Thirty-four
It’s 5:28 when our father pulls into the garage. He’s earlier than normal, which is bad because I’m in the middle of cooking a take-n-bake pizza James was planning to polish off himself. Sharing it with me, let alone a third person, won’t sit well with him.
Pretending I don’t see our father standing in the doorway, I open the oven to a puff of smoke and inspect the overcooked crust. Damn it. Of all nights to burn dinner, it has to be the one he’s home. He’ll be pissed for sure. I’m surprised he hasn’t started complaining about the smoke.
The door clicks shut, and his keys slide across the countertop, stopping inches from where I’m stooped over trying to coax the gooey pepperoni pizza from the oven rack onto a plate. Short of burning the hell out of myself or starting a fire because I dumped sauce and cheese everywhere, there’s no way for me to straighten or twist around so my back’s not to him. The most I can do is stab the crust with my fork and drag it out faster, cursing everything from my lack of potholders to our broken kitchen timer.
James drifts into the kitchen then, the sound of our father’s keys scraping the countertop an alarm neither of us ever ignores. When the pizza finally cooperates and I’m able to stand up, my brother is directly behind me, arms folded across his chest, locked in a staring contest of sorts with our father.
He wins.
“Better save me some of that,” our father calls over his shoulder on his way down the hallway. “I’m gonna change and we can all eat at the table like a real family.”
Mockery and distaste drip from his words. James opens his mouth to say something, but I touch his elbow and shake my head. That’d be like jabbing sticks at a sleeping snake. No thank you.
Of course, dinner is every bit the nightmare I expect. Beside me, James inhales his portion of the pizza while glowering at our father. Across the table, our father eats his slices while staring at me. He smiles lightly whenever our gazes meet—which isn’t often, I make sure of it—and for a few too-good-to-be-true minutes, I believe that’s all he’ll do.
“How’d school go this year?” he asks me partway through his second slice.
“Fine.”
“You applying to any colleges?”
“I plan to, yes.”
That earns me a hard what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about look from James. His plan to run away doesn’t include either of us going to college and I know it, but there’s no way I can tell him about Sam and UCLA.
“Apply to GFCC,” our father says. “I don’t want you too far away.”
I know I can get in somewhere more prestigious than Granite Falls Community College. I open my mouth to say as much, but James beats me to it.
“Sarah can go wherever the fuck she wants to go,” my brother says in a dark voice. “The farther away from you, the better.”
James shoving away from the table and stomping down the hall effectively ends dinner. When our bedroom door slams and he cranks Godsmack to an ungodly level of loud, my gaze locks on my plate and the narrow, untouched sliver of pizza I allotted myself. Please don’t talk to me, please don’t talk to me, please don’t talk to me…
My father doesn’t bother trying to talk over the music, which I’m sure everyone in the neighborhood can hear. When he gets up and heads to the garage for another beer, I dump my pizza in the trash, set all of our plates in the sink, and slump off to lock myself in with James.
He’s lying on his back, hands folded behind his head. One look at his face and I know he won’t be speaking to me tonight. I try anyway. Turning off his iPod, I say, “That was a disaster.”
No answer.
I sit on the edge of his bed, my back to him. “I’m not sorry. College is something I think I’ve always wanted to do. I just didn’t realize it until now.”
Nothing.
This time his silence irritates me. Once again, he’s trying to make me feel bad for wanting my own life. I’m sick of his guilt trips. I’m sick of him.
“Can you blame me for not telling you?” I demand. “Look at how you’re acting now that you know!”
“I give you everything I have. Everything I am.” He shoots me a harsh glare. “I give you all of that and you were going to leave me without saying anything? Nice, Sarah. Real nice.”
“I was going to tell you once I knew for sure,” I protest. “I have to actually apply and get accepted before we need to worry about any of that. I’m not as smart as you, remember?”
Jaw clenched, he tries to stare me down like he stared our father down in the kitchen. Guilt eats away at my heart. He has given up everything for me. But if I’m going to diffuse the situation without giving up what I want, I’ll have to pick my words very, very carefully. I gingerly rest my palm on his knee.
“College is important,” I say. “You can come with me. You’ll get in, easy, and I want you to come with me…”
My voice wavers and fades away. It’s a lie.
And he can tell. James can always tell.
With one last glare, he shoves past me and grabs his keys.
I slam my fists into his mattress, into his pillow. Why is my life so screwed up? No matter what I decide, I’ll either piss off someone I love or ruin their life. James or Sam. James or the already-fragile dreams I’ve finally allowed myself to have. James or a future. James, James, James.
My brother slams the front door and drives away. I smother my scream of frustration in his pillow. I am alone in our house with our father. If I scream and he hears me, he’ll know I’m still here. If he knows I’m still here, who knows what will happen.
I’m not ready for the other shoe to drop anymore.