GONER

12 • The Aunt Of A Stunt Man

"Just be quiet for a second," she hissed. "Can't you find it yourself? You're a big boy, last I checked."

I was trying to keep calm. I really, really was. It wasn't often that I got angry, and so I kept it to a minimum, giving her one more chance to answer my question before I started ransacking through the stuff myself.

"I. Just. Need. A. Towel," I breathed, tugging my sleeves over my hands. It was a bit chilly in here, and I was getting mad and she didn't care about anything that didn't concern a man she was never going to see again.

And, yeah, sometimes I miss him. But I have absolutely no hard feelings regarding it. He was slightly crazy and a bit eccentric in everybody single sense of the word, and I didn't mind that he went to explore and stuff. Because I know for sure that he's not at all dead. Sure, it wasn't right for him to walk out on us and choose a life that wasn't even certain in any way, but I honestly didn't care. If he didn't feel like parenthood was for him, who were we to tell him to stay? It's not like he screwed my mother and ran away. No. That's not what happened.

"Find one," she sighed.

I turned around at her words, preparing to make my way to wherever I would be able to find what I needed.

"One more thing, mom."

"Yes?"

"Can I use your car?"

I knew that she didn't have to work later because of the night shift, and I had no car. She obviously didn't want to drive me and so borrowing her vehicle was basically my only hope, despite my obvious despondency towards the entire thing.

"Go for it."
~~~

Instead of simply crying in the shower, I came close to drowning in both anger and my own tears. I just kept going over the conversation with her in my head over and over, and it only made me a bit sick. And by the time I had even gotten out of the bathroom, I was over the toilet, puking.

Don't get me wrong. I love my mother and I knew she loved me. But those times during which she treated me like I wasn't even anywhere close to a first priority made me want to cry. Because if I wasn't good enough for my mom, who was I good enough for?

I worried myself sick, in the most literal sense.

But I still got dressed and still washed my face even more and brushed my teeth and grabbed a pencil and walked out of the door with some sort of lacking feeling in my chest. The porch seemed like a nice place to me now, though, even during this. I could almost feel his arms wrapped around me still as I walked down it and on to the driveway, tightening the grip on my mother's keys that lay inside of the bag slung across my shoulder.

Taking them out, the jingle shocked the silent air and I sighed, taking my phone out of my pocket just to check the time again. I climbed into her car and sat down in the drivers seat, sighing and turning the screen on. Though the time was pushed to the back of my brain as I saw a text on the screen.

Josh: Desperately hoping we're still on for later, and that you're actually showing up because this school would be incredibly boring without you now that I know you exist as a human being.

He never really failed to make me smile, because everything he said was so genuine. But would it really be boring without me? I mean, honestly. All I do is act as a nice target for people after only three days, and speak to Josh in soft and dumb words. I haven't made a huge impact on anything, as far as I'm concerned.