A large bang startles us as the front door slams and brisk footsteps sound in the tiled hallway before my brother bursts through the sliding door.
“Fuck,” he breathes, huffing, his moist trainers squeaking on the tiles.
“Alexander!” Mum hisses.
“Sorry, Mum. I’m beat.” He leans on his knees and breathes heavily. I pour him a glass of water from the tap, and he walks around the kitchen island to get it, raking a hand through his sweaty brown waves.
“You know, your brother is telling me you have been drawing lately. Are you going to paint again?”
“I don’t know,” I say and sip my coffee.
Wait for it.
“Oh, darling, I wish you would try to succeed at something. Are you going to work your way up froman assistantat least?” she asks.
There it is.
“I don’t know, I quite enjoy it. Take it easy, will you?” I haven’t found a way to explain my move from assistant tointern yet without revealing I’d lied before. Easier not to say anything at all.
Mum makes an indecipherable sound that could resemble a scoff covered by a cough. “Don’t take that tone with me, please. I’m only trying to look out for you.”
I turn away and roll my eyes. I’m well aware I’m the least successful child, and Mum has treated me as such ever since I chose not to study finance, like my banker brother.
And before being the least successful, I was just the youngest. Mischievous little Rosemary. I sure was a self-fulfilling prophecy.
She sidles up next to me. “Are you sure about living here?” she whispers. “I’m sensing Alexander wants to have his privacy. Maybe you should come live with us.”
“I’m fine here.We’refine,” I answer, nodding discreetly toward my brother, who’s plonked down on a chair in the living room. “And soon enough I will get a place of my own.”
There’s no way I’m moving in with my parents. I’m going to celebrate my thirtieth birthday in October under my own sodding roof. Rented, sure, but mine.
“Your father and I have talked. We can scrape together some savings to help you get a proper education.”
“Mum!” I hiss. “I. Am. Good. Stop trying to decide what success looks like for me.” I grit my teeth.
We leave it there. Not because she cares about what I think, but because I stuff a buttered toast in my mouth and turn away from her. The sound of her striding across the tiles tells me she’s done for the moment, and she’s ready to retreat to the living room.
There’s a loud thud from upstairs.
“Beanie!” I shout through the open door to the hallway, my words muffled by the toast. It sounds like he’s spinning around in the bedroom. Ah, well. At least he doesn’t chew mythings anymore. Sniff, yes. Lick, definitely. But no more shredding.
The insides of my shoes are often soaked with saliva, but at least they’re whole.
After practically inhaling my toast, I need to tend to the thundering dog upstairs. Beanie’s snorting is now on the landing, accompanied by the thumping sound of whatever he’s playing with. I walk into the hallway.
“Bean,” I shout again, and I’m about to go upstairs when my phone buzzes on the dresser next to me. I turn abruptly, the hairs on my neck standing as I pick it up.
It’s Robin!
I’m so sorry I’ve been quiet. It wasn’t my intention to ghost you… I was wrestling with some priorities
And who won? I don’t watch wrestling, but someone typically wins, right?
I always win
Does it mean I win too or are you texting to tell me it’s over?
I look up to find I’ve wandered into the living room where the family is relaxing. Dad with his crossword puzzle. Mum, with her reading glasses on the tip of her nose, prodding her phone with a finger. Probably rereading old gossip blogs.
