“I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.”
- J.R.R. Tolkien
25| family
Oliver
I sit at the kitchen tool eating a protein bar. It’s five in the afternoon, and I am not looking forward to what follows—the night. The dinner.
The Sunday dinner.
“I am the one who deserved that thank you,” Jason says, putting on his jacket and getting ready to leave, as Owen and I will be heading out soon.
I haven’t seen Owen the whole day. If he’s still passed out and somehow forgets about the dinner, nobody will be more relieved than me.
I hope he has a very bad hangover so he can’t move, so I don’t have to go to dinner at all.
“But why the hell would he get drunk on Sunday morning at 11 am?” Jason asks.
“I don’t know,” I mumble.
My brother might be many things, but he is not irresponsible. He knows we have dinner tonight, and he has to be present there. Why would he even get drunk today?
Something is wrong. I frown.
“I don’t feel good about this,” Jason voices my thoughts.
“Yeah.” I nod.
“Why don’t you ask him what’s going on?” Jason suggests.
I shake my head.
“Come on, it’s just a simple question. Ask him,” Jason says, patting on my shoulder before opening the front door.
I sigh. Jason wishes me the best of luck before heading out.
Finishing eating, I decide to check on my brother. I take the stairs and reach his room. I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms over my chest.
Owen groans. Then he turns over in his bed, lying on his stomach, hitting his head with the pillow.
My brother should join a drama school.
“Is it 6 already?!” Owen asks, groaning.
I don’t need to say anything. He has a clock right on his bedside table.
“I don’t want to go,” Owen whines, still lying on his stomach.
It’s surprising, coming from him. He’s the one usually super excited about the dinner. He makes a point every now and then how it is so important to meet our family.
“Dad would be hurt if he hears you now,” I say flatly.
Owen groans again.
Instead of wasting my time there, I go back to my room and find a decent button down and jeans to wear for dinner. Then I head back downstairs. Owen is in the kitchen bar, drinking water and pulling his hair.
“If you don’t want to go, then call and skip it,” I say. “Dad will understand.”
Of course, he will. If it was me, not so much.
“I can’t. I already didn’t go to the office today. I was supposed to meet Dad in the morning.”
I narrow my eyes at him.
“Why would you do that?” The question leaves my mouth instantly.
I don’t understand. What’s going on with Owen? He missed Dad’s meeting. Then he got drunk, and now he doesn’t want to go to dinner.
Owen glances at me. He’s surprised that I asked. We rarely talk.
I sit down on the couch waiting for him to make his decision. If he decides to go, I’ll have to go too.
“If you want to go, it’s better we leave now. It’s already 7.”
Owen shoots up from the tool. “What? How-”
I give him a look. He starts towards his room to get changed, then he stops and turns back. Shoving his hand inside his pocket, he fishes out his car key, and throws it at me.
“Get the car out of the garage.”
I catch it and narrow my eyes.
I never drive his Porsche. Before I can pose a question at that, Owen vanishes towards his room.
I do as I’m told. I start the car and get it out in the driveway. Owen gets out of the house, locks the door and gets in the shotgun hurriedly.
I thought he’d drive. It’s his car.
“What are you waiting for? Drive. We are already late!” Owen says.
I start driving without a word. There’s a little knot in my stomach. The fact that Owen is so unorganized and distracted today is going to make things worse.
“What were you doing in the morning?” I ask gritting my teeth.
Owen doesn’t reply. He pinches the bridge of his nose and covers his face.
The drive to the Carlson Mansion takes almost half an hour. We get out of the car. Owen pushes the calling bell.
I am standing right behind him. I get the smell. “Did you shower?”
Owen turns back to me. His eyes go wide. He didn’t.
“Shit. Do I smell like-”
“Yes, you do,” I inform him.
Owen looks horrified. He gulps.
Just on cue, Dad opens the door.
Dave Carlson, the CEO of the Carlson Empire, my beloved father, looks younger than his age. It’s probably because of his young daughter and his happy family life that gave a new edge to his look. He doesn’t look like he has a son aged almost eighteen.
Owen inherited the sea green eyes from Dad, while I have my mom’s eyes, dark and almost black. The only similarity between me and Dad would be the hair color. Other than that, nobody would call me his son.
Owen didn’t only inherit his eyes. He inherited his charm, charishma, and ability to pull people towards him. He knows how to get his work done by others.
Being the eldest son and a carbon copy of my dad, Owen is expected to follow Dad’s footsteps, hence the meeting on Sundays in his office.
“There you are,” Dad says looking at Owen. ‘You’ meaning Owen, not me.
