breathe

vii.

I am the worst sister known to man.

No, the universe.

I am currently driving my younger brother, Abel, home from summer camp. A week prior, he called me due to our parents not being able to pick him up. In actuality, they probably had an argument over who would pick him up and never came to a consensus.

I had been so caught up with my work that I almost forgot. I was about 3 hours late to pick him up, but at least I made it. I've really been busting my butt to produce as much artwork as I possibly can. I don't enjoy mass production as much, but it brings in money. Money that goes toward my rent and my siblings. Yesterday, I remembered that I had to pick him up, but the thought slipped my mind from everything that was going on last night. Last night, was the first time in a long time that I got back to my graffiti roots and a few other firsts.

Last night.

I slapped my temple. Just another thing that I forgot; I left Nolan at my apartment. Hopefully he isn't too mad.

And finds his way out to begin with.

I could just text him. I glanced over to the passenger seat where my brother was seated. Abel was selecting songs from Spotify to pick out. Since his phone was dead from being at camp, he was using my own. All that he could select were songs by saxophonists.

"Do you know who Kamasi Washington is?" Abel asked me. His eyes were glued to my phone still.

I'm guessing he was facing withdrawal from going without it for so long. A few days after he texted me earlier in the summer, I got another message saying that his phone was being taken to focus on his skills. Apparently, he wasn't so hot at the sax. Ever since then I would get calls from his camp landline complaining about how he missed Candy Crush. For a 13-year-old, he sure did love the game.

"No, but he sounds good," I answered. I really wanted my phone back. The thought of Nolan texting me flooded my mind and Abel would be the first to actually see them. I was driving so what was I going to do.

"He is a GOD." He exclaimed. "One day I'll be as good as him. Then everyone at camp will really know who's the real talent."

'So, you're not trash anymore?"

"I was never trash. I just wasn't ready to show off my skills to the people."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever you say, Abel."

"When we get home, I'll show you how good I am. Dad's going to love it, too"

I felt a chill go down my spine.

"Why dad?" I asked adjusting myself in my seat.

I didn't know the last time I had spoken to that man.

"He used to play saxophone. Didn't he tell you. Whenever mom leaves, he brings it out and plays."

"I didn't know that, Abel."

My grip on the steering wheel had gotten tighter. When my nails started to dig into the leather, I quickly eased myself. I didn't have to react this way because of that man. He didn't my peace.

"Well, if you'd come over when mom and dad are actually home then maybe you would hear."

I ignored his comment. "When did he start doing that? The saxophone thing."

"About the time you left to college. I think it's because he misses you, so he needs something to fill the void."

Void my ass.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, kid." I responded.

The closer we got to our destination, the closer the houses were to each other, and the more they looked the same. Even with such similarity, no one shared relations with anyone. Only if you needed someone's landscapers phone number. That was the definition of the suburbs. In my experience at least.