Abby Age Eighteen

Family reunions aren’t my cup of tea. Mom loves them along with parties. She finds any and every excuse to organize one at least twice a month. Abby’s graduation is no exception. She sent invitations to our family and her closest friends. She also demanded my brother’s presence. Sterling, who has only met Abby twice, refused to come until Dad threatened him.

I’m still not sure what it was this time, but it’s obvious that Dad and Sterling’s relationship keeps breaking apart. After two years away from home, he’s changed a lot. His light brown hair is longer, and he sports at least three new tattoos that I can count. He’s becoming everything my father hates from the outside; I hope he’s doing this for himself and not just to piss off dear old dad.

“Are you sure we have to go?” Sterling asks as he runs a tattooed hand through his hair.

“Yeah,” I mumble, checking the time. “Mom will appreciate you joining us—without whining.”

Mom left an hour earlier with Abigail, who’s graduating from high school today. It’s a bittersweet moment for my parents. Their two sons are adults and their last foster child is leaving the nest. This time, nothing will sway Dad’s decision. He said this will be the last time they’ll foster a child no matter the circumstances. They are too old to deal with children.

Abby wasn’t an easy kid. She didn’t trust any of us at first and her night terrors still keep us up at night. However, after a year of our support, she’s ready to go to college. Today, we’re celebrating another milestone. Mom likes to reassure her that she’s part of our family. That’s why she insisted on having Sterling come. My parents want to celebrate this day as a family.

“Of course, you have to go,” Dad scowls at Sterling, handing him one of his ties. “We said formal, Slugger.”

My brother frowns at his childhood nickname.

“I’m old enough to vote, Dad,” he pauses glaring at him. “Maybe you should start calling me Sterling instead of Slugger.”

He hangs the tie around his neck and slumps his shoulders. “Can you help me fix this shit, Wes?”

I can’t help but laugh at the irony.

“Your mother pampered you too much, Slugger,” Dad sighs, exasperated.

“Maybe you should save your allowance and buy one of those clip-on ties.” I laugh while working on his tie. “They sell them in the children’s section.”

“Fucker,” he growls at me.

“That’s all you can come up with, Sluggy.” I let out a laugh that echoes through the great room.

“Boys!” Dad’s aggravation stops our childish argument.

“Yes, Dad,” I say finishing the knot.

“We artists don’t need a dress code,” Sterling defends himself.

My little brother is a sculptor, a painter, and sometimes, an actor. He lives in New York City and attends Parsons School of Design. A place Dad swears isn’t a college, but a very expensive recreation center. Which is unfair. Sterling is talented. He goes to one of the most prestigious art schools in the world. Our father doesn’t understand my little brother and doesn’t even care enough to try.

Sterling has fought Dad’s rules since we were children. Everything between them is a battle. His church attire, when to do his homework, and his bed time. When my parents weren’t home, he’d use the staircase and the furniture to skateboard. At thirteen he was stealing their cars, and at sixteen he raided the wine cellar.

“Buy yourself a suit,” Dad orders.

Sterling’s jaw twitches, but he doesn’t say anything. When my brother moved to New York, he donated all his suits. Hence, he’s wearing one of my jackets that’s a couple of sizes too large.

“That career isn’t going to pay your bills.”

You do, Sterling mouths, chuckling at his own joke.

“Weston, you should talk some sense into this kid,” Dad puts on his jacket. “Are you two driving with me?”

“No, Dad. We’re going in my car. Abby’s taking her driver’s test right after the ceremony,” I remind him.

Abbs and I are celebrating today before the big party. I promised to take her to lunch and then for her driver’s license test. We have a lot to celebrate. She was accepted into Berkeley, and though she hasn’t declared her major, she’s excited about college.

“What about the party?” Dad says gruffly.

“It’s not until six.” I check the time. “We have to leave now, or we won’t make it to the ceremony.”

“Do you want to drive my car?” Dad shows Sterling the key of his Bentley.

“Nah, I’m riding with Wes to get some time in before he ditches me for Abby after the ceremony.”

I give him an inquisitive look but say nothing. Once we’re in the car, I ask, “Why are you avoiding Dad?”

“I just …” he trails off, unable to say a thing. “This isn’t where I want to be.”

“You could’ve stayed in New York,” I mumble.

“Dad’s disappointment is enough. I wouldn’t want to add Mom’s,” he growls. “And even if I had stayed away, he’d call to remind me that if I wanted, he could get me into the business program at DU. Dad can’t accept me, my career, or the fact that I’m not going to take over his little empire along with you.”

He groans, shaking his head.

This ongoing argument creates friction between Sterling and me too. Dad hopes that his art is just a hobby and that he’ll grow out of it, the same way I grew out of my programming obsession.

He doesn’t know that I continue working on the side. I love to create apps, develop new software, and fidget with all kinds of gadgets. The fact that I’m focused on his business doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten what I want to do in the future. I’m not planning on taking over his company either; I just haven’t told him yet.

“You should quit,” Sterling suggests. His voice chirps through the car. “If you don’t do it now, you’ll be sharing his fate.”