Dad comes forward to hug Owen. I look at Owen’s face. He looks terrified. If Dad hugs him, he will find out Owen’s been drinking.
So, I jump in front of Owen and hug dad.
Dad pats my shoulder and leans back hurriedly. He clears his throat and turns around, opening the door for us as we go inside. He vanishes down the hallway.
Owen throws his arm over my shoulder. “Man, that was great!”
He chuckles. I glance at him. Owen presses his lips together and removes his arm.
We walk inside the dining hall. I can see Julie from where I’m standing.
Julie was my dad’s assistant in his office, and afterwards she became dad’s assistant in life. She turns around and offers us a fake smile. I look away but Owen does exactly the opposite and smiles back broadly.
I will never understand how he does that. I don’t know how Owen even stands dad after what he did to Mom, after what he did to our family. Owen says it’s important to stay attached. I don’t think it is.
“You boys took your time. I was thinking you won’t come,” Julie says with a tone of resent in her voice, smiling.
How much she wished that.
“Really? I would never miss dinner. Like ever,” Owen says it like he can’t even imagine doing that.
Julie smiles in reply, but her face gets hard a few moments later. My dad steals the show. “I know you wouldn’t leave your old man alone.”
Dad pats on Owen’s shoulder while he smiles.
I am sick of everything I am seeing. Julie’s fake expression, Owen’s fake smiles, and my father’s idea of having dinner with his sons.
“Sit down. Julie cooked her specials for you tonight!” Dad informs.
My brother replies accordingly, saying something good about it. I am thinking of being more careful about what I eat today. I don’t want to die this young.
They chit-chat as they eat. Dad asks questions. Owen answers. He says what Dad likes to hear, how he’s doing good everywhere—things like that.
I am forking around the food and staring at my plate. One more hour. One more hour and I’ll be free.
“Oh, Dad! I almost forgot to tell you about the girl Oliver has a crush on!” Owen says.
I almost spit out the food I put inside my mouth. I cough loudly. Owen turns to me and smirks.
Dad looks amused. “Who is she?”
Owen’s smile gets broader. “I believe she’s the daughter of Chris and Helen Bradbury, from Bradbury development.”
“They have a daughter?” Dad says, cocking his head to the side.
She said she came here with her parents.
“Yup, and our little Oliver-”
“Why don’t you tell Dad why you didn’t go to the office today?” I say.
I didn’t want to do this.
The conversation stops. Dad looks like he just remembered it. Owen stares at me and then looks back at Dad.
“Yes, why didn’t you?” Dad asks.
Owen clears his throat. “I was umm-”
“I have a really tight schedule, Owen. I cleared out my time for you so I could show you around. What were you doing? Something more important than this?”
Owen looks down at his plate.
“I will be there next time. I promise, Dad,” he says in a low tone.
Dad sighs. We finish eating silently after that.
After the dinner, we usually go to the living room, where we have to sit down with Dad. Dad talks to Owen and I pretend to listen.
If I’m lucky, there’s someone who saves me from it. If she’s not asleep, that is.
Today, as we are about to go inside the living room, I hear April calling us. “Owen! Oli!”
I turn around and see her running towards us.
My little sister doesn’t really mind me. In fact, one day, she told me I’m her favorite brother. I did nothing to get that title.
“April!” Owen says as he picks April up and spins her around. She giggles.
Dad comes outside and sees us. He smiles. “Hey April, go play with your Oliver. I have something to talk to Owen about.” He nods at Owen.
Dad doesn’t see Owen’s little frown as he puts April down and kisses her on the cheek. Then he goes inside.
I stay outside. I look at April. April looks up at me. She narrows her eyes, placing her hands on her hips.
She knows I’m not going to pick her up and spin her around.
“Follow me,” April commands. She turns around and walks forward in her little feet. I do as I’m told. I follow my little sister.
*****
“Then we will cut this.” April places the pearl necklace in my hand.
“And why are we going to do that?” I narrow my eyes.
It looks like a really expensive necklace. It might belong to Julie.
“Don’t ask questions,” my little sister commands.
I shrug and cut the string holding the pearls together. April is combing her doll’s hair.
April and I do our work sitting on her bedroom floor. It’s filled with her toys and all the stuff I have been cutting at her command, including newspapers, books, and pearl necklaces.
After a while, I hear Julie’s voice. “April, honey, you should sleep now.”
I look towards the doorway. Julie is here. I stand up. April frowns. She looks at me. “But I want to play with Oli.”
“No, baby, it’s time to go to bed,” Julie says and gives me a pointed look.
I sigh, turn to April and smile a little. April pouts but then starts to put her toys together. I leave her room.
