Page 39 of The Burdens We Share
Ivory fumes, “Sam!”
He focuses his attention on his sister and I notice right away that these two siblings look absolutely nothing alike. Sam’s hair is a highlighted blond and while they may have similar bone structures, his eyes are lighter than hers, and his complexion is an entirely different color. Another thing they have in common is their frames. They’re both extremely slim and lean, but Sam is incredibly tall. He’s probably only four or five inches shorter than I am. I also notice his pearl choker necklace and pink tank top. Maybe they have similar styles as well.
He spares me a quick glance before he snaps back at his sister, “Why are you even here?”
“Because you are out of control,” Ivory rages.
He scoffs, “More like Mom can’t parent her own kid.”
Tara shrieks, “Sam! How dare you?”
Ivory raises her hands to silence them both, “Mom, can you please just go downstairs or something so I can talk to Sam?”
Tara immediately rushes out of the room and slams the door shut as if she’s been dying to push Sam onto someone else. I truly pity my little devil. Her mother has no patience to parent her own son and she pushes the job onto Ivory who already works her ass off to not only make a name for herself but to support her family. All Tara’s concerned with is what rich man she can date next.
Ivory lowers her voice so as to speak calmly to Sam, “Sam,please calm down and talk to me.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, “I’m not interested in talking to you.”
Ivory sighs, “Please. I came all the way here to talk to you.”
Sam looks at me, changing the subject, “Are you the new boyfriend?”
I nod, stepping up to Ivory’s side. “I am. I wish we could be meeting under better circumstances.”
He shrugs, “Whatever.”
Ivory asks, “What’s going on? You usually talk to me. Why are you being aggressive? I’m just trying to help.”
Sam snaps, “Have you ever considered that nobody fucking wants your help? I didn’t ask you to come here from your fancy mansion and leave your fancy friends or your fancy job.”
She frowns, “You know I worked really hard to make all of those things happen.”
“I don’t really care how hard you work. It seems I only see you when Mom calls you to parent me and do her job. Well guess what, Ivory? I don’t fucking need you to parent me. You and Mom are fucking bitches and I can’t stand either of you,” he bellows.
Rage, a sharp slice of it cuts through my chest at his disrespect towards my little devil. Family or not, teenager or not, nobody disrespects her. Not to me, not behind my back, notever. “Watch your mouth,” I cut in.
Sam’s eyes widen in shock as if he wasn’t expecting me to get involved. Ivory looks up at me with panicked eyes as if she’s afraid I may try to kill her brother or that he may try to come after me.
Ivory whispers, “Dallas.”
I raise a brow at her, “Ivory, go downstairs and keep your mother company. I’m gonna have a little chat with your brother.”
She hesitates to move as if she suspects from the darkness of my tone that I may try to kill him, but I lower my lips to her ear and whisper, “Please.”
Ivory obeys and slowly retreats from the room, slowly closing the door behind her. I turn my attention on Sam and school intimidation into my voice, “We’re gonna have a little chat.”
Ivory
RAGE, GUILT, EMBARRASSMENT, ANDdid I already say rage? Those are all the emotions battling inside me right now because Dallas just took complete control over the situation I was supposed to deal with. Part of me is pissed at him for getting involved so heavily because all I asked was for him to be emotional support which is really more of a silent role. But no, he had to go all scary on my teenage brother. Sam looked ready to shit his pants when Dallas spoke up.
The other part of me is extremely embarrassed because this burden I carry, having to parent my brother, just became Dallas’ burden and that isn’t fair. He probably thinks my family is a bunch of circus animals and I want to barf at the thought. I don’t want him to see me differently because he saw all of this live. God, I never should’ve asked him to come upstairs with me. I should’ve asked him to stay downstairs and let me sort everything out. Then again, it really didn’t look like I was sorting things out going down that path. Sam is being much more aggressive than usual.
My mom leans over the marble island countertop and whispers, “What do you think he’s saying to Sam?”
I shrug, “I don’t know, but I really don’t think it’s fair that he’s the one dealing with it. He isn’t part of the family.”
Mom gives me a doubtful look, “Yes he is. He’s your boyfriend. Besides, it might be good for Sam to have a man ripping into him rather than us. He doesn’t take me seriouslyand it doesn’t look like you were doing that great of a job.”
