Page 33 of Bred By the Minotaur
I gape at her. That’s an ask I couldn’t possibly make, not of Phoebe, and certainly not with everything she already has on her plate. She would turn me down without question.
“She works from home,” Mom says, ticking off one finger. “She has a car. She knows Milo already after last night.” She waggles her eyebrows at me. So, Milo told her everything. “And she’s his mother.”
I hold a finger to my mouth and shush her.
“He doesn’t know anything,” I say in a low voice. “We’re keeping it that way until Phoebe wants him to know. If she ever wants him to know.”
Mom arches an eyebrow. “If?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Of course it is,” she says with sympathy. “But you should still tell him. The longer you wait...”
“I need Phoebe to be comfortable first.” My tone is firm. Nothing happens without her say-so.
“Fine.” Mom doesn’t look all that dissuaded, though. “I’m going next week.”
My jaw falls open. “So soon?”
“They said I could use it whenever I want, and next week is my birthday, so...”
I might be the world’s worst son right now. I completely forgot. “Oh, of course. Then go.”
“Are you sure? You can figure it out before then?”
I bat a hand at her. “I’m not incapable. Go.”
Mom allows herself a small smile. “I’ll make the reservations,” she says, then trots out of the room.
What am I going to do?
Phoebe
I think I might actually implode.
I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in what feels like months, though I know it hasn’t been that long. The couch digs into my side and my back at all sorts of uncomfortable angles no matter how I lie down or how many blankets I put on it first.
Work has been hell since I went back, too. After losing all my files, I feel like I never have the thing I need at hand, and I’m constantly behind. Finally, I have to tell my boss that I’m going down to four days a week, because I’m just too... tired.
Tired. All the time, and not just because of the lack of sleep. I feel like I’m always being pulled in ten directions at once, trying to pick up the scattered bits of my life and put them together into something resembling familiar. There’s insurance to deal with constantly, and I’m already racking up credit card debt. Replacing all of our paperwork has been a nightmare. Sandra tries to help, but she doesn’t understand the bureaucracy any better than I do. Sometimes I cry after a bad phone call, and she has to put down her knitting to hug me.
At least she’s forgiven me for what I said. But we’ve always been good at that, as sisters—sure, we’ve hurt each other, but we’ve also learned that we’re all each other has. At the end of the day, it’s just us, trying to survive.
And still, we get on each other’s nerves. The house is too small and each of our personalities is too big to fit inside it. Every night on the couch, I think about Hank and Milo, wishing I was there instead.
Fuck. I never should have gone in for pizza that night, seen their cute house, seen how sweetly and wonderfully they interact. It’s obvious how much Hank loves that little kid. If I’d had a dad like Hank... things would be different. Maybe I would have had a good example.
But even in our foster home, we never really had a “parent.” In our second family, Clarissa was nice enough, but always kept us at arm’s length. She didn’t want to get attached to us in case we were moved, and we felt the same way.
Milo is a lucky kid, and he deserves people in his life who can give him that kind of undivided attention and love. I am not that person.
And I can’t lose my job at DreamTogether, especially now.
I haven’t heard from Hank since that night, just like I asked. Still, it sucks. I wish I could hear his deep voice again. I take out the phone he gave me and look him up after I’ve turned out all the lights, staring at that photo of him in the orange pants, which now I know is from a calendar the fire station did for a charity event.
Explains the topless minotaur.
What would it be like to look into his face while we have sex? This thought occurs to me frequently late at night, and I’ve masturbated more times than I can count just to that picture.
