You And Me Both

I what??

Marshal

Before I leave the house, there's this unsettling routine my father puts me through. He'll come up real close, eyes bloodshot and unkempt, and give me this once-over look that sends shivers down my spine. Then, with a gruff voice, he'll mumble something like, "You're free to go."

I'm never quite sure why he does it, but it always makes me uneasy, like he's about to explode any moment. Yet, he never does. It's like his way of asserting dominance, a reminder that he's the one in charge around here. And every time, it just adds to the fear I have of him.

I don't resemble my father in the slightest. His friends used to tease him about it, saying I'm not really his son, that my mother must have cheated on him. As much as I wished it were true, it's not. He even made me undergo a DNA test to prove it, only to fall silent when the results confirmed I was indeed his flesh and blood.

But that doesn't stop him from taking his frustrations out on me, especially because I resemble my mother so much. It's not my fault I inherited her bone-straight platinum blonde hair and her piercing dark green eyes, almost mistaken for black in certain light.

He never liked it when I cried, especially after my mother left. I was just a child then, barely eight years old, yet he expected me to "toughen up and be a man." So, I learned to hide my tears, escaping to my car parked in empty lots to let the emotions flow in solitude.

And that's exactly what I did, time and time again, seeking solace in the silent sanctuary of my car as I grappled with the weight of my father's expectations and the absence of my mother.

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Berry

"I WHAT?!" The words echoed in my mind, disbelief coursing through every fiber of my being. There was no way I had won the lottery. Julia had to be messing with me again, but this time it wasn't funny.

Sometimes Julia and I would buy lottery tickets together, watching the numbers being drawn on the old TV perched on one of the shelves at the 7/11. But since I wasn't there this time, Julia had saved the recording for us to watch together later.

As I watched the screen, my mouth fell open in shock. They had just pulled all five of the numbers I chose, in order. I stared at my ticket, then back at the TV, then at Julia, disbelief washing over me. Hot tears streamed down my face as the realization sank in.

I couldn't believe it. The attention from other customers in the gas station was suddenly suffocating, and I felt a surge of panic rising within me. I had to get out of there, fast. My heart raced, and I could feel sweat beading on my forehead. In a daze, I bolted out of the store, ignoring Julia's calls behind me.

Back in my apartment, I slammed the door shut and headed straight for my room, desperate for silence and solitude. "Berry, what the f-" My mothers voice trailed off as I slammed my bedroom door shut, shutting her out.

Ignoring her muffled protests outside, I needed to talk to someone, anyone, about what had just happened. Hot tears continued to stream down my face as I dialed Veronica's number.

"Hey, baby brother! Long time no talk, huh?" Veronica greeted me cheerfully, oblivious to the turmoil raging inside me. I struggled to find the words, overcome with emotion.

"Veronica, I'm so lost right now. I don't know what to do, and I needed someone to talk to," I finally managed to choke out, my voice trembling.

Veronica must have sensed the distress in my tone because her voice softened immediately. "Well, let's start from the beginning," she said gently.

And so, I poured out my heart to her, recounting every detail of the surreal events that had unfolded that night.

As I hung up the phone, a sense of profound realization washed over me. From now on, my life would never be the same again.

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Marshal

"I didn't know we had so many crackheads in this area," I quipped to the cashier after a random guy had an anxiety attack and bolted out of the 7/11. She shot me a stank look in response. Did I say something wrong? "2.65 dollars," she replied curtly. It seemed like she wasn't too fond of me.

Thankfully, it was finally Friday, signaling the end of a dreadful week. I was itching to celebrate, desperate to escape the confines of my house. Parked in an empty lot, I found myself in the backseat of my car, mindlessly scrolling through my old friends' Twitter accounts. Then, their latest post caught my eye: "HOUSE PARTY!!! ALL WELCOME, BRING FRIENDS 12/6/22 at 7:00PM!" It felt like fate had intervened.