Unexpected

Gabby the Step-sister

The slight breeze to the night lends a sense of comfort as it caresses my wet cheeks. I don't know how long I've been sitting here, bathing in the warm glow coming from the kitchen, but it's been long enough that the tears have finally forced their way through. I don't feel any better now that I'm crying, in fact I feel worse. Much worse, because now I feel like I may never stop.

One could argue my complete avoidance of these now insurmountable feelings is what makes these scarce moments so miserable, but I don't see the use in revisiting the old, festering wound that is my family. My habitual avoidance of the subject is a conscious choice, a survival tactic. As different as Nicole and I are, we eventually end up in the same place. While I forfeit all hope for autonomy and control in my relationship with our parents, Nicole clings to it in hopes that she'll be enough to earn their approval. But in the end, the microaggressions, the pressure, the neglect, it all builds to form an ugly head that has left Nicole and I passing a vodka bottle between us on one occasion, desperate to numb ourselves back to normalcy.

Tonight's crash and burn was brought upon by talks of my future, and so I deal with it alone, knowing Nicole's turn will come soon enough. It always does.

My parents tried to levy Nicole's status as the good child against me during tonight's argument and as much as that's always aggravated me, what really gets to me is that even their little overachiever is left to fend for herself during her periodic anxiety attacks where she'll pull at her hair and curse herself for breaking under the pressure.

I thought, foolishly, that they'd hear out my reasoning for going to school to become a laboratory analyst. I had the whole conversation planned out, where I'd tell them about the decent pay and focus on clinical science. They wouldn't hear of it though, because it doesn't matter how much I'm making if it doesn't surpass the expected six figure income. It doesn't matter that I might actually enjoy the analytic nature of the job and the limited interaction with other people, because where's the reputation, the status, the respect? To them I'd be a slacker, making mere pennies.

So now, I listen on to the crickets in our backyard, their chirping even more clear as we enter the fall months, and wonder if I'm really going to sacrifice happiness for their financial support. By this time, a liquor of choice is usually pooled warmly in my stomach and doing more to comfort me than a mother should, but my stash is empty thanks to the social gatherings that gave me adequate excuse not to drink alone.

Considering the fact it's late on a Thursday night, I don't think my parents would take very kindly to the sound of the car leaving the garage. So I do the only thing I can think of, and text Austin.

Can you do me a favor?

ASStin: anything for u ;)

Can you get me alcohol?

ASStin: yeah sure. when?

Now?

ASStin: like right now?

Yeah...

ASStin: what kind of alcohol do you want?

In twenty minutes time, Austin is slipping through the side gate to my backyard and ducking underneath the windows of my house with a bottle of cheap vodka.

He joins me by the pool, hesitantly sitting down on the lounge chair next to mine. I take the bottle from him and waste no time unscrewing the cap and letting it sear the back of my throat on its way down. I stare out at the pool, the still water looking black in the nighttime. I don't know what to say, or how to explain my impromptu request for alcohol on a Thursday night. So I continue looking out at the water with Austin sitting soundlessly beside me.