Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 64929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Owen was going to think… “Hell if I know.” Cursing was starting to feel more natural by the minute. I guess I’d just had to find the right catalyst. Owen walking in on my research project definitely qualified.
Picking my laptop off the floor, I carried it over to the bed and went to grab my clothes from my desk chair where I’d folded them earlier. Keeping things neat made me feel calmer, more secure. It was also something else Owen lorded over me. He didn’t need things picked up to feel relaxed. He could ignore the clutter and still have a good time.
Once I was dressed, I felt a little safer… less vulnerable. I’d never been watched like that, like he could see right through me and knew what was going on in my head. He’d probably been shocked and horrified at what I was doing, but I’d never been able to read Owen very well.
I wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but it couldn’t be good. I knew he was even more sarcastic and mocking when he was angry or upset, so judging by the comments he’d made, I had to have pushed him too far. Was I supposed to apologize? I knew I owed him one for the comment about his love life. It shouldn’t have been any of my business, and I wasn’t even sure why I’d said it. There had just been something about the look on his face and the mocking way he’d asked to help…
There was no excuse. I would have to explain how sorry I was about that. But what about everything else?
If he was that angry about walking in on me — because what else could it have been — then did I owe him another apology about that? I’m sorry you walked in on my research project probably wouldn’t cut it. I’m sorry you saw me getting ready to shove a tail up my rectum probably wasn’t appropriate either, but for different reasons.
I heard a door slam and a car start. The rattling sound of Dad’s old car let me know it was Owen and not one of the neighbors. He was always the one who got to stomp off when we argued. Even when we were little, I was the one who had to stay and pick up the toys that he’d thrown on the floor when I’d accidentally knocked over his tower. I was the one who had to stay and finish cleaning the kitchen when he’d stormed out saying that I’d insulted him.
I was always the one who had to stay and clean up the mess. Only this time, I wasn’t sure how to do it. This mess just seemed to be getting bigger as time went on. After the funeral, everyone had said that it would get better, that we’d figure out how to move on, but I was starting to think they’d lied.
How was I supposed to move on when I was living with a person who barely tolerated me on the best days? How was I supposed to move on with a growing mountain of student loan debts and no idea how to hold things together? I was the oldest, the robot or the automaton, as Owen liked to say. I should have been able to see a way to make things better… make us better.
He was all I had left. Sure, we had a few odd relatives and some friends of our parents who’d stop by every couple of months or so to soothe their guilt, but that was it. Owen was all I had in the world, and I was losing him. Everything I did made things worse between us.
When I tried to talk about his plans for the future, he said I was belittling him. When I asked him about bills for the house, he said I was checking up on him. Was I? I just couldn’t see it through his eyes. He was a puzzle that didn’t make any sense. There were so many pieces missing, and it always seemed like two or three different sets had gotten all jumbled together.
I always felt lost when I was around him.
I was tired of feeling lost, of the endless emptiness of trying to keep things from falling apart, all while knowing nothing I did would make a difference. I was going to end up alone, in debt, and with a house that had years of bad memories. How was that fair? I’d done everything anyone had asked of me. Clean your room, get good grades, nice boys don’t argue, don’t hit, use good manners… I’d done everything right, and he’d been free to do whatever he wanted.
When a bully pushed me to the ground at the Playplace in McDonald’s, I was supposed to figure out what I’d done wrong. Someone shoved him down the slide, and he got to give them a black eye and be congratulated for standing up for himself. Yeah, he’d only been three, but still, I’d never understood why they loved him more for disobeying.