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Jake will watch, with some
sort of bent satisfaction.
Hunter will cry, and I’ll bloat
with guilt for not loving him better.
By the time I reach the front
door, I’ve built a barrier against
all that. Don’t want to hear
it. Refuse to hear it. All I want
to do is lie on my bed, listen
to music through headphones,
think about being with Trey,
dream about the semester break.
Suddenly I feel angry. Out
of-control pissed off at the world.
I yank open the door, slam
it shut behind me. Scott stomps
in from the kitchen. What the hell
was that about? Did you have
a fight with your boyfriend?
The last word drips vitriol.
If you think you can disrespect
my house in this way, you’d
better think about living
somewhere else. Understand?
Obviously, they’ve been
discussing options. Like
kicking me out of here. Mom
comes up behind Scott, carrying
a smiling Hunter, and it comes
to me that I have the means
