"Sometimes. He is going through a lot," Raven says casually.
I am stumped. How can she be so casual about this?
Raven is also going through a lot. She is just a little kid. And her mother left her. She is telling me that her father also regularly leaves her throughout the night. They just moved in today. How can her father leave her, in this empty house, in this new city, without even telling her? I can't understand why she is being so cavalier about this.
Sure, I deal with my own parent drama, but at least I have the good sense to be angry at them. Raven doesn't give away anything with her expression. I don't know if this makes her angry, sad, hurt. She is blank.
I don't voice any more concerns. This is none of my business, and I have enough on my own plate.
Once the delivery arrives, Raven and I set up the food. Reid and Mia pile into the dining room and barely use their utensils as they devour everything in front of them. Raven laughs with me at their savagery and has the sense to eat like a normal human being.
After dinner, we stick around for a bit longer. I am waiting and hoping that Uncle John will come back. As the night progresses, it becomes clear that he is not coming back. I tell Raven to pack a bag and come stay with us.
"Oh no, that's okay!" Raven looks irritated at my suggestion. I don't understand this girl.
Mia chimes in, "Please Rave, please come home with us. Let's have a slumber party. Pretty please."
"Really guys, I can't. I have a tour scheduled at the school tomorrow. Plus, I have to unpack the remaining boxes."
"Jesus Rave, just come back with us. There is no one here." Reid echoes my sentiments.
Raven doesn't make eye contact with any of us. "You guys are making a big deal for nothing. Dad probably got called into work for an emergency. I am sure he will be back any second. I am fine."
Then it hits me. Pride. We caught her at a vulnerable moment, one that's embarrassing for her. She is alone, but will not let us save her. We have to word it differently, so it doesn't sound like she is a stray cat we are taking home.
I sigh. I hope Mia is not this complicated to handle when she is older.
“Okay, Raven, no worries," I say nonchalantly. "I know you have a lot to do. If you can't stay the night, then at least come by for a piece of cake. We have a whole chocolate fudge cake. I was going to bribe these two with a slice, in exchange for cleaning their rooms." I hope she takes the bait.
Raven smiles at me, with another unreadable expression. I don't know if she is excited about the cake, or if she realizes I am putting on a ruse to let her save face. Or maybe she is relieved about not being alone.
"Nom nom nom. Cake! I can't say no to that. Let's go."
I smirk, as the three of them head out the door. I close the door shut behind me, and can't help the feeling of disappointment. Uncle John, my savior, is no more the hero of this story than my mother.
CHAPTER 2
June 2nd, 2012
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Milo
“Go upstairs!” I use my stern voice, hoping it reflects my serious tone.
I seldom go out on the weekends. Dad’s hospital shifts are seven on and five off. Which means, he works seven days in a row for twelve hours a day. Then he gets five days off. During his days off, he will often moonlight and pick up extra shifts.
Hence, I rarely ever leave the house at night to go to a party. Dad feels bad for me that I regularly miss all social activities; friends’ birthdays, homecomings, Friday night hangs, or even just going to a movie. I don’t want to be an antisocial loner creep. But I can’t leave my siblings alone at home. I used to try to have the nanny stay over on the weekends, but Mia’s tantrums put a stop to that.
So Dad lets me use the split level downstairs to throw house parties. As long as I am responsible, he has never given me a hard time about them. Not like I’d be anything but responsible, especially with my siblings sleeping two floors up.
These parties have gained quite a reputation, attracting even college students. The split level downstairs is soundproof. It’s large and has a cool retro vibe. Plus, I have a never-ending supply of liquor.
We have a housekeeper, Maria, who comes by once a week. Dad gives Maria a stipend for weekly grocery shopping. One of the requirements is to ensure the liquor cabinets are full. The upstairs liquor cabinet has a lock, so Maria stocks it with the expensive stuff. The downstairs bar gets the cheap shit. But it’s free, so no one really cares.
Couple that with some absentee parents, and this house is a party sanctuary.
Nonetheless, I always schedule the parties to take place after Mia’s bedtime and put two strict rules in place. Don’t go upstairs and follow all my rules regarding my family, which includes not allowing my siblings to attend these parties.
Which is why I am annoyed that Reid is standing here, demanding entry. I made sure to tuck Mia in before everyone came over. When I last checked on Reid, he was also getting ready for bed.
I just wanted to throw back a few drinks and relax with people my own age. I am not going to expose my little brother to that. I am aware that kids in New York start drinking young. Hell! I started drinking at his age.
But guess what? Parents are hypocrites. Parents do not want you to make their mistakes. And I am basically a parent for Reid and Mia.
Plus, when I was his age, I never put myself in unnecessary risky situations because my siblings relied on me. I drank, I had sex, but safety was always my number one concern. I was never out of control and did everything in moderation.
I don’t see the same maturity in Reid. I often see it in Raven. I trust her. I trust her more than the adults in our lives. She thinks past herself. She reflects on how her behavior will affect her loved ones and acts accordingly. Reid has not quite developed that same state of mind.
Maybe he will, in a couple of years. And when he does, I rather that he drinks under my supervision. I won’t deny him entrance to these parties forever. But I will deny it tonight.
“The answer is hell no,” I snarl. “ Go upstairs.”
“You are such a fucking hypocrite.”
“Reid, what the hell is the matter with you? You are too young for this shit.”
“You were my age when you started drinking. You are living it up here and keeping us locked upstairs. You leave us with her while you screw around. Fuck you, Milo! Go choke on a dick.” Reid stomps upstairs.
His comments hit home. I feel like a piece of shit. I am fucking up with him. I can feel it.
Having lost all my energy to entertain, I walk outside to get some fresh air. Suddenly, I feel my chest squeezing tight. I try to take deep breaths. How can a stupid fight between brothers cut me so deep?
I used to think dad was leaving me with her, every time he walked out of the house. Now I understand how hard he works to provide for us, send us to private school, secure us a future. After all, money doesn’t grow on trees. I hope Reid comes to the same conclusion about me.
Dad is doing the best he can. And I am doing the best I can. Parents are not perfect, and being a parent doesn’t absolve you of your flaws.