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It wasn’t the money.
It wasn’t the lifestyle.
It was the time spent with him. Our moments of genuine laughter and our exciting impromptu trips. His understanding of my sickness and how easily he could make me forget I was on the verge of an attack. He saw me and loved me. He was my person, and I was lost without him.
It was just the three of us now. My father didn’t have a large family, only a cousin who lived in Europe, and my mother’s family was gone, as well. And while Erik and I got along fine, it was my dad who showed me what love was. I was his little girl, and he was my everything.
“I wish you were here,” I whispered.
I swiped at the tear sliding down my cheek and sniffled.
If he were here, I would still be in Seattle living a happy life. Instead, I was stuck in Georgia and a stranger to everyone and everything around me.
My anxiety nudged my chest, its black fingers squeezing my heart. I gasped at the feeling, and sat up quickly, twirling my hair to shake it off. Moving my mind away from things bound to send me into a panic attack, I went to work, pulling out my books and any homework I had. I buckled down, finishing the practice questions in both chapters and reading ahead.
When I tired of schoolwork, I pulled out my recent read, a romance novel about a young girl and an older man, and I read until my eyes began to feel heavy. When I finally looked up again, it was dark out, and Mom and Erik still weren’t home. I picked up my phone and texted Erik.
Me: Where are you?
Erik: Out. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.
Me: That doesn’t answer my question.
Me: Erik?
He didn’t come home, and as usual, I was worried. He stopped returning my texts, and I wasn’t sure if it was a bad signal or if he was ignoring me. He was probably ignoring me. He had once told me I was like an annoying mom, which I supposed was a good thing since our mother had decided she was going to relive her teenage years again.
I was surprised to see her when she came crashing through the front door a little after midnight. Her eyes were glazed, and she smelled like beer and cigarettes. I didn't want to know where she had been while she was out “running errands.”
Without a word to me, she went to her downstairs bedroom and slammed the door behind her like an angry teenage girl. I shook my head, not believing how crazy my life had been of late.
I spent most of the night curled up on the beanbag in the corner of my room, talking to Dad’s urn. It was a lonely life, but it was mine. I woke the following morning still on my beanbag with a terrible kink in my neck.
The rest of the week followed that rhythm. Except Mom got tired of picking me up from school every afternoon and insisted I stay after my classes and wait for a ride with Erik. I spent my afternoons in the library, doing homework and reading until the final bell rang.
Erik’s car, a black Mustang he asked for, for our seventeenth birthday, was sitting in the parking lot. People I had never seen before waited beside the car, lounging against the driver's side as if they owned it.
Why were so many people waiting on Erik?
I mean, he was just a guy who had a bad habit of farting on me and picking his nose. He was gross, but then again, I guessed brothers were supposed to be. I wondered if half of these people would be waiting for him like he was someone special if they knew he peed the bed until he was ten.
I went to the passenger’s side, all eyes on me in confusion, and leaned against the door waiting.
“Do you even know Erik?” A girl asked with a sneer.
I didn’t answer.
There was no need.
Five minutes passed before Erik finally showed, his arm slung over the shoulder of a pretty blonde with too much makeup and not enough skirt. He grinned at me and nodded.
“Hey, sis, hope you weren’t waiting long,” he said, kissing the blonde on the cheek.
“That’s your sister?” Someone at my side asked, an embarrassing amount of shock in their voice.
I was sure it was the same girl who snarled at me earlier like a rabid dog in heat. I wasn’t one to curse, but she was a total bitch.
Yes, Erik was good-looking and outgoing. And yes, we were twins, but that didn’t mean we had to look and act alike. If anything, it gave us more reasons to be different.
