Perfectly Imperfect

I stared at the container before me, unsure of my decision. They had been given to me as a precaution, something that wasn't entirely intended to be used, but now I considered actually taking them. My mother knew of them but my father didn't. It had been her choice to withhold that information from him as she didn't think the news would be taken well by him. After all, they were pills to help steady my nerves. Before going away, I would've never dreamt of needing them to function.

The decision was made as I picked up the container and removed the lid. I slipped two pills into my mouth before picking up the water I had prepared and taking a big mouthful. I replaced the container in my drawer before leaving my bedroom, heading downstairs to put the glass in the kitchen. My mother was in the lounge and called me in as I was leaving the kitchen.

"Spencer darling, would you be a dear and fetch a bottle of wine my mother likes from the shops? You know, the red one?" she asked, peering over the book she was reading.

"I thought we still had some in the rack?"

"So did I, but when I went to look there was none there. I wouldn't ask if we had a shopping order being made before her arrival, but she arrives tomorrow and we don't have one for a few more days."

I gave a nod. "Of course. I'll go now."

The shop I had to go to was only ten minutes away and when I got there I paused just outside the door, my hand slipping into my pocket to grip my phone. There was a message from Frost that I hadn't replied to sitting on it and I hoped that having taken these pills, I'd be able to be in a better mindset to give him a reply of substance.

I browsed the wine shelves, scanning each bottle for the one I knew my mother wanted, and just as I was reaching to grab the bottle, I heard someone call my name. Making sure I had a tight grip on the neck of it, I brought it from the shelf and turned around, surprised at who stood before me. "Michael?" I said.

"So it is you," he said, a glimmer of a smile on his face. "I weren't sure whether I was seeing things."

I scratched the back of my neck, unsure about what to say to him. I'd never expected to see him again, least of all in a shop. Maybe an event or function, but definitely not a shop. "I didn't think you lived round here."

"I don't," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Well, I didn't. I got disowned and have reconnected with the poor side of my family. Now I'm taking classes for something I actually enjoy."

"You got...disowned?" I frowned.

"Crazy, huh? All that time, ah, studying and it ended up with the opposite effect."

The wine bottle felt heavy in my grasp so I grabbed the bottom with one hand. "That's just...I don't even know what to say."

He shrugged and nodded towards the bottle. "Drinking out the memories?"

I shook my head. "My mother."

His lip curled. "Being disowned was the best thing that ever happened to me," he said. "It showed me just how much I hated my mother for sending me there."

"She thought it was best--"

"Don't sprout that shit to me. I know what to say, when to say it, but I gave that up. You look like I did when I went home - dressed nicely with poorly concealed bags beneath your eyes. You're not sleeping either. I've spoke to six other people and they either had nightmares or were unable to sleep without pills to put them there."

I wanted to be anywhere but with him. His anger, his frustration - I didn't want to see any of it. My initial fleeting happiness over seeing him had extinguished upon learning that he no longer lived with his mother. That knowledge frightened me. If that could happen to him, it could happen to me. "I have to go," I said, tightening my grip on the bottle as I walked past him.

"Clare killed herself," he said, making me stop in my tracks. "Two weeks after she left she hung herself. Guess she couldn't hack being perfect."

His words followed after me as I hurried to pay before leaving the shop. I didn't once stop on my journey home, and when I arrived I deposited the bottle in the kitchen and hurried up to my room, making sure to close my door as I entered. I fished out my phone and opened the text from Frost, letting his words wash over me in an attempt to drown out that encounter.

Frost: You weren't there. It was terrible. Might as well quit before you waste any more time on me.

I threw my phone on my bed and stripped out my clothes before heading into the bathroom and locking the door. I turned the shower on and sat beneath the stream as it slowly began to warm up.

He was right. I did want to quit, to stop having to spend the time trying to shape him to be like me, but I also knew I was being counted on as the last hope. The one to make him see sense, to see that everything they want for us is for the best. After all, I was prime example of how well a little persuasion works. I had become everything that my parents wanted from me, and maybe even a little better.

But the more time I spent with him, the more I didn't want him to become like me. I tried to smother that thought, to ensure that I followed what my mother wanted, what his mother wanted, but his freedom and desire to be what he wanted still appealed to me, even though I had already come to terms with the idea of that never being doable for me.

Once the water had reached its highest temperature, I stood and turned it off, stepping out and wrapping myself in the towel that was already hanging on the railing. My head felt clearer as I went back into my room and exchanged my towel for my dressing gown. I picked up my phone and got up Frost's message again.

