Page 10 of Sending Love Letters to Animals

“Why is Juno here?” I asked.

Mom continued to lay against the back of her chair as her tongue rolled out of her mouth lazily.

“Mom.”

She mumbled incoherently.

“You’re not even funny.”

“I’m a little bit funny,” she mumbled.

“Not even a bit.”

Mom sighed with a roll of her eyes and sat up in her chair.

“Your sister lives here.”

“No, she doesn’t,” I said. “She lives in her dorm.”

“She’s part of this family.”

“She’s a pain in my ass.”

Mom laughed sharply. “You’re both a pain in my ass, buddy boy. I still allow you to live here, don’t I?”

“I am not a pain in the ass!” I proclaimed, though the corner of my mouth turned up with amusement.

“How was your day?”

“Mom,” I said. “Juno. Tell her she can only come over once a week.”

Mom laughed again. “You and your sister. I swear. You two have been fighting like fools since…well, since I can remember. Since you could talk, I guess.”

I groaned. “You’re just going to let her keep coming over here and annoying me, aren’t you?”

“Just as I’d let you come visit, do laundry, and have dinner with us while you are in college,” Mom said. “But I’ll talk to her about her attitude, sure.”

“She got to live the first two years of her life without me around bothering her. Can’t I have the last year of high school?”

I was mostly kidding. Mom telling Juno not to come over, while a dream of mine, would never happen. I didn’t really want her to make my sister feel like she wasn’t welcome anyway. Juno got on my nerves, and talking to Mom about it simply made me feel better.

“What happened at school today?” She asked, ignoring my question.

“Nothing,” I said with a shrug. “Well, classes and stuff. Journalism Club. The same thing that always happens. Day after day.”

Mom gave me a gentle smile.

I slumped.

“Davud’s back from Chicago,” I said. “I gave him a ride home today. He’s, uh, kind of down.”

Mom didn’t have to say anything. She understood.

“I’ll call his mom and see if there’s anything they need,” she responded.

I nodded.

“It’s just the same news,” I said. “Nothing has changed. I guess there’s really nothing to do, right?”