Breach

I try to enter the apartment quietly. Either that was a failure or my parents were waiting for me because they both are in the living room. Wow, they’re in the same room? Impressive!

“Bishop, you’re back,” mom says around a smile. How come she never smiled at me like that until now? Oh right, I forgot, because she’s trying to be a kiss ass. Duh!

“Yeah.” I nod. My feet carry me swiftly to my room.

“Bishop we need to talk,” mom calls after me. Dad agrees with her, finally they agree. Good job! They should get an award.

I grunt. I have no greater wish than to retire to my room for the rest of the evening but I know they’ll only continue bugging me about it. One way or another I’m going to have to speak with them. Better now then later right? So I give in and face both of them.

Both seem shocked to see me willingly standing now, waiting for whatever it is they want to say. Dad looks to mom and she to him. Neither speak for a few moments.

They’re hesitant but dad eventually gets the courage to say, “Your mother will be moving out at the end of the week to stay with her sister until she gets a better place.”

When I don’t suddenly blow a cap mom takes that as her turn to speak, “You know my sister isn’t within this school district so you’ll be staying here with your dad…unless you don’t want to.”

I gasp sarcastically and dramatically throw my hands to my cheeks. My eyes widen in pretend shock. “I get a choice? Oh mommy thanks!”

“Bishop,” dad growls. He’s about to lecture me on how I’m acting too childishly about this. I don’t care though. I’ve given up on trying to work with these two. It’s impossible.

This family has been broken since the beginning. They have never given any effort to make themselves or me happy. What makes them think I’m not going to be childish about this?

Later on I may look back on this time and think how much of a brat I was but right now it feels right. It feels like I have every right to act the way I am.

“Whatever, I’m staying here. I have no desire to leave my senior year.” I throw open my bedroom door and hide myself within my room. It’s silent on the other side of my door but only for a few moments before their bickering starts once more.

They’re arguing over money, furniture and surprisingly me. I scoff. They act like I’m some kind of toy or something that they can share. I am not a toy. They aren’t “sharing” me. Last time I checked neither of them were parents to me. They can’t start now.

As I lie in bed I can’t help but think back to Antony. It’s been a little over a week since we’ve last spoken. There have been no text messages, no calls. He’s an adult. He has a job. He’s probably busy but…he said that he would be willing to listen to me right?

My eyes glance to my cell phone resting on the bed side table. My fingers twitch at the thought of sending a message but as I reach for it I can’t help but think how bothersome I could be. I’m just some dumb teenager he met after getting drunk. Antony probably just said he would listen because he didn’t want to be rude.

But if that’s true he wouldn’t have given me his number, would he?

I bite my lip and slowly grasp my phone. I type out the message even slower and my thumb hesitates for what feels like minutes before finally pressing send. I read over the message I had sent, hey you said you’d be willing to listen right?

I lay my phone down gently, so gently one would think I was handling a bomb or something.

What if he doesn’t answer? What if he really doesn’t want to listen? Why does it even matter? I’ve never had someone to talk to about this. There’s Mick but he doesn’t really understand. He has a great life. There are no family problems, well other than your typical arguments but it’s normal. He has a loving girlfriend and great friends.

Mick can listen but he can’t understand. He doesn’t know the feelings that I have. All Mick can do is hear what I want to say but not respond. I just need…no I think it’s just that I want someone to relate to.

Other then Mick I don’t have anyone to talk to. I have a few people at school I talk to but not about anything serious. They’re just acquaintances…Antony is an acquaintance too, I suppose but he’s different. His situation is similar to my own. We can relate.

Groaning, I thrash my arms and legs childishly against the mattress. If there is anyone out there listening, please, please let Antony reply. Our ages differ greatly but before we spoke together so well. Even if it’s just one message I’d like to see what he says.

Please. Please. Please!

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

I jolt from my position on the bed to quickly catch my phone that’s vibrating its way off the table. The device nearly slips through my fingers but I mange to bring to my chest. It lights up and I smile at the name flashing across the screen.

Flipping open my phone I read the text message I receive, Honestly, listening to a brat complain isn’t on my important things to do list but I suppose I could lend an ear.

Brat? Not important? Suppose he could lend an ear? Someone explain why I wanted to talk to him again…? I must be pretty desperate.

Yet I still smile and ask if it was all right to call. When he calls me I take that as a yes. I don’t even bother saying hello when I answer. Everything has been bottled up that my mouth just kind of opens and everything that has happened this last week spews out without meaning to but Antony simply hums to show that he is listening to every word.

He never interrupts. He just quietly listens until my rant is over. When I finally regain my composure I notice that my cheeks feel strange. My nose is heavy and something is starting to leak. I’m crying. I don’t know if it’s from anger or grief. It doesn’t matter I guess.

“It’s understandable for you to feel the way you do,” Antony says calmly. “Things now are crazy, for the both of us. The only way to get through this really is just to talk about it. Don’t keep everything bottled up, all right? I’m always here to listen…even if I don’t really want to.”

Sniffling, I wipe the tears from my cheeks. I manage to say through hiccups, “You know you have nothing better to do old man.”

Antony snorts. “Yeah, whatever you say brat.”

Oh yeah…that’s why.