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My mother deserved better.
Eli’s head shakes on a mirthless laugh, chin pointed at the ground before he meets his stare again. “It’s time to grow up, Finn.”
Finn’s jaw clenches, a hard glint settling there in his eye.
After my mom died, I practically grew up over at his house, so yeah, Eli’s got him there. The way Abram treated Finn a night-and-day difference from the approach I got.
His shoulders drop like a toddler who's been put in time-out, only his was for years. Regret of how my life is—was—flashes. Had he grown up in the house down the road from his, things would’ve been so different.
It’s fucked up but maybe Lorna not telling Finn was a gift. Undoubtful, knowing her, that it was done out of anything but her own greed but still. He got a better deal out of the two of us.
“You think you’re controlling your emotions but really, you’re refusing to deal with them. Shutting them out isn’t the right way to go about it.”
“Iamcontrolling my emotions,” Finn says. Speaking out the side of his barely moving, tight-lipped mouth.
His temper is on the brink of erupting all over again.
“Now is a prime example of that, pretzel dick!” Finn spews out, going toe to toe.
“Wrong, you’re ignoring them. If you had control, you wouldn’t be avoiding them completely. You haven’t learned to embrace understanding them.”
Alarmingly Finn stays, standing statuesquely still, even though it’s evident everything in him screams disobedience.
His eyes pulsate as the whites glow in his anger.
“Learn the difference. I have my own problems to work out,” Eli concludes. Slinging the strap of his duffel over his chest and opposite shoulder. “I’m out. See you tomorrow night,” adding that last part with his back already to us.
Well then.
twenty-six
Abram
Then…
Today’sshapinguptobe one ofthosedays and it’s not even noon yet.
First, I’d barely climbed out of bed this morning before the snake of a woman that lay’s next to me in designer skin starts badgering me. She’s nearly given me a migraine and it’s hardly five a.m.
While simultaneously ignoring—I mean listening—to my dear wife, she rants on about needingmoreclothes for an upcoming event. I showered, brushed my teeth, shaved, and am almost finished dressing before I even think about replying. She already has a closetful of unworn items.
All that I have left is picking out a tie, her yapping even making the simple task difficult. Now to go with my wife’s unattractive personality orange or my sanity like my balls are lost blue.
The choice a difficult one indeed.
When I spend more time pondering this and not enough nodding to show I’m somewhat interested she decides for me. Guess I’m going with the dull, but finding a way to deal, periwinkle shade instead.
Working it around my neck, her smirk goes sly. Eyes gleaming with too much approval when she pulls it as tight as the hold on my credit card in my pocket.
Playing it off she smooths out the collar of my suit jacket and dusts off my shoulders.
My head is buried in my phone as I cross the hallway, reading the text from Silas wanting me in early.
It doesn’t do much to ignore her because she’s right here. Trailing me the same way she’s been doing for years. The tactic, unlike my investment in this marriage, dedicated.
Not lifting my head, I pull out my card and hand it over before I damage more brain cells. Whatever Silas wants it sounds urgent and I’m all for the excuse to leave.
I would be a fool to think Lorna cared which is why I don’t bat an eye as she plucks the black card from my fingers. Humming her approval, she climbs down the stairs finally getting what she wants.
