𝙋𝙀𝙍𝙁𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉 || EDDIE MUNSON

A Familiar Disaster

ARRIVING home Brandy opened the door to their house, the decor was very polished and in order, not a piece of mail sat on the counter nor were there any shoes lying by the front door haphazardly, it was a Friday afternoon normally her mom had something cooking by now. And the house was never this organized.

"Mama?" She called as she placed her backpack by the front door.

"Oh!" Atta Leblanc called from the kitchen, "How was school dear?" she asked. Brandy walked to the kitchen to find her mother opening up two beers.

"It was fine, I was just focused on coming home, I wanted to make sure you were alright," Brandy said with a questioning look on her face.

"I'm your mother, I should be the one doing that," She said with a disappointed look.

"I'm doing as well as I usually am around this time of year," she said. "I was wondering what you wanted to do for dinner tomorrow, maybe some chicken poppy seed casserole. Her dad's favorite.

"Well, actually the thing is," Atta sighed, "I was going to go on a date tomorrow night,"

A flash of hurt spread across Brandy's face, "Tomorrow?"

"I have to get back out there sometime, Bea." Her mom shook her head.

"I know that-" Brandy said in frustration, she took a deep. "But on the anniversary?"

"We have to move on, at some point, Brandy." her mother shook her head as she took a swig of her beer. "And Micheal- Mr. Matthews, he's a very kind man-"

Their squabble was interrupted as the bathroom door opened and Mr. Matthews, their neighbor, strolled into the living room.

"Oh," he looked at the two, "Did I interrupt something?"

"Yes!" Brandy blurted.

"Brandy Cherish!" Atta scolded, shaking her head of brown hair.

"Whatever," Brandy shook her head, rushing to her room. She shut the door loudly. Leaning against the door she took a shaky breath before turning to her closet, she ripped the door open, rummaging around the shelves. "I can't believe her," Brandy muttered angrily. Grabbing an old shoebox she threw it on her bed, going through the box of her dad's belongings she shoved away photos, letters, and birthday cards aside, and grabbing the walkman and cassette tapes she plugged in her headphones.

Her hands fumbled to put in a Kiss tape as she put her headphones on, she pressed play, collapsing onto her bed. She let the music soothe her ears, tapping her fingers to the beat on her knees.

It had been five years, five. Sure her mom deserved to find love again, but on his death day? Something about it made her unreasonably angry, Brandy was always so good at bottling up her anger, letting it diffuse into nothing. Like a crashing wave that would eventually mellow back out and back into a sea of calmness. She wondered what her dad would think of the whole ordeal, she sat up, picking up a polaroid from her ninth birthday. She really looked nothing like her mother apart from her eyes and jawline. Her curly blonde hair, her nose and lips, even the freckles she tried so desperately to cover, it was all him. All of it.

She was certain he wouldn't want to sulk around like this, to try too desperately to fit in, to put up with how those around her spoke to her. But it was all she knew what to do after so many years. She placed the photo propped on her pillow, turning over on her stomach she gazed at the picture through mascara-coated lashes. Until the music in her ears eventually eased to into a dull slumber.

"I'm sorry about her," Atta apologized to Micheal, "She's normally very mild-mannered and doesn't speak out of turn."

"It's all good," He waved a hand, "She's a teenager, and the day that's coming up, I can understand why she's upset,"