Unprivileged

Chapter 3.

I wake up the next day to the sound of my alarm instead of being shouted at by an angry mother. I struggle to make out what day it is today. I grab my phone from the bed stand, it displays that today is a Saturday and it's way too early to be up. I roll around under my blanket, trying to fall back asleep. 

But I don't.

My stomach growls, reminding me I did not have dinner yesterday. I consider going downstairs to make breakfast but I decide against it. The last thing I want is to be yelled at for waking up Rich. My two year old brother that is. I'm way too noisy and I should just stay here, at least until everyone is up and awake. 

What are my plans for the weekend? You may ask. Well, the answer to that is pretty plain and easy. I have a book to finish and a brother to babysit. I should probably clean the mess in my room, too. That's about it. What would you expect a socially retarded book-nerd like me to do?

By the time I hear noises coming up from downstairs, I have decently cleaned my room and rearranged my book shelf by alphabetical order. I took out Book Three from the Legends series and tossed it on my desk, and then moved on to my ridiculously narrow bathroom and took a shower. 

I climb down the steps to find Rich sitting on table, casually making a giant mess with his meal.

"Good morning, mum!" I kiss her on the cheek and grab a bowl to fill with cereal and milk.

"Morning!" replies my mum. Smiling. And then she carries on, "I'm going to the airport in one hour."

"The airport? Is dad coming home?" I ask. He's a military doctor. And he volunteered to go to Syria on behalf of a British charity or whatever.

"Yes, he is," she answers. "But only for a while. They still need him there," she adds.

"What about us?" I ask the question aloud. "Don't we need him too?''

"Don't be selfish, Ace. He's fighting for a noble cause. You should be encouraging him to go other places like Palestine and Africa instead of asking those silly questions."

"Yeah right!" I roll my eyes.

"Grow up," she states. "You're not a kid anymore."

I finish my breakfast while thinking about my mother's last statement. Two little words that I'm particularly not fond of. "Grow up". I don't know how to properly grow up to the standards that are socially adequate, and honestly, I don't want to. Adulthood is scary. Count to this: there's houses to buy and bills to pay and food to afford and jobs to find and children to have and ugh. It sickens me to think about it all. My mum left at exactly 11 O'clock and I was left to load the dishwasher and look after Rich. I go up to my room and bring the book down with me to the living room, where I gave my brother a whole lot of toys and Lego only so he would leave me alone to read. 

I sit close to the window for a proper lighting and begin a reading race against time. I only have two days and I'm determined to prove to Carrie that she couldn't be more wrong about calling me a slow reader. The book is awesome and I dived into the world of it right away. It's about this squad of boys and girls who go around the world looking for something known amongst them as Legends. A ring that guarantees invisibility. An encyclopedia of spells. A glass of immortal blood. And the like. The way the series work is that each book is about one of the four existing Legends, so indeed, there are four books, three of them we have read, and another one remaining. 

One thing us readers all agree about, time passes quickly when you read, and I am brought back to reality by the sound of Rich's sobs and cries. He must be hungry. I put down my book and head to the kitchen. I check the time. It's past 4 in the afternoon. 

"WHAT?" I yell in confusion. "Where in the heaven's are they?" I am now having what seems to be a conversation with a two year old boy. I retrieve my phone from my room and dial my mum's number. It goes straight to the voice mail. Great. "Mum? Where are you? Is dad okay? Call me." I leave that and hang up. My heart is hammering my rib cage, and my mind is going over every possible disastrous life scenario that could happen to them. In the kitchen, I sit on a chair with Rich sitting on my lap and I feed him, waiting so nervously for a door or a phone to ring. Either of which I'd be so glad to answer.

The door opens after half an hour that to me felt like a decade, and behind it appears my mum and dad. My anger at them fades away as dad pulls both me and Rich into a group hug that is quite suffocating, but so sweet and heartwarming. So awkwardly, I pull out of the hug and stand there, not knowing what to do nor what to say. It's been two months. 

"You've quite grown up, young man!" my dad exaggerates, addressing his words to me.

"It's been only two months dad, I'm still sixteen." I state the obvious.

"Still sarcastic as you are!" he laughs.

I smile.

"Why don't you go upstairs and rest? Maybe even have a shower or a bath?" my mum suggests.

"Yeah. That'd be nice," he agrees and soon disappears with his suitcase up the steps. 

I've never been so close to my dad. Both of my parents, really. But his absence was something that I certainly did not enjoy. I had enough going on on my plate: unexplained tiredness, a book to be written, questions to never be answered, a hopeless crush on my best friend. The last thing I need was for my dad to leave. Not just that but to a country that suffered a conflict. All along, I was aware of the danger he was put in. And still I had nothing to do about it. I wish he could just stay, I kind of need to feel the safety. 

My mum is relieved to be found again in her kitchen and immediately she takes out her pans and her bowls and gets down to her cooking. I hesitate on joining her and probably bringing up the subject of my dad's work but I decide not to. Seeing that we've had that conversation way too many times, it's seemed pointless. Why would her opinion alter now? I thought it wouldn't.

For the remainder of the evening, I do the only thing I know of which is reading Legends, until dinner time when dad comes down in his newly shaved, relaxed and happy I'm-back-home face. We sit during dinner in a table full of goodies, silent. I wouldn't so much as look up from my plate. I'm afraid I'll look one of them in the eyes and then we'd have to engage in conversation. I missed this. A lot. I'm sure they do too. We don't normally show affection for each other. We know it's there, and that's enough. Even in the awkwardness of our silent dinner gatherings I feel the most happy. The most loved. 

In my room, I read and read and read until the early hours of the morning. I look out of the window to check for any shooting stars to wish upon, but sadly, there aren't any. The sky is a strange orange and it looks sad. I want to call Carrie, but she would be asleep by now and she would think I'm weird. I don't want her to think I'm weird.