Don't Touch Me, Hold My Hand

2

I was the first one home. Sometimes I liked having the house to myself because I felt free enough to just exist. I usually played my music outside of my airpods and made an actual snack that required ingredients and dancing around the kitchen. I'd start my homework over by the living room window where I could allow myself small moments of distraction to watch the bunnies and squirrels hop around the backyard, and when I got sick of memorizing the articles of the constitution and all their different sections I'd lay in the floor and contemplate existence.

Now, these are all things I could do with my family home, of course, but I always ended up going back to my room after my parents came home. We all ate dinner together, and if there was a game on, I'd watch it with Dad and Isaac while mom sat in the corner cross-stitching. But as far as doing my own thing goes, I went to my room for that. I felt weird, not like I was in the way, but just...just awkward if I were to be doing something individually while everyone else was still around me. I don't know. I don't like calling attention to myself.

After school traffic had been extra difficult this afternoon, so I only had about an hour before my parents got home. Isaac wouldn't be home until this weekend, but his presence was evident in every room, from the random clothes strewn about to the dishes and game controllers laying all over the place. I sighed and dropped my backpack on the couch before reaching down to pick up all Isaac's stuff.

Dumping his controllers on his bed and bringing all the dishes to the sink I started running water and filling the dishwasher. It would make my parents happy to see a clean sink when they got home.

Figuring I had time before Mom came home, I turned some music on and let it play throughout the house. I opened the blinds and let the natural light stream through the kitchen. Mom had picked fresh roses for the table earlier this morning, and the droplets of water refracted the light into pretty rainbows and shadows on the walls around the dining table.

I was closing the dishwasher up and turning the dial to "normal wash" when a throwback classic started blasting through my phone's speakers. Naturally, I did what anyone would do. I started to hardcore white girl dance. And goodness, was it horrific. And freeing. Probably the most fun I'd had all day. I usually contain my inner goofy side because it tends to annoy people, but I was home alone! So I flailed my arms and jumped around and banged my elbow on the counter and hopped on one foot while cradling said elbow and also still doing body rolls at the same time because the show must go on.

I'm really a marvel performer.

I also must have been deaf because I didn't hear the garage door open during all my hopping around, or our house alarm system say "garage door" in her silly robotic voice while I was body rolling and throwing it back for our oven and fridge. Unfortunate.

My mom walked in.

"Laura, why is it so loud, turn that down!" Mom started before she even got to the kitchen. I heard her before she walked in, but I was too far into my stanky leg rendition (and my, was it stanky) to stop before Mom saw me. I just stared at her with a silly grimace on my face as she just blinked at me, setting her purse down on the counter and removing her phone from her ear. Hanging up she gave me a firm look and snapped at my phone.

"Turn it. Down." And with one final confused glance around the kitchen, she left the room.

Ah, well.

One can only go so long without embarrassing themselves in front of their parents. My record is three days, and I have yet to beat it.

The final beats of the song faded and reluctantly I showcased one last mournful head whip and body roll before turning the music off completely.

In the silence I heard Mom's heels clicking around in one of the back rooms, probably moving boxes of files in from the garage to her office. I should probably help her. Ya know, work off my embarrassment and all.

Snagging an apple juice box from the fridge I made my way to the back of the house where, sure enough, Mom was unloading boxes of Manila folders from her stash in the garage into her home office.

Mom glanced up at me, a frown on her face, but I knew it wasn't towards me. Her Bluetooth was practically attached to her ear at this point, and Isaac, Dad, and I had learned early on to only ever expect a fraction of Mom's attention and availability.

Ignoring the muttering argument Mom was having with probably another sucky intern, I slid past her and picked up a box.

Ten minutes later, I set the last box down in her office floor and heaved a deep breath. This had to be a month's worth of work at least. When I was little, Mom had let me go with her to some of her court proceedings, and I'd thought she was the most amazing woman in the room.

I still think she's great, but I no longer aspire to be a lawyer. I'd be in my grave before receiving my JD due to stress alone. And then the insane work load added on top of that? No thanks.

I'd already acquiesced the role of "Lawyer Child Following Parent's Footsteps" to Isaac. Unlike me, he actually worked well under pressure, had a passion for law and policy, and somehow could handle heavy and intense cases without crumbling under the assumed weight of the world. Impressive.

I envied him.

Always three years behind him, I'd done nothing but look up to him my whole life. Sure, we had the really rough years a while back during both our puberty stages. He said mean things and annoyed me, or ignored me completely, and I hassled him into things he didn't wanna do and annoyed him at any given opportunity.

But we loved each other.

We weren't as close as some sibling pairs I was friends with, but that didn't matter.

At the end of the day, when Mom clicked her heels and gave me judgmental once-overs, and when Dad forgot crucial information I'd been trying to tell him for a week, or on the off-chance when both Mom and Dad accidentally over-scheduled themselves and ended up missing my birthday, Isaac came through.

He crossed his arms and rolled his eyes and made faces, but he didn't ever look like he was judging me. He remembered the bands I listened to. He brought home an ice cream cake for my birthday. He came through.

Now that he was off at college, only coming home a few weekends here and there, I saw him less, so we talked less. I didn't miss him like I assumed other kids missed their older siblings when they moved out because the last few years of Isaac being home we were pretty distant anyways.

Maybe not distant....Independent.

He was living his life, I was living mine.

And now we're both living our lives still, just more separate than before.

And still, besides all that, I knew I could count on him. As indifferent as he acted towards me, I knew out of loyalty and obligation at least, he cared about my well being.

And sibling rivalry be damned, I looked up to him and loved him anyway.

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Author's Note:

eeeeeek another chapter!!!

and my Olivia Rodrigo merch came in!!

all v v good things, good good good.

thank you for reading !!!!!

gumdrop <3