Perfectly Imperfect 1

72- Plans

KAYLA:

I could almost breathe in the tension circulating the air in the kitchen where my parents, Cal and I were seated tensely. Beyond the closed doors, the twins and Emma were blissfully ignorant of the current situation- my parents wanted to keep it that way.

At least, for as long as they could.

"This is bad," my dad repeated tersely for the unphtenth time, rocking in his chair. "It's not just threats anymore... this... he's capable of hurting, this brother of yours."

Cal's jaw stiffened and he glared at a spot on the Formica table, not saying anything.

My dad hesitated before continuing.

"Look here, son. You know we really care about you, and these past months, we've always though of you as our own son, but..." 

My dad ran his hand through his balding hair.

"... But, I don't think... you and Kayla..."

It took me a few seconds to realize what he was trying to say.

"NO!" I whispered angrily, standing up. 

"Baby, I... your father's right..." Cal murmured in anguish.

I snarled.

"Right about what? Look, if this Aiden guy really is violent, what will breaking up do, Cal? If you think he's intending on hurting those close to you, do you honestly think he'll let something as trivial as a break up stop him?"

Cal tried to open his mouth to speak, but I silenced him with a glare.

"Dad, I will not break up with Cal, no matter what any of you says or will say. He, this Aiden freak, must know how much time Cal spends here, after all. He must know that Cal cares about this family as much as he does for me." I took a deep breath. "Like I said, I don't see the point of letting go of Cal, and I won't do it, even if there was a point. All of us, we're in this together, whether we like it or not. You said it yourself, dad. Cal's like a son to you. So, instead of trying to distance ourselves, instead of trying to cut ourselves away from him, why don't we help him, instead, dad?"

The kitchen was silent; nobody answered. Rather flustered, I sat down, averting my parents' and Cal's gaze. Then, my mother cleared her throat awkwardly: it was the first time she made any attempt to voice her thoughts out since we'd entered the kitchen.

"I... I think Kayla's right. This isn't just about our safety; it's about Cal's too. We have to think of something, and breaking them up... that's not the right thing to do, dear."

My dad nodded slowly, and I exhaled in relief. Underneath the table, Cal squeezed my hand tightly.

"You're right, honey. I'm sorry, son. It's just that... I got so worked up, I wasn't thinking straight. Will you forgive me?"