I let out a deep breath before leaned in again and pecked his lips once more. It was probably for three seconds this time around. I pulled back and August and I gazed into each other's eyes. I felt blood rush into my cheeks as he placed his hand on...
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"How do you like them?" My mom flashed her freshly painted red nails.
"I like them. They look nice Mom," I said to her. Instantly her face lit up.
She was ecstatic about her manicure. It was nice seeing her do something for herself for once. As for me, I was in the middle of going into a full-blown temper tantrum. I was doing everything I could to contain the swarm of emotions erupting in me. This morning at the nail salon was complete and total bullshit. Carmen shot me down with no hesitation. It was expected, regardless, it was excruciatingly painful to sit beside her in silence. I made sure Carmen did not catch on. I maintained a cool demeanor. I had to go on and act as if my heart was not shattered into a million pieces.
As soon as me and my mom entered the house, we spotted Drew with his best friend, Kaitlin. She lives in the house across the street. She's a bizarre girl. She dyes her hair a different color every month. She also has a strong stance on climate change. I don't think I've ever carried a conversation with her where she is not rambling on about the environment and global warming. Kaitlin is a peculiar individual for sure. Yet she is genuine, and she is a great person for my brother to have around during this difficult period in his life. They have been friends since they were in diapers. I may be pulling at thin air, but I have a strong suspicion that Drew secretly has a crush on Kaitlin, but he does not act on it.
When I walked into the kitchen I spotted my dad sitting at the kitchen table. He wore a black and white pinstripe suit and a black tie. His phone was pressed against his ear, and he continued to shout like a baboon into the phone. It appeared as if he was on a very pressing business call. I'm not too sure what my dad does as a career. I know that he launched some type of commercial business a couple of years ago, and it's been successful. His face was covered in the usual humorless expression. I could tell something was off about him. My eyes landed on his right hand he had balled up into a fist. It is an evident giveaway from his body language that he is encountering some type of alarming situation.
I froze when our eyes connected. It was brief. I felt a surge of anger begin to unravel in me all over again. I have not spoken a word to my father since last night. There has been no interaction with him from anyone in the house. To put it simply, my dad is a fucking idiot. I can't speak for anyone else, but I wanted to pounce at my father at the dinner table last night. I have never been more humiliated. It was easy to read between the lines of what he was implying. To say I was mortified is an understatement.
Although I grew up in the same household as my father, I don't know him. I don't know his ideologies, I don't know his views, and I certainly do not know his beliefs. All I know is that he is a grouchy, temperamental man who can never be satisfied. I can't say if he's a racist or not. What he said last night was very much racist and I was revolted by him.
"I need to speak to you about something important." My dad huffed at me after he ended his phone call.
