He just shrugs before starting again. “And there’s my grandmother, but that’s not a fucking option. Sadly, that’s probably who they would have gone to first and there was no fucking way I let that happen.”
I look at him confused as I lie with him and I’m assuming when he sighs, he can sense my curious look.
“My parents didn’t get along with my grandmother. It’s a long story, but the short end is, she essentially skipped out on my dad when he was young, left him with his stepdad, and had very little to do with him.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah, it’s fucked up, and every single time we would see her, she would play the victim’s card. Even at their funeral. And let me just say that my mom and her hated each other. Like my grandmother disliked my dad, but she hated my mom. Anyway, at their funeral she tried to play this ‘I’m the mother I deserve sympathy’ card. She left not even halfway through the service.”
“Why did they not get along?” I can’t help but ask him.
He chuckles to himself, like he’s remembering a fond memory. “Everyone that my mom cared about, she would become extremely protective of them. I think it had to do with her seeing her dad die and then ending up in foster care for a while.”
“What the fuck?” I can’t help but shake my head as I look at him. “How were they, like, well-adjusted?”
“Oh, they fucking weren’t.” He laughs louder, shaking his head. “But they were perfectly fucked-up together. They were obnoxiously in love.”
“That’s amazing to have that growing up.”
“Honestly, it kind of puts a lot of pressure on me.”
“How so?” I can’t help but laugh.
“What if I never find anything that lives up to that?”
“You won’t.” I whisper it, not meaning to, and not realizing it until I feel his head move to look at me again. “Not like you’re not worthy of it or whatever, but things always look better from the outside looking in. This ideal image you have in your mind of what they were. It’s unrealistic because that’s not how they were. I mean, they could have been close, but that doesn’t come without work.” I laugh again, wanting to find my way out of this conversation now. “But seriously, most people wouldn’t give up their life to come and give anyone a safe place to stay.”
“I’m aware.” He shakes his head and starts again. “And Tatum, how old are you?”
“I’m, uh, 21.” I hesitate slightly.
“Why do you say it like you’re unsure?”
“Because I’m not sure if how I normally would have said that would piss you off or not.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m 21, today.”
“You’re 21, today?” I nod my head. “Like today is your birthday?”
“Yes.” I whisper.
“Wait and he kicked you out of the car?”
“Yeah, hence the ‘it would piss you off more’.”
“Asshole.” He shakes his head as he sits up. “Get up.”
“What?”
“Get up!” He almost demands as I sit up, shaking my head.
“Why?”
“Because we’re going out.”
“I have nothing to wear.”
