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Organizing for Aiden, I found it and couldn’t help, being in my crush mode – I looked. I saw lots of pictures of Aiden with that girl and lots more pictures of that girl, including some very risqué ones. I’ve seen her naked, in fact. In picture form.
Is Austin having a thing with Aiden’s ex?
Wouldn’t surprise me - a jerk like that.
***
He arrives at 4:20. When he enters, he’s looking at his phone, smiling, and I barely recognize him with that smile on his face. It’s kind of startling, actually, in contrast to the scowl that’s usually fixed in place.
His eyes then move from his phone to me as he shuts the door and his expression changes. Even the air in the apartment feels like it changes and suddenly I’m tense. On alert. Defensive. Feeling like I’m about to get in trouble for something.
I’m at the island with my laptop, working on that story. Because I can’t seem to help myself.
I quickly save the document and close the lid before I hop down and grab my laptop and my phone to take with me.
“Your dinner is in the fridge,” I say, “There’s a ‘reheat’ setting on the microwave that should work great, unless you want me to heat it up for you.”
“I’ll do it. Just need to shower and work out first.”
I move to the stereo and turn the music off before I slip into my room and shut the door without a word of reply from him.
I am determined not to fail at this. Everything will be immaculate in this apartment and he won’t have a thing to complain about again. I’ll be a consummate professional staying out of his way and delivering on making his life here easier for the next few months while banking everything I can and working hard on my stories.
I had a productive day. I cleaned, went grocery shopping, took Austin his lunch, and spent hours writing. Even if it’s stuff I shouldn’t be writing, I figure I’ll count it as practice. ‘
I also did something for my future and enrolled in a writer’s workshop at the library. It’s free and the group meets once a week, starting the week after next. It’s held by a published romance author and I figure I’ll be able to get something out of it.
If not, at least it’s free and it’ll get me out of the apartment for something weekly that’s just mine. I need something that’s for me after all this time of doing things for everyone else.
I’ll think about school in a couple months when this job ends.
Looking after Shane, looking after Dad and Shane before that – it feels like it’s about time I do something for myself that might help me move forward with my hopes and dreams.
After Mom left, I tried to be the woman of the house, doing laundry and cleaning at nine years old. Cooking dinner from the age of ten with little to no thanks from my father whose life consisted of work, the local bar for a few drinks, then dinner and the news followed by a sports or old rerun sitcoms, more news, and then bed. Same thing every day. On weekends he’d tinker in the yard or the garage and go for drives in his classic muscle car and then home, dinner, bar, TV, bed. Sometimes he’d skip dinner and spend a lot of time in the bar, especially once Shane and I hit our teens.
As for our relationship with him, he was always butting heads with Shane for forgetting to take out the trash, mow the lawn, or shovel the driveway in winters or who, when he did do it, didn’t do things to Dad’s standards.
I was determined to give Dad nothing to complain about where I was concerned so I barely asked for anything, got decent grades, never got in trouble and did as much as I could around the house.
Dad wasn’t exactly mean to me, but he wasn’t all that affectionate either. He’s a hard-ass, old-fashioned, and set in his ways.
I had an aunt who was there for me as a girl in ways that mattered: maturing, my periods, stuff like that, and I spent time with her often growing up, but she moved to Florida three years ago to retire and then suffered a fatal stroke a year later. After Aunt Jade died, I felt truly alone other than Shane.
As for Shane, I’m supposed to go see him tomorrow. He’s back in his cell and allowed visitors. I don’t know what to expect and I feel guilty for being relieved that he’s likely safer in jail and at least unable to get his hands on any drugs or get into any more trouble.
As much as I’m sad my brother’s life isn’t his own right now, I can’t help but feel relief that right now I’m only responsible for myself.
