Too Keen For Me

Chapter 4: He Pushed Me

Song for the start of the chapter!

As I pulled into the drive, I watched the sun set behind my house knowing I was two hours late from when I said I would return.

I took a deep breath, reminding myself to breathe as I braced for the conversation that Mom and I would have. Tristen was the child that she always had to worry about. I was always home when I needed to be. Being home late and with a wrapped hand would cause her to flip out, I was sure of it.

I walked through the front door as the smell of lavender filled the hall, hugging my senses. Mom started diffusing lavender once Dad got sick, but I think she continued to do it to help calm herself. "Hey, Mom, I'm home."

"Hey!" Mom called out from her office. "I have a late-night meeting, so can you cook a meal for you and your sister?"

A strange kind of relief filled me knowing I would survive her wrath. But a lump of disappointment still formed in my throat. She didn't notice how late I was. With Everly unfed, I wondered if she'd even eaten herself. "Sure."

Mom used to be more observant. I was sure that was why Tristen started to party more. He wanted some attention, just like all of us.

I walked into the empty kitchen and pulled out a box of mac and cheese, not having enough energy to cook an actual meal. "Everly! Are you hungry?" I called out to her.

"Oh my goodness! Yes! FOOD," Everly said from somewhere in the house. A second later, she appeared on a wooden beat-up bar stool, looking at me with a frown. "What happened to your arm?"

I held up my arm as a smile slowly appeared. "I punched Isaac in the face."

She leaned back in her chair as she shook her head. "It's about time you took a swing at him. We all know he took his fair share of swings at you."

He may have hit me verbally and hid it from many, but Everly saw through his act. At least she hated him just as much as I did.

"As much as I want to believe you actually did that, I have a feeling that you didn't. So spill."

Of course, she knew I didn't have enough guts to hit him. I don't think I would ever have that much courage. "I went to the skate park with Zoe, and I actually tried to get on the board again."

"Really? How did that go?" She leaned forward and placed her head in her hands and stared eagerly at me.

I held up my arm as my response.

She chuckled. "You've been away from it for too long. You're rusty even if you have a natural talent for it."

Memories of Dad showing me how to do tricks flooded my mind as hard as I tried to fight against them, causing tears to prick at my eyes. Standing on that board today, without him beside me made me feel like a fish out of water. "Dad had the real talent," I said as I put a pot of water on the stove to boil.

She nodded in silence.

The air felt like it was sucked out of the room every time Dad was brought up. He was the air we all needed to breathe and without him we were slowly suffocating. We didn't know how to have a conversation about him without breaking into tears. So bringing him up was impossible. Dad had quickly turned into someone that haunted our thoughts, consuming our mind like a raging fire.

"Have you ever thought about keeping up his legacy? Like, you aren't skating selfishly, you just want to keep his memory alive," she asked finally.

I had thought about it, but every time it pushed me to melt down. It was just easier to cut that hobby from my life.