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“We weren’t ignoring you, Lucas. We were trying to teach you a lesson.”
“Oh, really?” My head tilts and my lips purse. “And what lesson was that?”
Mom doesn’t say anything. She holds my stare, her brows furrowing with irritation as I wait for her answer. The wind gusts once more, making me shiver. I need to move. I need to run as far away from her. I didn’t dress for a family reunion out in the cold.
“I’m waiting,” I say angrily.
Mom scowls. “Why don’t you get in the car and we go for coffee? Your dad is waiting—”
“My dad?” I say louder than needed. “So he’s my dad again, is he? I thought, with the whole cutting me off thing and not talking to me, he decided we were no longer family.”
“Of course we’re family, Lucas. Now, get in the car.” Mom grabs my arm and tugs me forward, but I plant my feet. Why should I get in the car with them? Why, all of a sudden, do they want me in their life? I thought they were fine having nothing to do with me. “Lucas!” Mom shouts.
“No,” I say, feeling smug as I smile down at her.
Her mouth gapes open, and for some reason, I enjoy the sight of it. I enjoy telling her no. I enjoy being my own person for once and refusing to bow down to her and Dad whenever they wish me to.
“I don’t want to go for coffee,” I say while taking a step away from her. “You don’t get to cut me off and toss me to the side and then pick me back up whenever you feel like it. I’m not a toy.”
“I know you’re not a toy,” Mom says between her teeth. “You’re our son and we want to speak with you.”
I shake my head. “I’m not ready to talk.”
Mom’s eyes widen with shock and anger. “What do you mean you’re not ready to talk?”
“I’m sure you can figure it out, Mom. It’s not rocket science.”
She sputters as I turn around, striding briskly down the sidewalk. I nod at the driver as I pass him, my hand reaching inside my sweatpants and grabbing my phone. The sound of heels clacking against the sidewalk give me pause. Glancing over my shoulder, I find Mom running after me.
“Get in the car!” she shouts. “At once!”
“No.”
She stops and stomps her foot on the ground. “Do you know how embarrassing this is for us? Our own son refusing to come home. Do you know what everyone is saying?”
Anger flares within me. “You’re embarrassed?” I stalk toward her, straightening my back to my full height. Mom stands her ground, scowling up at me. “You must be fucking kidding me!” I shout, not caring how disrespectful I’m sounding. “You know what’s really embarrassing? Having to explain why my parents don’t call me on my birthday, or having to explain why my parents don’t seem to care about me at all.”
Mom rolls her eyes. “Of course we care—”
“If you really loved me, rather than insisting me to come home because you’re embarrassed about what people are saying, you would ask me to come home because you miss and love me.”
Mom’s mouth clamps closed, her face going red.
“Do you care about me at all?”
Her mouth opens, but I’m not done.
“Can you actually say that you love me? That you would do everything in your power to make me happy, because I’m your son and that’s what you want for me?”
Her mouth closes again. Her silence is answer enough. Even after all these years, knowing deep down how she feels about me, how my dad feels about me, it still hurts. I shake my head as I turn around. “It’s not my fault you decided not to invite me home for Christmas. I seem to recall that being your choice.” I lift a hand, twiddling my frigid fingers in farewell. “And tell Dad to fight his own battles, rather than sending you as a messenger.”
My feet pick up, and I run down the sidewalk. She doesn’t follow me. She doesn’t shout anything after me. And a part of me is happy for it. Another part feels like crying, and I swallow that down, knowing it won’t help me. I need to be strong. The moment I allow myself to become weak is the moment Mom and Dad will try to infiltrate my world again. And I know I can’t let them. They can’t make me feel guilty for wanting to pursue my dreams. So what if I’ll end up poor? It will be my choice, not there’s. And being poor isn’t the end of the world. I would rather be happy than have all the money in the world.
My hands are still freezing when I grab my phone, quickly dialing Seth to see where he’s at. I need to run, to fly, to get rid of this disgusting negative feeling my mother has left me with. I listen to the ringing, hoping Seth picks up, not ready to return to Rachel’s apartment, where the tension is thick and the silence is deafening.
I smile as I hear Seth’s voice, “Hey bro, you okay?”
“Totally,” I say while running into the park, looking around for Seth. “You in the park?”
“Of course, I’m in the fucking park. Where else would I be?”
I laugh, feeling better already. “Down for a race?”
“So long as you’re ready to lose.”
My laugher takes hold of me as I listen to Seth give me directions. It’s good to know, whatever foul things that may come, I will always have my friends to rely on.
