Page 83 of Eye of the Hurricane
My dad comes walking in with his bags, his suit, and her dress in a zipped bag. He looks older than the last time I saw him and just like that my edge to stand up for myself is deteriorating. His hair is turning more silver than brown.
“Where can I put our things?” he asks. I walk him and my mom to the spare room I spent the most time cleaning. Theone that is near perfection. Because my mom wouldn’t settle for anything else.
They follow me in with all of their bags. Dad starts unloading them like they’ll be there for a long time. Luckily, they won’t. It’s just a long weekend.
“I’m going to go show Bub to his room,” I announce, leaving the room. When I walk back out to the living room, he’s standing there bags in hand.
I run over and throw my arms around him. He may not be perfect, he may not stand up for me like I wish he would, but he’s still my big brother. And I’ve missed him the most being away from home. He’s one of the only things I miss from Louisiana. Him and of course the food.
“I’ve missed you so much,” I sigh. He drops his bags to the ground, wrapping his arms around me.
“You never visit home,” he counters.
“You know why,” I say, quietly. He nods.
“Let me show you to your room,” I tell him. He picks his bags up off of the ground and follows me to the other guest room.
“The place is cute, Kat.”
“I think so. Mom didn’t seem impressed.”
“Well you know that’s just how she is.” He shrugs. I just sigh.
His commitment to excusing her actions is exhausting. I can’t for the life of me understand why that’s a good enough answer for him. That’s just the way she is. Maybe it wouldn’t be if I wasn’t the only one unwilling to let it be.
“I guess,” I murmur. This is already tense and I’m already regretting involving Ares in this.
We all meet back in the living room where my mom reminds me that there’s cat hair on my couch and that thehouse smells like cat. I didn’t even know cats had a scent. I do now though.
“I was thinking I could cook for y’all tonight. Is there anything specific that sounds good?” I ask.
“Don’t be silly, Katherine. Your father and I will take you and your brother out to eat. You’ll bring your boyfriend as well,” my mom says firmly. She’s not asking me, she’s telling me.
“I don’t know, he might be busy,” I tell her. Which is technically true, I have no idea what he’s doing.
“Do you often not know what your own boyfriend is doing?” Her nose is turned up. I can feel the judgment in her words.
“We’ve just been busy.”
“It’s about that career, isn’t it? You’re putting it first, aren’t you?” she questions. My blood runs hot and my cheeks burn.
“Mom,” my brother cuts in.
“This is not your concern, Noah,” my mother scolds. That’s all it takes for him to back off.
“Yes, mom. The job I’m going after has taken up a fair bit of my time,” I admit. She sucks her tongue against her teeth.
“Call him. No more talk of this career. You will focus on what’s important this weekend.”
“I’ll call him,” I huff.
“Katherine tell me now if this is a man not worth meeting.” It’s more than a dig at him. It’s a statement of how she thinks of me.
“He’s worth meeting. He’s the best man I know,” I tell her. I mean it, too.
I step outside and get in my car to call him. Partly for some privacy but mostly because I need a moment to collect myself. And maybe a moment to cry.
“Hi, honey,” his voice is a grounding anchor. The whirlwind of my mind slows at the sound. There are a few beats of silence as I search for what I want to say.