I shake my head. He better not start giving me shit about my life and my future. What do I expect? That’s what this family does best, meddling and pointing out one another’s faults or the fact that we’re not reaching our full potential. He’s not Dad, but he sounds a lot like him. Sterling never misses a chance to tell me that I’m fucking up my life by doing what Dad wants.

I’m biding my time, learning the business world while doing what I love on the side. One day I’ll have enough experience to set up my own company.

Once I start the engine his mouth quirks up into a half-smile. “You’ll become Dad.”

Fucker.

I turn on the music and decide to ignore him. In less than five minutes, we’ll arrive at the school.

“There’s nothing wrong with our father,” I say when I park and turn off the engine.

“You refuse to see the real guy behind that suit. He’s cold. A modern Ebenezer Scrooge,” he continues. “The man works during holidays too.”

I leave the car before we begin to argue. Our parents are giving. For years, they took in children who needed shelter. They provided them with love and a roof without questions. How can he refer to our father as a cold-hearted cheapskate?

Slugger is becoming someone I don’t like. An overprivileged playboy who judges everyone around him. I worry about him and his future. When he turns twenty-five, he’s going to be living on his trust fund. Hopefully, Dad set it up so that Sterling can only withdraw a certain amount per year, and it lasts him a lifetime.

“It’s okay, Wes.” Sterling pats my shoulder. “At least one of us respects the man.”

He walks away. Anger churns in my chest. Sometimes I don’t understand him, and the problem isn’t that I don’t try, but that he doesn’t want to face reality. He lives in a world where Sterling is always right, and if we don’t agree with him, then we’re wrong.

The ceremony doesn’t last long, but it feels eternal. The principal’s speech is beyond annoying. However, it wasn’t as bad as the valedictorian’s address where the kid suggested they all let themselves fall into the abyss. Someone should’ve edited the piece before the poor kid suggested that they’re leaving the best years of their lives behind and what’s to come will never compare.

“That was interesting,” Mom says as we walk out of the auditorium. “I liked your speech better, Wes.”

“I forgot that you were the valedictorian,” Sterling says in a mocking voice.

“Aren’t you tired of being so perfect?” He mumbles under his breath.

I try to please my parents, but I’m far from perfect. When I graduated, I gave the valedictorian speech because the night before the ceremony, Merritt was arrested for possession. His daddy couldn’t bail him out of jail in time for graduation. As captain of the debate and speech team, I was the only one prepared to speak on such short notice.

“Aren’t you tired of being a pain in the ass, fucker?” I reply exasperated.

I don’t wait for his comeback, as my eyes are drawn back to Abby who marches toward us. She’s still wearing the red cap and gown and a bright smile. Taking a few steps forward, I hug her tightly and spin her, lifting her off the ground.

“You did it,” I say excitedly.

“We did it,” she responds with a quiet voice. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d be going to summer school, or worse—repeating the entire year.”

“Pfft, you just needed a little push.”

Suddenly, she goes rigid in my arms.

“They’re here?” she gasps.

Her eyes widen, and I put her down when she struggles in my arms.

I look around, searching for whoever scared her, but everything seems normal.

“What’s going on, Abby girl?”

All color washes away from her face, and she’s grasping my arms tightly, as if her life depended on it.

“I’m here. You don’t need to worry about anything,” I say softly.

“Sorry, I thought I saw my stepfather and his son,” she whispers, her head leaning against my chest. “Please, don’t mind me. Sometimes I imagine things.”

“Hey, I get it,” I say soothingly.

I rub her back counting along with her. The anxiety hasn’t gone away. She still has nightmares at night. The trauma she endured before coming to us continues to drag her into the darkness. I hate that she hurts and how she still closes herself off from everyone when the memories of what happened almost a year ago take hold of her mind.

“Stay with me, Abby. Today is an important day. You graduated, and you’re going to get your driver’s license.”

“Linda mentioned a trip,” she says grinning, pretending that the episode has passed.

It hasn’t. Her chest continues to rise and fall rapidly along with her breath.

“Are you coming along?” she tilts her head, her eyes hopeful.

“I wish I could, Abbs.”

Her shoulders slump.

“But I know that Dad and I will join you at some point,” I say reassuringly.

Mom treats Abby as if she were her daughter and never misses a chance to have some mother-daughter time with her. This summer, she plans on taking Abby on a trip around Europe before she leaves for college. She didn’t invite us to come along, but after Dad protested that she’ll be gone for too long, she invited us to join them for a couple of weeks.

“I’ll miss you,” she says chewing on her lip.

“Hey, I promise to call every day.”

“Picture time,” Mom calls out waving her new camera. She’s ready for her trip and if we’re lucky, she’ll take up photography once August rolls around. Mom does best when her mind is occupied.

“Abby, I need a few of you around campus and a couple with the boys.”

“How do I look, boy?” Abby smirks at me and adjusts her long brown curls, bringing the purple tips to the front.

“Purple,” I flick her nose. “Go, pose for the camera. You look gorgeous as usual.”

As she walks away, everything hits me all at once. I realize that the day after tomorrow she’s leaving. That I’m going to fucking miss her a lot. She went from being just another one of my parent’s foster children to becoming one of my closest friends. Sadly, the academic demands at Berkeley might take us from best friends to mere acquaintances once she starts classes.