Forevermore

Two

An orchestral cover of Lana Del Rey's Salvatore is playing from my computer's speakers when I hear the sound of the front door opening then closing.

That means Dad and Lucas are back from practice.

I click one of the side buttons on the phone to read the time. 8:03.

I don't remember time passing by so quickly. Last I checked, it was four, I'd just woken up from my after school nap and I was creating a study guide with what I've learned in my biology class so far–I like making them early so that I don't have to sort through all my notes for the dreaded tests.

It's just now that I'm noticing the dark blue skies and the hollow feeling in my stomach.

"Indi!" My dad yells from downstairs. "Come eat!"

I get up from my desk chair with a small smile on my face.

It's not until I'm halfway down the stairs that I remember Lucas's new friend. My steps come to a halt and I wait for some kind of clue as to whether or not he's here.

It's not like he hangs out with me, but for some reason, I still get socially exhausted when other people come over and part of me gets filled with dread as I begin walking again, this time much slower than before.

"I'm gonna go shower real quick," I hear my brother say.

"Hurry," Dad replies. "The food's going to get cold."

"It's a salad, Dad," Lucas's voice gets closer to the stairs. "The worry should be about it losing its coldness."

"The worry should be about losing its coldness," my dad mocks in a high-pitched voice causing another person to let out deep chuckles.

Of course.

That rumbling laughter is one I've become familiar with because even when he's over, my dad still makes me eat at the dinner table.

Lucas comes into view and rushes up the stairs, brushing past me as if I'm not even here.

"Excuse you," I mutter in frustration.

"Indi," Dad says once I enter the kitchen. "Come hold Honey while I go out and water the garden. He won't stop following me everywhere."

For a foster dog that had just come to live with us two weeks ago, Honey has quite the attachment issues. She follows my father like she's his own personal shadow.

I let out a sigh, ignoring the presence of the other guy in the room as I lean down to grab the golden retriever's green collar.

Dad steps out into the backyard, leaving me and Ezra awkwardly alone.

"Not a big fan, huh?" Ezra's tired voice cuts through the air.

I look up from Honey to see him sitting at the small dining table in the corner of the kitchen. He's still in his baseball uniform. White pants covered in the brown dirt that comes from the field, as well as the team's black jersey and a Mariners baseball cap on his head.

There's four chairs and he is currently sitting in mine–as he always does because I've yet to correct him.

"You're fine," I say, straightening up without sparing a glance in the dog's direction.

Ezra grins. "Not of me." His eyes shift to the golden retriever.

I furrow my eyebrows, walking over to the table. "Honey? She's...she's fine too, I guess."

I've learned not to get attached to the dogs over the years. My dad has fostered at least twenty, each gone within six months. It took four for me to realize that none of them were going to stay. I didn't get it at first–why he would want to put himself through that heartbreak–but I realize now that it's because of his ruthless selflessness.