Reaching the sidewalk, I spot a mass of long jet black hair. Raven!
She is sitting on the steps outside of her brownstone. I immediately feel calm, and my chest is not so hollow anymore.
I have gotten to know Raven really well over the past year. She has become a part of our family. She is young but shockingly mature for her age. At this point, I consider her a really good friend of mine. She is poised, classy, and well put together. She is the kind of person who has a calming effect on everyone. I have even seen her have that effect on my mom. Not to mention, she is incredibly beautiful.
I constantly have to remind myself not to even think shit like that. I am seventeen, just a few months shy of eighteen, and about to start college. She is fourteen about to enter her freshman year in High School. Plus, she is Reid’s best friend. So I force myself not to look too deeply into her physical beauty.
Which is fine, because the best part about her is actually her words. She has a way with words, always articulate yet humorous. Exactly what I need right now.
“Hi, Rave.”
Raven spots me and gives me her megawatt smile. Despite how much I chide myself, my heart stops.
“Hey there. Did the party end early?”
“Naa, it’s still going on. What are you doing outside by yourself?”
“Just needed some air.”
I have a feeling that means Uncle John did not come home again. Raven is sitting outside, waiting for him. I am shocked that Raven still craves his love. He has been treating his only daughter like dirt since her mother left. Love has made a monster out of that man, who was once my hero.
Raven does not harbor any hard feelings towards her mother or father. She talks to her mother on the phone. She told me she was happy her mother pursued her dreams. I have to shake my head at her perspective on life.
The more Raven acts like she understood Theressa’s decision, the more Theressa drowns in guilt over leaving her daughter. She has been showering her daughter with gifts. At least once a month, Raven gets shipments of designer clothing and shoes. Raven’s tact is effective, even though she doesn’t know it.
When you attack someone, they become defensive. It’s easier for them to defend their bad behavior. When you act with class and poise, they can’t deflect their anger on you. They have no choice but to acknowledge their own shitty behavior. It’s the best way to make someone feel ashamed. I have learned a lot from Raven.
The only negative from the situation is the clothes her mother keeps sending her. Her mother demands photos of Raven wearing these clothes.
Since her private school requires uniforms, Raven’s only opportunity to wear them is around us. I don’t know if her mother realizes, but those outfits make her fourteen-year-old daughter look like an eighteen-year-old model. They give me mini heart attacks, further making my denial about Raven’s physical attributes that much more difficult. I have made it a point to include Raven in all of our family outings. And more than once, during our outings, Reid and I had to threaten to murder men with leering eyes or groping hands.
I sit down next to Raven on the steps. We sit together in comfortable silence for a little while. Raven puts her head on my shoulder like she often does. After a beat, I ask her an unsettling question.
“When was the last time you saw Uncle John?”
Raven doesn’t say anything.
Another odd fact hits me. “Rave, why are all the lights off in your house?”
She is still quiet.
“Rave…”
“Milo… don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I do worry about it.”
“It’s not a big deal. Dad made a mistake with the electricity bill. They shut it off.”
“What the hell!” I yell out immediately. “When did this happen?” I am furious, and she looks too fucking calm for my comfort.
“Milo, he is going through something. And it’s not that big of a deal. It’s been great weather lately. It’s not too hot. If there was a time for dad to slip up, thank God it was now.”
She tries to smile it off. Is she seriously making a joke right now?
I know Raven’s not a pushover. She won’t let anyone talk down to her. Reid, with all of his hot temper, is the only one who tries. Raven usually says something to the effect of:
If you are not in the mindset to have a sensible conversation with me, I am going to excuse myself from this situation. Feel free to call me when you are in control of your emotions, and we can have a mature discussion on how to resolve this argument.
Can you believe that shit comes out of a fourteen-year-old’s mouth? Reid gets dumbstruck, and I usually have to reel in a snort. So why is she not standing up to Uncle John?
Right now, I need a reaction from her. A normal reaction to her abnormal father. I will take any reaction other than her nonchalant act.
I take a deep breath. I have to approach this with caution. Raven is all about being rational and seeing things from the other person’s perspective. That’s how I have to approach it if I want to get through to her. I have never had to put this much effort when speaking to any other female. Somehow, this fourteen-year-old always keeps me on my toes.
“Okay. Let’s pass off the electric bill fiasco as a fluke,” I start cautiously. “However, do you believe that Uncle John is currently upholding his duties to you, as your father? Yes, he is going through a tough time. Yes, he lost the only woman he has ever loved. But he also has an obligation to you.”
I remind myself that she is fourteen and a girl. This conversation might make her cry. On the other hand, if she is as mature as I peg her to be, she might reflect on my words and really listen to my advice.
I continue. “We all go through tough times. It’s part of life. It’s alright to mourn any loss for a reasonable amount of time. But if it’s at the expense of everything you value, when does it stop being a mourning period and become a lifestyle you lead?”
I pause, letting that sink in. Raven doesn’t waiver, not giving anything away with her expressions.
“If he doesn’t know his behavior is affecting you negatively, he will not change,” I say as softly as I can.
Raven listens to my whole spiel without interrupting. When she is sure I am done, she speaks slowly. “He does know. I approached him twice about this.”
This is news to me. “He does?”
“You know, as well as I do, you cannot force anyone into something they are not ready for. Our discussions only made him more uncomfortable and embarrassed. The first time I approached him was when mom left. He was being reclusive and detached. I told him I needed him to step up as my father. He agreed, and it lasted about a week. It was like pulling teeth. Finally, he stopped trying. And he stopped wanting to be around me. My best guess? He was drowning in self-pity and couldn’t face the disappointment in my eyes. That’s when we decided to move to New York.”
“I thought Uncle John moved because my dad asked him to.” I am awed at all this new information.
“That was part of it. Once we moved here, I told him I needed him to do better. He tried his best. Then I caught him talking to Doctors Without Borders, about a possible assignment. It became clear to me. He needs to get away from here. I am a constant reminder of my mother, and my expectations are not making it better. Each time he is not able to meet them, he sinks further into self-loathing. Nowadays, he has been leaving the house before I wake up, coming home after I go to sleep. The few times I see him, he wears a look of guilt. It’s like, he knows he is not doing right by me, but doesn’t have the energy or the will power to change. So he avoids me.”