My mom and Bryan fighting, my dad never replying to my texts and rarely seeing me, school getting harder with more work as we get older, and the pressure to stay as top achiever clings onto me. College is looming closer, and the fear that I won’t get accepted and that my mom will be disappointed eats inside me every day. The fear that if I do get accepted and move to a dorm, then Bryan and my Mom might not see me as much as they do now, which, in all honesty, isn’t that much for living under the same roof. The fear of being left alone even if Elisa attends the same college, we won’t be studying the same major, and I don’t have anyone else.
Dane avoids, ignores, and treats me like a disease he might contract if I get close, even though we should have grown together all these years by suffering the same heartbreak. Instead, he’s causing so much shit, ruining what little of a family I have, and living in a suffocating atmosphere. One day, he, too, will go up and leave to follow whatever path he chooses after graduation. Even if it’s dysfunctional, it’s still all I have after losing everything…. and now this….
The thick-headed asshole could go and screw himself up for life or kill himself ….or my mom might have an actual mental break if she finds out he’s been street racing and gambling on top of everything else and explodes on a typhoon level and ships this idiot out of the country. I feel like my life is imploding, and I’m only seventeen and don’t know how to navigate it all. I’m just a kid who tries so hard to hold everything in and keep it together, and I’m tired. Tired of being the one who clings on to everyone and just wants a stable and quiet existence where no one hurts anyone and we all get along.
Dane turns around, sharpish. Staring at me as though I have two heads, his expression sobering at my show of tears because, honestly, I never cry. Ever. He seems momentarily at a loss, dropping the cloth, and that attitude he just had seems to turn to ash and blow away. His whole posture softens.
I have not once, ever, not even as a small child, cried in front of Dane, never in front of anyone, not even Elisa. I learned long ago that crying upset my mom and made her sit me down for a therapy chat, which was torture, so I ensured I didn’t. She had enough going on, and tears seemed only to exasperate our situation when she was going through the divorce. I would cry only when I was sure no one would see me doing it, and that has never changed.
Dane seems as shocked as I am.
“Kayla?” Dane's tone drops, his face pales, and he steps toward me, reaching for my face with an outstretched hand.
“Just go….. go to your room .. and live….. live … in your little self-centered cocoon of ignorance… whe…. where you don’t have to give a shit about me or anyone else, certainly not our problems. And not me.” I spin away from him, stuttering and spluttering through my wretched sobs and breath, gasping like a pathetic fool. I march back into my room to escape him seeing me this way, wiping my face, ashamed I let him see it but it’s futile. I broke the dam, turned on the tap, and the stupid things keep pouring down my face. Soaking my cheeks, making me ugly cry, and my nose starts to run.
“Hey… hey.” Dane follows me, catching me by the upper arm, and tugs me so I am hauled into his arms, and he latches on tight. Wrapping me in his embrace, pushing my face into his chest with one hand on my head, he hugs me so I can’t move. Immobilized by his size and strength, I gasp in surprise at whatever this is. His other arm slides around my back, keeping my arms tucked in, and I stop and inhale heavily rather than fight him off. “Don’t cry, Kales… come on. This isn’t you. I don’t like this.”
I think I’m stunned into instant calm by how my bully stepbrother is comforting me. And I don’t know how to react except stand here and let him. Quietened by something I never expected. Embarrassed that I broke my ten-year streak of secret crying and crumbled into tears in front of him, of all people.
I forgot what this felt like… having someone hold you and try to make it better. A feeling of safety, like they might take it away for a little while to let you breathe. The last time I was cuddled like this was with my dad, the day my mother packed up my things and took me from my childhood home. He used to hug me a lot.
He starts swaying us from side to side in a subtle movement that helps calm me down further, and the irony of this is not lost on me. That Dane, of all people, is trying to comfort me when he’s the asshole who made me break. It’s weird that he even seems to know how to do this, but I guess his mom was always very affectionate and hands-on in cuddling. She did raise him.
“You’re a jerk…. you have no concept of how much you are fucking up my life,” I mumble against his jacket, curling my fingers into the zip and turning my head to one side so my cheek rests against the lapel. Finding comfort in his heartbeat. Slowing my breathing and sniffing back the waterworks as I get a better handle on them.
I’m a little embarrassed that I did break into full-blown sobbing in front of him, but for some reason, I don’t feel awkward with him this way. I feel still and rapidly calming. Like this is okay and normal, and Dane holding me is somehow soothing and safe.
Who knew Dane would have a wide, comfy chest just right for leaning on? I guess being a gym bro has its perks, after all.
“The fights between our parents are over you….. how shitty this house has become to live in is down to you too.” I let it tumble out, hating him yet clinging on because I don’t know how long I have needed someone to hug me this way, and I can’t seem to let go.
My mom isn’t a hugger. She’s more of a sit-down and talk-through-your-tears type. Bryan feels like it’s not his place to touch me, and my dad …. well, he doesn’t see me enough to feel like he can hug me anymore. I’m always to be the smart and sensible one my mom raised me to be and not give into hysterical breakdowns. A girl who is independent and self-reliant and can get through life no matter what. There are no hugs in my mother's parenting.
“Kayla, I’m not trying to screw your life up… I’m just…” he sighs and squeezes me tighter. “Don’t cry. I don’t know how to react to this.” He rocks me a little harder. “Girl’s crying, I mean.”
His words bring me back to my senses, a reminder of the dumb ass hickey on his neck and the fight last week over Renee…. the bitch Charmaine in class all up in Elisa’s face, and a million other times he has subjected me to feel like women are just objects he discards.
Used and abused.
He goes through them like toilet paper.
I push him off with a little fire ignited inside.
“Don’t even… I have seen you make plenty of girls cry, and you don’t seem to care either way. So don’t get all…. crying makes me uncomfy, Kales…. because I think you're an asshole that gets off on girls crying.” I slap him in the chest with a weak hand separating us and then burst into a second bout of tears that makes no sense to me, but I have zero control over them.
“Ummmm…. yeah, totally different scenario. I don’t, but… go on and for the record…. those girls aren’t you.” He lifts his hand defensively and backs off further when I scoop to pick up a cushion and sway it at his face.
“You never cry. You’re always so…. mad … sometimes scary… sometimes a little psycho, but not a crier. This is weird.”
I don’t know if it’s an attempt at humor or another jab at me, like always, but either way, Dane is sobering back up and being his usual irritating self.
“You did this….. so feel bad, awkward, or whatever. I don’t care. I am so tired of giving a shit about you, and for what?” I accuse him, holding the pillow and aiming it like a pointer at his face. “I don’t know why I give you the time of day… or why I cover for you. …. You make me insane, and for what?? You’re a massive man whore asshole who isn’t man enough to see me cry! Even though you are the cause.”