Because You're Different ✔

25. Heat

June

Sweat trickled down my forehead, gliding down my neck to my back. My sleep shirt clung to my body, drenched and sticky. I was trying to ignore the fact I probably smelled repulsive, but it was difficult to do so when every movement seemed to release even more streams of droplets.

I'd forgotten how sweltering hot the house got in the summer; how the windows would burn you if you touched them and how you would suffocate if you closed any doors for too long. I felt bad for the chickens I sometimes baked in the oven. Still, at least those were dead already. I, on the other hand, was very much alive, and very much aware of the heat creeping up on me.

As quietly as possible, I sneaked towards their bedroom. The creaking floorboards and my clumsy walking did not help. Luckily, they had their fan on, so it didn't matter that much.

I pushed their door open a little further, almost making it crash into their bed. I froze, but the dull thud didn't wake them. They were sound asleep.

Dad was on his back, snoring lightly, his chest going up and down in a soothing rhythm. Good. He was breathing. Mom snored even louder than him, body pressed up to his like she was the only thing that made his heart beat. Maybe she was. Was this the epitome of true love? Snuggling up to your husband even though the room might be as hot as 110 degrees right now?

I wondered if Charlotte snuggled up to Nathan. They could if they wanted to. They had an a/c, and the house was insulated.

Let's not think about that, June.

Reassured, I left my parents to sleep, god knows how they were able to, and slipped downstairs. The living room was a little cooler, although still hot, and after half an hour of lying on the couch and staring up at the worn ceiling, I sighed and got up.

Okay, blistering sun. You have defeated me. I admit.

I grabbed my phone — or Sam's phone. It was an iPhone, "an older model," Sam had said, and he'd wanted the newest version, so I could take this one. I was pretty sure it wasn't even six months old. I was also sure Nathan had put him up to giving it to me. My own Samsung had been falling apart for a while, and more frequently, people hadn't been able to hear me when I called them.

I'd been set on not accepting any more expensive gifts from them — after realizing how much my parents did for me, how stressful I'd made their life, I wanted to avoid being an ungrateful bitch. Sam, however, had argued I needed to be able to contact my father, mother, Nathan, and the hospital at all times. My fear of not being able to reach any of them outweighed my mission to be a little more appreciative of what I did have.

Nathan — last seen: two hours ago

No wonder. It was three am. He had to get up early for work. He was doing an internship at a major law firm, one with three names I frequently forgot, and had to get up at six am every day. Beforehand, he'd been unsure of his choice to do family law, even though we'd discussed it at length, but it seemed like it suited him. He'd seriously considered civil rights or immigration as well — after I pointed out how much Cleo's case had consumed him, he seemed to have let those go. I was thinking about maybe trying to find an internship too this summer, when dad was a little better again. I would be starting sophomore year in a few weeks, and suddenly, college seemed to be closing in on me. I'd need a scholarship to be able to afford studying at a good one, and for that, I needed an outstanding application.

So, this was a thing that frequently happened: I'd open up my messages to stare at Nathan's name like I could voodoo him to come online, until I either got distracted by something else or would cave in and send him something pathetic.