The Art of Knowing [Completed]

20. • tantrums •

[to all who are still chained by tension and evident disdain towards those who have wronged you.]

• • • •
It was, without a doubt, the longest flight of Ryan's life. His mind was engulfed by memories as he sat there in solitude, a subtle smile playing on his lips towards the bright rays of the sun beaming against his skin. It was easy to chuckle at the thought, the immense hold the young artist had on him- which was in no way dependent on whether or not she was present.

The garden of cotton was continuously pierced by the large wing of the airplane, all while the unrelenting orange and yellow hues of the sky morphed into them. He breathed in deeply for the one hundredth time throughout the flight. It wasn't long before members of his family seeped into his mind, the group of people he was reluctantly returning home to. After so many attempts to suppress it, he allowed swift guilt to engulf him- although, rather reluctantly.

If he had a true choice, he would've stayed in a heartbeat, which did nothing but show him the tragic state he was in with his family. Going back home wasn't so much about easing their worries about him being gone. In fact, he doubted the possibility of them even noticing his absence. He had always counted on his communication with Shay throughout the years, but even that seemed to be questionable lately. And now, as he absentmindedly held his breath while watching the plane descend, he came to the realization of the true reason for his homecoming. He wouldn't get the warm welcoming he had always expected, but every single time he did come home, there was always a sliver of hope in him that perhaps his family had changed whilst he was away. A truly ridiculous wish on his part.

"Hope you've been studying that book I gave you, Ryan. I can only assume you've been reading it during these sporadic flights, hmm?" His father's tone felt rather detached and annoyed, as if Ryan had nothing better to do than to avidly study a profession he was undoubtably not fit for.

Ryan hummed in response with a stoic expression, intently focusing on his plate as a barrier for any eye contact between his parents.

"Where's Shay anyway," his mother muttered with sudden disdain. Her face stiffened substantially as she angrily picked on her food with the shimmering silverware. Ryan couldn't really understand her insistence in these family dinners since after all, they never fortified or healed the strained relationship between them.

"It's not like she actually enjoys these dinners so I'm not surprised," Ryan mumbled under his breath before leaving his glass just shy of his lips. Once he raised his gaze, he met eyes with two very stoic elders- their lack of enthusiasm never a true surprise- as he placed the glass back on the table. His mother's gaze held certain intimidation as she remained tightlipped, fully aware Ryan's statement was nothing but truth. Her husband remained unaffected as he ate. Gerald Eckhardt was known for being a man of few words- unless he was expected to take over a court room with his irrefutable arguments.

"Well, you should talk to your sister about that." The room felt tense as Ryan's father spoke out of nowhere. "These dinners aren't planned just to be ignored."

"How about you guys call her instead?" Ryan probed agitatedly. He knew the brazenness needed for his altered tone and attitude towards them, but it wasn't like he cared about it any longer. A silent stare down was reciprocated between the two men, the son being all too familiar with the routine. There was rarely any sincerity in these conversations, all masked by detectable deception and indirect jabs towards each other's character. The young man had grown tired of the painstaking process. It was concrete and predictable, the only task for him had been to survive these dinners- long enough to then live out another day with the same ominous corruption in his home.