Nathan Kingston has been forgotten by the world. A dad that fucked off when he was young and a mother gone days at a time with work he feels alone. Especially since he goes to the most elite private school in the city on scholarship. He's falling do...
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Nathan Kingston
I start the walk up the five flights of stairs leading to my apartment already out of breath. The sound of the pipe in the ceiling still dripping greet me as unlock the front door and close the door behind me.
My pissy mood does not improve as I empty out the bucket of drip water onto the sink and place it back in its spot, picking my backpack up from the entryway and slamming the door to my room.
I have a rare Thursday night off because we have a big event happening at the restaurant and they don't need me so I finally have an afternoon to catch up with all my pressing assignments. I get some done while I'm tutoring Ivy but not nearly as much as I should because I'm helping her and I can't stop staring at her when she's all concentrated and working.
I take my school-issued MacBook out of my bag while I sit at the decaying desk that can barely fit in my room. The screen glows with my last open assignment, the start of a model for my hypothetical architectural re-design of 432 Park Avenue.
We all were assigned different controversial buildings around New York, and were given the task to redesign them in a way that would make them more structurally sound and less controversial.
I work on my redesign for hours until my eyes bleed and I hear the lock clicking on the front door, letting me know that my mom is home.
Once the door slams behind my mother she calls out to me, "Nathan! Get in here and help me unpack the groceries."
I save my progress on my project and stand from my desk, stretching my arms overhead and wiping my eyes from staring at a screen for hours.
"Coming Ma!" I scream back at her but I don't really need to, immediately stepping out of my bedroom and being transported to the kitchen.
She ambles over to me and stands on her tiptoes, ruffling my hair before placing a kiss on my cheek and retreating back to the grocery bags at hand, "how's school going? Those spoiled brats aren't giving you any trouble are they?"
I walk over next to her, grabbing a couple of boxes of uncooked pasta and putting them in one of the cabinets "Schools going fine, Ma. How was work?"
She takes a step back and cracks her back, loup pops echoing from every twist and turn."These long stints aren't making me any younger. I told them I'd do 3-day trips max but this one was a week." Resuming her putting away of groceries she changes the subject, "Did you get the text from Randy?"
I grab some cans of soup and put them next to the pasta, hoping my mom doesn't see the clenched jaw and the white knuckles around the cans, "you mean the money-sucking leech who raised our rent by $400 without actually doing shit. Yeah, I saw the text."
My mom whaps me with one of the kitchen towels, shouting "language!" at me while I go back to lean on my bedroom door's frame.
"I'm gonna go back to working on my homework. I have a bunch of assignments piling up. What time is dinner?"
