Difference Between

Chapter 14 - Saturday Conversations

Once I'm done with all my chores, I start to crawl out my window onto the roof to call Dad when the doorbell rings. I check the time. It's barely 7:30 right now. It can't be August. He said he's busy today, and he wouldn't come this early anyway. But... a part of me is hoping. Just so I can apologize about... something... Maybe it's a good thing if it's not August since I have no idea what I'm actually apologizing for and that doesn't count as an apology.

Mom is already at the door by the time I reach the bottom of the stairs. She's wearing a thin jacket over her pajamas, and her tawny brown hair is still tangled from sleep. Her shoulders are set back, and she grips the door handle like she's about to slam it shut. A moment later, though, her shoulders relax and her grip loosens. I walk a little farther until I can see past her, and I gasp.

"Dad!" I exclaim.

I run around Mom and throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his waist. He laughs, returning my hug. "Good to see you, too, Ashlyn."

I pull away, shoving my hands into my hoodie pocket, smiling up at him. "What are you doing here?"

"Just thought I'd come to see you and your brother in person this week. And since you're gonna hang out with August later today, I thought it's probably best if I come early."

I interlace my fingers in my pocket, digging my nails into my skin. "No worries. We're not hanging out today."

Dad's eyes widen. "Really?"

Is it really such a routine thing now that Dad's surprised that we're not hanging out? "Yeah. Really."

A crease forms between his eyebrows. "Huh..."

Mom picks up on the change of mood, and I hear her shift behind me. "Is something wrong?"

I spare Mom a glance over my shoulder, but I focus on Dad. I see Dad glance at Mom, arching an eyebrow. I'm sure Mom is narrowing her eyes at me, though. Not that it matters. Not when she sided with Marcus twice now, thinks I'm the one that starts the fights with Marcus, and then went and started the fight herself yesterday.

So I let the heat in my chest simmer as I focus on Dad and tell him, "He said he's busy today."

Which August did, but yes, there is something wrong. I'm just too clueless and a bad friend to figure out what that is apparently. Or I just don't really want to think about what it is. Or I'm too busy being mad to think about it. But I'm sure I'll talk it out with Dad later like I always do.

"So should I wake up Don?" I ask.

"No." Dad puts a hand on my head. "Let your brother sleep. We can hang out now, and then I'll hang out with him later today."

I nod. "Okay. Let me go change, and then we can head out."

I walk around Mom and run upstairs. A few minutes later, I come back downstairs, pulling a jacket on and lifting my bag over my head so the strap sits across my chest. My footsteps slow when I hear Mom's and Dad's voices drift from around the corner. They're not yelling like they used to before the divorce, but I still don't want to walk in on their conversation. I pause just where they can't see me and lean against the wall.

"... don't know what's wrong," Mom is saying.

"She isn't coming to you, is she?" Dad asks.

A chair scrapes across the floor, and the kitchen table creaks. "No. Not really. Ashlyn--" Oh shit... "--usually comes to you. Still does. And I understand why, but sometimes it feels like I should be the one she comes to since I'm right here."

"Well..." Another chair scrapes across the floor. "I think maybe she feels awkward coming to you now." Mom doesn't say anything in response, so Dad elaborates, "Because maybe she thinks you're not gonna react well to what she says about what's going on considering... everything..."