5 Days of Summer

Chapter 23: Thursday

I hand over the keys to my dad before going inside the car. The car roars to life when he turns the ignition keys and steps on the accelerator. I glance outside the window and watch some of the students head home at this very hour; the sun is already setting, splashing different colors as twilight arrives. But the school is still buzzing with noises coming from the staff, teachers, and students, who are part of the committee. The woman stayed behind to help with the final touches for the ball tomorrow night - dad's going to the town's gymnasium to help after he takes me home.

I glance at the miniscreen inside the car, which shows an hour late at the time.

"You do know that your clock is an hour late." I point out and cross my arms like a boss who's telling her secretary that she's late for work. I almost got into trouble because of that darn clock.

I caught a slight movement with his shadow, perhaps checking if what I said was true. He reaches his hand out on the miniscreen and fiddles with something on it. The moment his arm is not blocking the view anymore, the time on the screen is accurate.

I head straight to my room as soon as I got out of the four-wheeled vehicle and wait there until dinner time. I stare at the white-painted ceiling, catching a glimpse of the faint white rays of the light from the bulb; they say that if one can see rays coming out from the lights - headlights, lightbulbs, streetlights, you name it - that person has astigmatism. I laugh at my thoughts. I don't know what astigmatism really is — all I know is that it's an eye condition — or what its symptoms are. Perhaps one of its traits is actually seeing rays from any form of light, but just because one can see rays doesn't mean they already have astigmatism.

I got pulled out from my train of thoughts when I heard a knock from my door. It was my father, telling me to come down for dinner. He must've foretold that I might scare Michelle if she was the one that fetched me. Am I really that scary? Or their mind is just exaggerating things?

I can smell the food from here. Dad may not be as good of a cook as the woman, but at least he knows how. Unlike mom, she still has a lot of cooking lessons to learn. I guess that's one of the reasons why they separated; my mother is not really suited for domestic works, nor is she one of those ideal wives who care, nurture, and make the house all warm and cozy.

Whenever my mom cooks, it's either bland or too much salty or sour, or it's not appetizing enough to entice our stomachs. He used to complain about the food she makes, which leads to one of their fights. She wasn't born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but they are treating her as if she was, making her all ignorant of the household chores - especially cooking. I mean, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, so I guess that's what drove my father to entertain the thought of having another woman in his life.

The thought makes me lost my appetite. Dad didn't stay for dinner; after he came knocking on my door, he just left some reminders to us and went on his way.

"Ate Novie, where are you going?" Michelle asks when I walk towards the door. She is already seated on her designated chair in the dining room. Michael is also on his chair, eyeing me with those chinky eyes. They are looking at me patiently, not touching any food.

With a sigh, I take my seat on the chair allotted to me; they smiled, but they're still not touching their food, and their stares are creeping me out already. I carefully took one piece of the almost burnt but crispy, nonetheless, fried chicken that dad cooked, and a ladle of rice.

We all eat in silence; it isn't the silence caused by hunger, but by awkwardness. I've always wanted a sibling of my own — I prefer an older brother though — but now that I have two, I don't know what I should do.

The guilt is consuming me; I had been horrible to them ever since I arrived here. I treated them as if they're air, invisible, not to mention that I've hurt them when I threw a tantrum because my dad couldn't come to my very first gig. I took my anger out on them; my jealousy and envy got the best of me. I am envious about how they get to spend the time with my dad while there I was, in the city, a nine-hour drive from here to there, longing for fatherly love.