family, either.
And something else Kayla said comes back.
“Don’t be mad at Janey, ’kay? She’s dealing with a lot.” I place a hand on my own chest so she knows exactly what I mean. “And as much of a shitshow as we are, her family’s worse. I’d really like for you and her to be friends.” It’s as much of a plea as I can make, and it’s still not for me to be part of the inner circle of my family, but for Janey to be.
Kayla laughs. “Are you kidding? We love her! She’s all sweet and nice, you’re this asshole extraordinaire, but she has you tamed. Pulling out chairs, running out to greet her, and feeding her? It’s adorable. She’s like a lion tamer-slash-magician or something,” she teases, which from Kayla is a major compliment. More seriously, she says, “We like her, and more importantly, we like her for you. She’s good for you.”
I can feel heat on my cheeks. Not that I’m blushing. I don’t fucking blush. It’s just warm in here or something. “Thanks. I think so too.”