Better Sorry than Safe

3.

Sem had made himself comfortable on the living room couch, tapping the screen of his phone, and lazily watching the tiny motorcycles race. His mom was racing too. She zoomed in and out of the living room, hastily cleaning up some used plates and cups, and other random junk laying around. It really was a pointless fight if you asked Sem. With two sons, a careless husband, and a full time job, there was no way the house would ever be tidy. It didn't help that her husband, Noah Bolton, had the uncanny ability to create messes twice as fast as she could clean them, most of all in the kitchen. And boy, did he love the kitchen.

The scent of his dad's homemade chili con carne came wafting into the living room, making Sem's stomach rumble just like the motorcycles in his game. Finally losing his patience, he made the tiny vehicle crash with a quick swipe. He tossed his phone at a table on his way to the kitchen.

"Is it almost done?" Leaning over his dad's shoulder, Sem peered into the pans on the fire.

Dad looked up at him and smiled. "The chili needs to simmer a little while longer."

There were dark circles under Noah's eyes, like there always were after he came home from office. But when he cooked, his tired face lit up and his eyes sparkled. He had told Sem he'd wanted to be a chef when he was young. His parents hadn't agreed with his choice however, and he eventually ended up studying business. It changed little: he still never looked more alive than when he was grabbing bottles of spices left and right, adding a pinch of this and a tea spoon of that, without ever having to measure anything.

"You should be a chef. You know, quit your job and start a restaurant." Sem hopped onto the counter and sat on it, letting his legs dangle.

His dad chuckled, and shook his head. "It's not that simple."

"It is that simple."

"What's going pay the rent then? I can't just leave it all to your mom. Plus, Daniel's in college, and you are going to college in two years."

Sem scoffed. "Oh no, you don't get to use me as an excuse. I'd find a way of getting money if we didn't have any. I'll box for it if I have to." 

He jumped off the counter, and threw a few punches at the air. Sem's trainer Ralph had wanted him in a kickboxing competition for months now, but his parents refused to sign the parental consent form. So, Sem was stuck waiting until he reached the magical age of adulthood, filling his days with football competitions instead.

His dad was still smiling, but the sparkles had dampened slightly. He gave Sem a gentle pat on the back. "There's no chance I'll be talking you out of these competitions?"

"Just as much as I can't talk you out of not doing what your parents wanted. And what about if Daniel finds a place for himself? Would you quit then? It's about time he stopped eating all the food and started paying for his own shit."

"Hey dad, what's for dinner?" 

As if on cue, Daniel entered the kitchen, and almost instantly a heavy stench entered Sem's nostrils with him. 

Sem scrunched up his nose, and then squeezed it shut. "Are you wearing an entire deodorant store on your armpits? Trying to make us all faint so we won't notice those patches of hair still on your chin? Learn to fucking shave."

Daniel's cheeks turned red. "At least I have facial hair to shave, unlike you," he spat back. He nervously fingered his chin at the same time however, and hurried out of the kitchen while Sem laughed.

"Sem, behave." Josie stopped cleaning just long enough to give Sem a stern look. Then the bell rang, and she immediately perked up again.

"Oh, I'll get that!"