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Then, I spot the bright-eyed blonde with freckles and braces in the pool. Previously giggling with her friends, she instantly pauses and frowns in my direction when she sees me.
“Happy birthday, brat,” I call toward her, but she doesn’t respond. Just stares at me with a cool expression. Then her eyes dance over to the woman standing beside me, and I see her share a look with my mother. A tight-lipped smile.
And that feeling of being unwanted is no longer subtle or quiet. It’s loud and humiliating. Turning my back on the uncomfortable eyes, I go back into the house. At least the spread of party food won’t judge me. And I only have to root around in the cooler to find an ice-cold beer—the expensive brand too.
“Thanks, Paul,” I mumble quietly to myself as I crack it open. They continue their conversation outside, and I shrug out of my jacket.
I’m eating alone in the kitchen when Paul’s thirteen-year-old brat of a daughter finds me. “What happened to you?” she asks in a snotty, sarcastic tone. She’s wrapped in a tropical flower beach towel, her dirty blonde hair still wet and stuck to her head.
“What happened to you?” I reply with a sneer.
“You didn’t even wear your swimsuit to a pool party.”
“I don’t plan on swimming, and I’m not a kid.”
“Well, you act like one,” she snaps back, and I know she’s just being a brat. It’s what she always does when we’re together, and I can dish out the attitude too, but today, I’m just feeling tired. And bitter. And empty.
“Easy on the chips,” I reply, watching her hand as it reaches for another handful of Doritos. That was a dick thing to say because I am a dick. I’m an asshole, and she’s just a sweet kid whose mom died when she was a baby and certainly didn’t ask for such a dickhead of a stepbrother.
But deep down, I hate Mia for really stupid reasons. Reasons that only a self-absorbed, chemically imbalanced man-child would hate a little girl. I’m not proud of it, and I’m not denying the fact that I am a grade-A asshole.
“Fuck you, Garrett,” she mutters in return, tossing a handful of chips at me.
I deserved that. Then she storms out of the house, and my mom is rushing in, obviously overhearing her little princess getting upset.
“What was that all about?” she asks.
“She was being a little bitch,” I reply.
“Garrett!” My mother’s voice is piercing, too loud and harsh to feel like a warning. I’ve gone too far. I’ve pushed too hard. Everyone is at their limit, and I know by the way she’s looking at me now, the limit has been passed.
“Why don’t you just leave,” my mother says, unable to look me in the eye. “The party’s just about over anyway.”
The party doesn’t look over. But it sure as fuck looks like I’m killing the mood. Without a word, I spin on my heels and bolt out of the kitchen. “It’s all right, Mom. I won’t interrupt your new family’s perfect day.”
“Stop it,” she snaps. “That’s not fair.”
I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the black screen of the television as I pass, and I realize just how wrong I look here. I’m a mess. My whole life is a mess. Every single decision I’ve made has led me to this mess.
“You’re clearly in a bad mood,” she says with a little more care as I make my way to the front door.
I scoff. “A bad mood?”
A bad mood. Fuck, I wish I knew what a bad mood felt like. I wish my bad moods weren’t like tornado-sized spirals. I wish I could brush off a bad mood with some sleep and a warm meal.
“Your life is so perfect now, and you don’t want me around. I get it.”
“Stop it,” she mutters. “That’s not fair.”
“No, it’s not,” I reply.
“You need to grow up, Garrett. You’re twenty-six. It’s not fair to Mia to have you show up like this.”
“Probably better if I didn’t come at all, right?”
“I would never say that,” my mother argues. “I just want you to be happy, Garrett.”
I throw my arms in the air. “I wish I knew how, Mom.”
