Chapter 34: You've Got It Bad

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Dammit.

What a horrible weekend to host my parents over at my place.

It's become a sort of Christmas tradition in my later years; my family visits me in the city the weekend before Christmas, we do some shopping, we eat out, we exchange gifts, and then they go home. Each year it's short and sweet; one Sunday spent together, and then I don't have to see them again until July, when my mother hosts her Annual Independence Day Cookout.

Every summer, my parents throw this massive party at their Country Club. There's food, drinks, activities, fireworks and lots of talk about baseball.

Too much, actually.

I've never been one to enjoy the sport, and my dad and his golf buddies could go on for days about it, so I normally spend the afternoon with my older sister, Leanna, and my nine-year-old nephew, William. Leanna and I have always been close; so close that she's the only family I actually like to keep in contact with.

When my father used to stumble home late at night, drunk, she was the one that protected me from his outbursts. Even when my mother turned a blind eye to his drinking, Leanna was the one that brought her back to reality. She demanded that he get treatment for it, and when my mother screamed and hurled insults at her, she confidently stood her ground, and sought out the help that my father needed.

Did she get a 'thank you', or any gratitude at all for fixing our family at such a young age?

If I said yes, it would be a big, fat lie.

"Chris? Christopher!" Comes my mother's voice. "Didn't you hear anything I just said?"

I'm brought back to the present as I look into my mother's hazel eyes. Her tanned skin has remained flawless through the years; finally reaping the benefits from the excess amount of skincare products she uses.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. We can do that, too," I reply, a general response to whatever it is she's saying.

My parents are seated on the sectional in my living room, my sister in the armchair to their left. William sits quietly in the reading nook by the large window, an absurdly thick book in his hands that couldn't possibly be his reading level.

My mother, Janice Peters, rolls her eyes out of frustration.

"No, Chris. I was speaking of the Hurst family. Grace passed away this last July, putting a dampener on my annual cookout. Now all anyone will be talking about is her." She continues to ramble on, and my sister checks out, her eyes glued to the screen of her phone.

My father, Michael, pretends to listen, and he brings his glass of iced tea up to his lips, his focus on the television in front of us.

"Oh my god, mom. I'm sure the Hursts aren't exactly thrilled about the cookout either, seeing as it will remind them of their dead grandmother," I point out.

Everyone stares at me, except for my dad, whose gaze is still fixed on the TV.

My mother brings a hand up to her chest.

"Christopher! What has gotten into you?" She says, appalled.

I roll my eyes; I guess now I know where I get it from.

"C'mon ma, it's not that serious. It's just a barbecue," I groan.

My mother gasps loudly, my father frowns, Leanna laughs, and William just shakes his head, returning back to his book.

"It is not 'just a barbecue', Christopher. It's the biggest event in north Georgia of the season!" Her dramatic lecture, which hasn't gained the attention of anyone, comes to a close, and I stare at her disdainfully.

I glance at my watch, and decide that 9:00 PM is a perfectly reasonable hour to go to sleep at.

"I'm headed to bed. Help yourselves to whatever you'd like," I say grumpily, and trudge down the hall to the master suite.

My new apartment has three bedrooms, which works out impeccably for the one visit I get a year from my family.

As I wash away the day in the shower, my thoughts drift to Vanessa. I had such an amazing time with her today, it makes me wish I could spend every day with her. I would most definitely rather have her here with me than my annoying family; Leanna and William excluded.

I should have just told her that my parents were in town, and I'm sure she would have understood. Then again, she probably would have wanted to meet them herself, but there's no way I'm exposing her to that shit show just yet.

I want to be with her.

Like actually be together. I want to take her and Audrey to see theater shows at the Fox, go on walks at the park, and watch the sunsets together.

I want to be there for her.

I finish my shower, and walk back into my bedroom, massaging my wet hair with a towel.

"You should really lock your phone, you know," comes a voice from the armchair in the corner of my room.

"Shit, Lea!" I exclaim, startled by her presence. "You should really get the fuck out of my room," I retort, irritated.

I'm wearing sweatpants, but no shirt, and I hide myself, covering my chest with the towel.

She rolls her eyes, and gets up from the chair, her arm reaching out to hand me my phone.

I snatch it from her grip, and point to the door.

"Now, please," I say as politely as I can without losing my temper.

She idles around my dresser, picking up a football signed by Matt Ryan and tossing it back and forth between her hands.

I groan.

"Can you please not touch what isn't yours?" I request through my teeth.

She sets the football back down.

"Who's Vanessa?" She questions, running a finger over the top of my TV. She scrunches up her face when she notices the dust that's accumulated there, and then turns to me, her arms crossing in front of her chest.

I shrug a t-shirt on, and grin at her wickedly; the aggravation I felt before starting to slip away with the mention of her name.

She shoots her eyebrows up, and smiles back at me.

My sister has always been pretty. Her wavy, brown hair has grown out; it comes right below her waist, and her blue eyes, which she inherited from my father, are like crystal clear water.

"Ooo, you've got it bad! How long? Tell me everything. Oh my god I'm so happy for you!" She says everything all at once, and hurls her body onto my bed.

"Don't you have a kid to watch or something?" I say, hoping she'll change the subject.

"Eh, he basically takes care of himself now," she says as she bats a hand in the direction of the living room. "Tell me!"

She places her hands underneath her chin as she awaits my story.

I sigh, the aggravation returning slightly, but decide to tell her anyway. However, I can't seem to find the words that properly express what I'm feeling.

Leanna looks into my eyes, her lips curling up into a knowing smile. "You love her, don't you?"

I stare back, recognition of the inevitable finally breaking through that ice wall I've built up over time. I've known that I'm in love with Vanessa for quite some time now, but I've never heard it said out loud. It feels strange. Like it should only belong to us.

I look at Leanna sheepishly, and her grin widens.

Where do I even begin?

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