The Christmas Olympics

The Art of Apologizing - Part I

It was an awkward ride home. Miles didn't speak. He turned the music up and drove us home. He didn't say a word when we got out of the car or when we stepped inside the house. Instead, he went straight to his room.

"Dramatic," I muttered.

I changed in lounge wear, made a cup of coffee, and sat down on the couch to watch the Hallmark channel for the rest of the evening. I tried not to think about my brother's anger or Arden's bloody face, but the more I sat on the couch and tried to push them from my mind, the more stubborn the thought became and planted itself in my brain until I was able to focus on anything else.

I went to Miles' room and knocked on the door. A disgruntled "come in" resounded from the other side. I tentatively opened the door and found my brother watching a movie.

"What?" he asked.

"Do you want to go get food?"

He glared at me for a moment, then sighed. "Fine. I'll grab my coat."

We climbed into my car and sat in silence while it heated up.

"So . . ." I began, letting my words fall off. I waited for Miles to give me an indication he had heard me. I saw his eyes flicker to mine. "Where do you want to eat?"

Miles looked at me for a moment, then told me to drive. "Turn left onto Sycamore. Then in half a mile, turn left on Birch."

I nodded and followed his instructions. I turned on the radio so we wouldn't be sitting in silence, but I also hoped Miles would start talking; he was always good about filling in those empty spaces with words. But he didn't tonight and I squirmed under the weight of his disappointment. When he finally told me to park, I broke.

"I'm sorry, okay? I can't do the silent treatment anymore. Please talk to me. You're literally my only friend."

"Do you even know why you're apologizing?"

"Of course I do."

"Then tell me."

"Because I threw a snowball at Arden."

"Because you threw it at her face and hurt her and for some stupid high school rivalry! It's childish, Morgan. You've always been mature and I don't understand what's gotten into you?"

I gripped the steering wheel.

"You wouldn't understand," I mumbled.

"Try me."

I hesitated. "You know how hard I worked in school."

"Yeah?"

"Well, every time I tried really, really hard at something, Arden was always there to do just a little bit better than me. This happened all the time. Anything I tried to do, Arden was there to one-up me. And. . . Well, it started to get really fucking old after a while and it made me feel like shit about myself. Like, no matter how hard I tried, she'd just be there to do better than me. At anything. At everything. And now I'm back in Maple fucking Springs and we're right back to where we started: Arden just doing better than me all over again and I'm just—I'm just pathetic."

I didn't look at Miles as I spoke. I felt tears prickling the corners of my eyes. I hated talking about my feelings, especially with my brother. It was so much easier to be aloof.

"You're not pathetic," my brother said softly.

I laughed sardonically. "Yeah, right. What part of my life doesn't scream pathetic? I'm exiled to my hometown that I tried to get out of because my girlfriend broke up with me and now I don't have a place to live and no hospital will hire me, so I don't have any money to find a place for myself. Oh—and not to mention the mountain of student debt I'm in that I can't even begin to wrap my head around. Then I try to participate in stupid Maple Springs activities and then there's Arden: here to make me remember just how pathetic I was in high school and how much better she'll always be than me."