NO Love Club (Boy × Boy) ✔

33) A ZEBRA CAN'T CHANGE ITS STRIPES.

I knew she had changed, and not just said she would, so I wanted to be able forgive her. I just couldn't. 

She was done blaming us for everything that was wrong in her life, but I was still learning what it was like to live in an environment where one could feel like shit without rubbing that shit on the face of the others. I was still learning that in a supportive, functional family you were supposed to share that shit without screaming or giving silent treatment. 

And as I was still learning, a part of me expected every argument to lead into a fight. Every time mom had a bad day, a part of me expected she would take it out on us. It didn't matter if it was in the past, because my body and brain still refused to let it go. Everyone else was ready to move on, but I wasn't sure if I'd ever be. 

One part of me hated myself for that inability, and it was eating me alive. Another part wanted to put up a fight, to scream until I felt like my anger wasn't going to suffocate me anymore. Yet, despite all that anger and the mean words slipping through my lips, I couldn't say what was really bothering me. Every time I tried to, my teeth clamped together and all the air escaped from my lungs, rendering me speechless. The words were forever stuck inside of me.

"How does it feel to be home?" Mom asked, scooping a dizzying amount of mashed potatoes on my plate.

In my anticipation of mom calling her bluff and showing her stripes, I was becoming a problem. I knew it, and I was unable to do shit to change it.

"What do you want me to say?" I snapped back, flinching inwardly as I saw mom's smile faltering and her hand pausing half-way to the bowl of green peas. 

"Well.." Mom began, scooping peas onto my plate. Everyone was staring at us, still as if waiting for a storm to break. "It must be scary to be on your own without the help of the nurses."

"Yes, mom, I'm terrified." I sighed, wanting to smack myself in the face for the tone I had used. I was supposed to be happy to be home, to be thankful for everything my family did for me.

"This tastes amazing, mom." Cody praised the pork chops everyone else was having. Chloe agreed, grandiloquently stuffing her mouth with food. Their attempt to change the topic fell on deaf ears, as mom let out a dramatic breath and whacked a veggie patty on my plate. 

"Is it because I couldn't get the day off from work today?" Mom accosted, keeping her voice low but her tone gave away more than enough.

"Of course you couldn't." I grumbled, then adding, gloomily: "But Cody did. And did you even thank him for it?"

So, that's why I was so angry at her.

"I.." Mom knitted her eyebrows and turned to look at Cody, using a softer tone when she spoke to him: "Thank you for taking the day off, it really means so much to your dad and me." Then she turned back to me, lifting her eyebrows as if to ask: happy now?

"It's really not a problem." Cody assured her, but his eyes were on me.

"Can I go to my room now?" I mumbled, swallowing around a lump in my throat. Even the thought of eating made nausea swell in my stomach, and I just wanted to go back to my room. Everyone had quieted down, looking down at their plates and anticipating the storm to break. 

I wasn't sure what was so badly wrong with me, but I was certain they were all hoping that I had just stayed in the hospital. I missed X, who could make me feel better with just one smile and some joke he would surely come up with. Apart from the things he had blurted out during his migraine attack, with him I had never truly felt like I was beyond repair. Like I was a problem that needed to be fixed.

"No, not until you finish your meal." Mom told me, voice firm and relentless. Her face had paled, apart from the small rosy spots on top of her cheekbones. I could tell she was ready to blow up, but holding herself back for everyone's sake.

I felt bad for her all of a sudden, remembering everything she had done for me in the hospital. And this was how I was repaying her.. But she kept calm anyway, making me realize that perhaps it was possible for a zebra to change its stripes after all.

I picked up my fork, clutching it so firmly my knuckles turned white. When I cut the veggie patty in half, my knife scraped against the plate loudly. I was doing so out of anxiety while holding back tears, but mom mistook it as anger.

"When are you going to be done punishing me?" Mom whispered under her breath, blinking her bloodshot eyes.

I had carried my anger on my shoulders like a cape for so long that I no longer felt its weight on me. I had become so accustomed to it that I no longer knew how to let it go. But god, how I needed to.

"Never." I whispered back so quietly I'm not sure if she could hear me.

****

Question of the day:
How are you?

(Me: I've been better. Winter just really isn't my season.)