As I reach the hallway, Owen walks out. “Is April asleep already?”
Usually, after his long talks with Dad, Owen doesn’t get the chance to see April. She falls asleep before that.
“Julie is putting her to sleep,” I reply. Owen sighs.
We leave the house. Owen and I get in the car. The dinner is over, finally.
Owen drives towards home in silence. Sunday is probably the only day that he and I need to communicate a little. Six other days of the week, it’s a different story.
“Why would you remind Dad about the morning?” Owen asks suddenly.
I glance at him. “You brought up something about me. I brought up something about you.”
“I was just joking around, Oliver,” Owen says.
I don’t reply.
“Are you ever gonna let it go?” Owen says, sighing, bringing up an old wound.
I look outside the window. It’s dark all around.
“It was almost a year ago, Oliver. Can’t we let it go now?” Owen says. “You know I’d never do that again.”
“Yes, that’s why you said what you said that day in the swimming pool.”
Owen sighs. “I didn’t mean it that way. I wasn’t… I was just trying to make sure she isn’t-”
“Damn well, she isn’t,” I say instantly.
Owen is not helping anything. If he wants me to forget what he did, he should just get out of my sight.
“Yes, she isn’t. Oliver,” Owen shakes his head. “Look, it was a mistake. It wasn’t me. It happened a year ago, and you can’t hold-”
“It’s not a mistake if you do it knowingly,” I inform him. “Doesn’t matter when it happened.”
“I didn’t know,” Owen says. “I didn’t know that you-”
“I don’t want to have this conversation.” I state.
I look outside. We don’t say a single word for the rest of the ride. I get down from the car and slam the door. I take the stairs to my room and collapse on my bed.
Sometimes I wonder how different life would have been if all of us were still together, if Mom was here. I miss her.
I pick up my phone and call Mom. She picks up right away.
“Hello,” I say.
“Hello, dear. Got back from dinner?” she asks.
She knows how much I hate it. She knows how I never want to go. Yet, she is never here to save me from it.
I can’t blame Mom. Sometimes I get angry, but I can’t blame her. After what Dad did, after he shattered everything, Mom simply gave up.
All her life she dreamed about us, our family. And everything was broken into pieces because of my father. He forgot his own family, putting himself first, having an affair with his assistant.
“Yeah,” I sigh. “Did you have dinner?”
“Yes, honey. I did,” Mom says, and I can hear the hurt in her voice, too.
I feel a lodge in my throat. Everything is such a mess.
“Hey, you didn’t tell me about the girl,” Mom says suddenly with a perk in her voice.
“What girl?” I ask instantly.
Did Owen tell her too? Why is suddenly everyone so interested?
“Oliver, don’t try to hide things from me. Your Mom knows everything,” Mom says.
I groan. Mom laughs on the other end.
“I’m not hiding anything.”
“Send me her picture,” Mom says.
“Whose picture? What picture?” I ask.
“Oli,” Mom warns in a grave tone.
“I don’t have any pictures, Mom.”
“Oliver, I might be a little old, but I do know what kids nowadays do. It’s not that hard to get a picture,” Mom says.
“Fine. If I find anything,” I say, because I know I won’t. Having Mom on hold, I open my gallery. There aren’t any pictures here.
Surprisingly, I find one.
She is standing in front of the ferris wheel with the teddy bear and unicorn poo—damn it—cotton candy in her hand, sticking her tongue out.
“Oliver,” I hear Mom’s voice. I press back and put the phone in my ear. “Did you find one?”
“Well umm,” I clear my throat. The photo wasn’t supposed to be there.
“So?” Mom says in an amused ton,e like she already knew it.
Why can’t I just lie? I sigh instead, and yes, I do send it to my mom.
“Such a pretty girl,” Mom says after a while. I swallow.
“Where did you find her?” Mom asks, like she’s really happy. I don’t know what she sees in the picture. But yeah, I feel the same.
“Umm,” I stutter. I was about to tell Mom how I found her puking in my toilet, but that would be a weird story to tell.
“School?” I say, unsure of myself.
Mom laughs. She sighs after a while. We don’t talk much after that. She asks me about school and homework.
“When will you come home?” I ask after a while. I haven’t seen Mom in six months.
Mom doesn’t answer. I close my eyes and breathe out.
“It’s gonna be alright, Oli,” Mom says after a while. “Everything will be okay, one day.”
“But it isn’t now,” I mumble.
Mom tells me to go to sleep. So I say good night to her and put down my phone.
I close my eyes and I have this craving for something. Something I felt yesterday, when I was being taught how to hug. I could use that now.
*****