RIVETED

5. I'm Done

Two days after the outing with my bandmates, I parked outside my parents’ two-story house at barely ten a.m. It was Saturday, and we usually spent weekends together. My sister Romy got here from Emerport last night, but I preferred to spend Friday evening chilling at home alone. 

Romy was eighteen, though. She missed our parents and our childhood home way more. I’d been living on my own for a while, unlike her.

As I unlocked the door and stepped into the foyer, loud voices reached my ears. Fuck. It was too early for yelling, but my parents clearly disagreed.

Ignoring the scream fest upstairs, I kicked off my sneakers and headed to the kitchen. I found Romy there just like I thought I would. She was sitting at the table with a mug of coffee in her hands.

“Hi, Rom,” I said, bending to kiss her cheek.

“Hi, Jay. Listen.” She rested the mug on the table and held her finger up. “Today’s argument would make a great song. You. Ruined. My. Life. I. Wasted. So. Much. Time.” She tapped her foot on the floor to each word, shaking her head. “Here comes the bridge. Instrumental. Guitar?” 

She plucked at the imaginary strings, and I pinched her cheeks. “Dork. How long have they been yelling?”

“Two hours and thirty-eight minutes.”

I heaved a sigh. “Fuck. So, they woke you up?”

Romy grabbed the mug and took a hearty sip. She always joked and pretended our parents’ fucked up relationship didn’t affect her, but I knew better than to believe her. Right now, she was trying hard not to cry, and I needed to do something.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s go have breakfast somewhere. Hopefully, they’ll take a break when we get back.”

Romy jumped off the chair. “Cool. Let me grab my purse.”

She dashed upstairs, and when she was back, holding an oversized black purse, I helped her put on her coat.

“How’s school?” I asked as we walked down our quiet street. A coffee house we both liked was nearby, and they had tons of desserts. One of those would cheer Romy up for sure. 

She hugged herself, staring at the sidewalk. “Cool. Harder than I thought it’d be, but hey, I’ve been there for almost a year and survived. That means something.”

Romy was studying to be a professional ballet dancer. She loved ballet just as much as I loved music, but music didn’t require that kind of sacrifice. I wasn’t one to tell her not to pursue her dream, though. She might not look like me—her hair was a lot lighter, and her eyes gray unlike my hazel ones, but we shared the same character trait—persistence. 

“You got this, Rom,” I said. “Just remember to rest.”

“You could teach me how to party.” Romy wiggled her eyebrows. 

I nudged her ribs. “I said rest, not party. You're too young for parties.”

Romy groaned. “And you're a giant, controlling ass. I'll party if I want to.”

“Sure, sure.” I ruffled her hair. “I'd worry if I didn't know your idea of a party is binging TV shows in your pjs.”

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes, walking faster. “If it were up to you, I'd spend every weekend at home for the rest of my life.”

That was a lie. I wanted her to go out, have fun, and make friends. I just happened to know a lot about the nightlife in Emerport, and that made me hate the idea of Romy setting foot in most clubs in the city.  

I wasn’t going to argue with her this morning, though. Our parents’ yelling still played like an annoying tune in my ears, and I’d only witnessed a few minutes of it. Romy had to endure that shitshow for way longer.

“I’ll order half of their desserts to punish you for being insufferable.” Romy marched to Coffee Break that lured customers in with sweet aromas and picture-worthy decorations.

I jogged to the entrance and pushed the door open for her. Romy huffed, unimpressed. I reminded myself not to bring up parties while we had breakfast.

We settled on cheesecake and lattes. When the server brought our order, Romy took a drink of her coffee and stared out the window, chewing on her bottom lip.

“Do you ever think it’s better to never get married, Jay?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about marriage, Rom.”

“I was just wondering,” Romy fixed her sad gray eyes on me, “how people can go from loving each other to calling each other names and slamming doors.”

I was wondering the same thing. It wasn’t so bad when we were kids, but now that we grew up, our parents seemed to forget they used to care about each other at all.

“Guess people change,” I said. “But it’s not our fault. Our folks are old enough to figure their shit out.”

Romy cut off a tiny piece of her cake. “It’d be nice to come home and not listen to their yelling for once.”

We ate in silence for a few moments. I’d have to order something else because I was sure it was too early to go back. 

“You said you’ve never thought about marriage,” Romy suddenly said. “But what about dating? Are you seeing someone?”

Ivy like the league popped up in my thoughts. Damn it. I was so proud of myself for not thinking about her today. I downed the rest of my latte. “Believe it or not, the only girl I sort of liked and wanted to get to know better refused to give me her number.”

Romy clapped, grinning from ear to ear. “I want to meet her. Your ego needed a bit of a reality check.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Rom,” I said. “Just when I was going to buy you another coffee, you go and spoil everything.”

Romy gave me a sugary smile. “She just needs to get to know you better. Sorry, Jay, that’s the best I can do.”

I chuckled, flagging the server. “I’ll take it.”

***

An hour later, we walked into our yard. As we took a few steps up the driveway, the front door burst open, and our father ran down the porch steps, hauling two large suitcases.

Romy and I looked at each other. Questions swam in her expressive eyes, and she could probably read the same questions in mine. Was it over? Did they finally decide to break up for good?

Dad stopped in his tracks when he saw us.

I drew an arm around Romy’s bony shoulders as he dragged the back of his hand over his forehead, his chest heaving.

“Jay. Romy. Kids, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, but that’s it. I’m done.”