When Life Doesn't Give You Enough Cards to Play the Game, You Deal
Chapter 4
“I’ll be in my room. Try not to set the place on fire.” Chance said on his way to his room.
“No promises.” I mumbled after he left.
I walked into the living room and searched for the remote. I checked under the couch cushions, in front of the TV, on top of the TV, and I even checked under the couch and on all the side tables.
It was no where to be found. I sighed in frustration, running a hand over my face. I padded my way down to Chances room and knocked on the door. Maybe he would know where it was.
When he didn’t answer, I figured maybe he didn’t hear me, so I knocked again, but this time harder.
Still no answer. Ignore me, will you? I took the cool handle in my hand and opened the door.
Chance was sitting on the floor with headphones in and what looked like a photo album in his hands. Upon further inspection I realized there was a little stream of tears coming out of his left eye.
It took him a few moments for him to realize that I had entered, and when he did he slammed the photo album shut and threw it on his bed. Taking his headphones out, he gave me a death glare.
“Have you ever heard of knocking?” He asked, trying to sound threatening, but with his sniffling and wiping his tears away, it didn’t really come through.
“Well…I knocked, but you didn’t answer, so I just…came in.” I explained.
“Oh.” His gaze dropped down to his hands on his upward pointed knees.
“Are you okay?” I asked, cautiously stepping toward him.
“I’m fine!” He snapped.
I walked over to his bed, and before he could stop me, I flipped open the photo album. The first page was filled with pictures of a pretty woman who had the same hazel eyes and dark brown hair as Chance.
“Are these pictures of your mom?” I asked.
“Why do you care?” He asked venomously.
“What happened to her?” I asked, ignoring his previous question.
He looked like he was about to snap at me again, but then he spoke.
“She got Cancer.” He said quietly.
“I know how you feel.” I sympathized.
“You do?” He asked, staring up at me with sparkling hazel eyes.
It occurred to me now that this was probably the reason he was so cold to everyone. He was trying to cover up the hurt. It was almost refreshing to see his soft side, but at the same time, it made me want to wrap my arms around him and let him cry into my shoulder.
“Yeah, my mom died when I was 14.” I said, sitting down on his bed.
“Can I ask you something?” He said, coming to sit next to me.
“Sure.”
“Why are you here?” He asked.
“Ran away from home.” I answered simply.
“But why?”
“Abusive dad.” I said nonchalantly.
His face paled. I could see the guilt on his face.
“Look, I’m sorry I was such a jerk.” He apologized. “I just hate it that my dad has to work all the time and he never has time for me. And then you add another person to the mix, and that means less than no time.” He explained.
“It’s okay.” I shrugged.
“But this still doesn’t mean that we are friends.”
“Sure it doesn’t.” I taunted.
“Okay, it does.” He gave in.
“No promises.” I mumbled after he left.
I walked into the living room and searched for the remote. I checked under the couch cushions, in front of the TV, on top of the TV, and I even checked under the couch and on all the side tables.
It was no where to be found. I sighed in frustration, running a hand over my face. I padded my way down to Chances room and knocked on the door. Maybe he would know where it was.
When he didn’t answer, I figured maybe he didn’t hear me, so I knocked again, but this time harder.
Still no answer. Ignore me, will you? I took the cool handle in my hand and opened the door.
Chance was sitting on the floor with headphones in and what looked like a photo album in his hands. Upon further inspection I realized there was a little stream of tears coming out of his left eye.
It took him a few moments for him to realize that I had entered, and when he did he slammed the photo album shut and threw it on his bed. Taking his headphones out, he gave me a death glare.
“Have you ever heard of knocking?” He asked, trying to sound threatening, but with his sniffling and wiping his tears away, it didn’t really come through.
“Well…I knocked, but you didn’t answer, so I just…came in.” I explained.
“Oh.” His gaze dropped down to his hands on his upward pointed knees.
“Are you okay?” I asked, cautiously stepping toward him.
“I’m fine!” He snapped.
I walked over to his bed, and before he could stop me, I flipped open the photo album. The first page was filled with pictures of a pretty woman who had the same hazel eyes and dark brown hair as Chance.
“Are these pictures of your mom?” I asked.
“Why do you care?” He asked venomously.
“What happened to her?” I asked, ignoring his previous question.
He looked like he was about to snap at me again, but then he spoke.
“She got Cancer.” He said quietly.
“I know how you feel.” I sympathized.
“You do?” He asked, staring up at me with sparkling hazel eyes.
It occurred to me now that this was probably the reason he was so cold to everyone. He was trying to cover up the hurt. It was almost refreshing to see his soft side, but at the same time, it made me want to wrap my arms around him and let him cry into my shoulder.
“Yeah, my mom died when I was 14.” I said, sitting down on his bed.
“Can I ask you something?” He said, coming to sit next to me.
“Sure.”
“Why are you here?” He asked.
“Ran away from home.” I answered simply.
“But why?”
“Abusive dad.” I said nonchalantly.
His face paled. I could see the guilt on his face.
“Look, I’m sorry I was such a jerk.” He apologized. “I just hate it that my dad has to work all the time and he never has time for me. And then you add another person to the mix, and that means less than no time.” He explained.
“It’s okay.” I shrugged.
“But this still doesn’t mean that we are friends.”
“Sure it doesn’t.” I taunted.
“Okay, it does.” He gave in.