Spencer: You're too negative. You focus on the one thing you did wrong and forget that you spoke to your father's associates, more than you have before. That's proof that I'm not wasting my time.

I got changed into some casual clothes to wear around the house and just as I was about to sit on my bed, my name was called. My mother was stood at the bottom of the stairs when I appeared. "I just received a phonecall from my mother. She's arriving a day early, which is a surprise to me. I'm not sure how far away she is so would you please make sure the guestroom is ready and phone your father for me? He won't shout at you, my darling."

"Of course," I said, turning to head back up the stairs.

"You really are a lovely boy, Spencer. I am so proud of you," she said, making me look back at her. I gave her a smile before continuing on my way.

The guestroom was situated across from my parents' room, and when I opened the door I could smell the fresh scent of newly washed bedding. There was a bedspread covering the bed and I removed that before I inspected the covers and made sure there were four pillows at the head end of the bed. I then check under the bed and in the wardrobe to ensure there was nothing that wasn't supposed to be in the room before leaving.

There was a phone on a small table in the hall. I picked it up and dialled the number for my father, unsure how this would go. He picked up on the second ring. "Hello?" he said.

"I was told to let you know that our guest is arriving today."

"Your mother told you to tell me, didn't she? I told her not to invite that woman but she never listens to me," he said irritably. "When is she arriving?"

"Mother said she's not sure how far away she is."

There was a sigh. "I know what that means. That damn woman will be there before I'm home. Why your mother can't tell me herself is just beyond ridiculous," my father snapped, and I could imagine him shaking his head. "I shouldn't be too long here, and tell her that next time she wants to tell me something about that woman, that she ought to do it herself instead of hiding behind you."

I put the phone down once he'd hung up and took a deep breath. Knowing that my mother would want me downstairs, I made my way down and found her in the lounge. She rose when I entered the room. "Come, let's be at the door when my mother arrives," she said, putting her arm around my shoulder and guiding me to the front door.

"I thought you didn't know when she was arriving?"

"Just received a message from her. She should be pulling up any minute now."

My mother let go of me as she opened the door, and true enough a car was parking outside. I watched as the door opened and the woman stepped out, surprised that she seemed to have aged in the months I hadn't seen her. "I am so glad that God awful journey is over with," she exclaimed as she sauntered up to the door. "You couldn't live any closer to me?"

"You know why we live here, Mother," my mother replied, embracing the older woman.

When the woman turned to me, I gave her a smile. "Hi, Grandma."

Her eyes creased as she looked me up and down before she brought me in for a tight hug. "Oh bless you, Spencer! You've grown so much. Look at you!" She pulled away and patted my cheek. "You have to tell me all about what you studied when you went away. Did your mother tell you that she didn't even give me a postal address to write to you? No, of course not. Anything to keep me away from you."

"Mother," my mother warned, closing the front door.

"Don't deny it. You do everything in your power to prevent my visits, and if it wasn't for Spencer, I don't think I'd even bother with you."

Never had I witnessed an encounter like this between them. My father had made his dislike for the woman very clear my whole life whereas my mother had always been the one to actively invite her to visit and see me. Had something happened in the past few months? I felt like an outsider watching the two women.

My mother gave her a tight-lipped smile before directing us into the lounge. We sat down, my mother on one settee and me and her mother on the other. "Doesn't he look smart without that wild hair?" she said.

"He looks like his father," my grandma replied curtly, inspecting my appearance. "You always liked your hair long. What made you cut it?"

"It didn't suit him," my mother replied.

"I wasn't talking to you."

I tried to lighten the situation by smiling and ruffling my hair. "I grew out of it. Now I barely have to worry about it in the mornings."

The woman pursed her lips. "I suppose," she muttered. "You look like the spit of your father now. It's really quite disturbing."

"Mother!"

"Oh hush, you," she snapped before patting my hand. "Now, tell me all about when you were away. What did you study?"

"Can we not have dinner first?" my mother interrupted. "You're here for a few days, you don't have to bombard him with all these questions now. Just spend time with him before you pick apart his life for once."

My grandma rose to her feet. "Fine," she replied. "I'm going to put my bags in my room."

"I'll help you," my mother replied, giving me a look as she followed the older woman out the room.

I was left by myself, wondering when my family became so hostile towards one another. They definitely hadn't been like this before I went away. So what had happened during that time?