Paperboy. (h.s. au)

03.

When the time had come, I gathered up my brother and we headed out to my father's house. Before we could get into my truck, I saw the rogue bike rider's hat laying in the street from earlier this morning. I pick it up and put it in the car. I'll wash it and maybe keep or give to David. Why not? My mother would probably scold me, but a hat is a hat no matter how clean or how dirty.

These visits with my father have recently become a drag. He doesn't seem to particularly enjoy our company and when he does feel like talking, he asks about my future and what I plan to do with it.

I know that's a lie. He loves when we come visit. I guess I'll always be a tiny bit bitter deep down. I used to like visiting, but as I've gotten older and he's noticed, he only wants to talk about my future, which is so glowingly uncertain that it pains me to talk about. It saddens me that I've lost the excitement of going to see my father, but I guess I just came to a realization that I'm just not happy with the fact that I actually have to do this. It should be how it used to be.

If you were wondering about the answer to the question of my future, I have no idea. I've been accepted into a university, and I plan on going there, but with no idea of what I'll go into as a career of study. It's so hard to make a decision now about what to do with my life. I'm eighteen years old. How am I supposed to make that decision with such short notice and such little life experience? Both of my friends know what they are doing, and mostly everyone who graduated knows, it seems. For some reason, that decision is just too big and too difficult to make right now. I don't feel qualified to make it.

My dad will suggest I go into law like he did, then when I reject the idea he will get annoyed with me but brush it off because he wants to spend our time happily. This will result in awkward small talk until I feel we've been there for an appropriate amount of time. I could never ever put my time into years of studying law. It's too much schooling, it's too prestigious- it's not me in the slightest.

I sigh, turning the radio on and letting David pick what we listen to. It's some spunky pop song that he somehow knows every word to- including all of the guitar licks and drum beats which he makes a point to also vocalize.

"Robin," He says when the song ends, after taking a deep breath to decompress.

"Hm?"

"I think I'm going to miss you when you go to college." Well, that came out of nowhere.

"I'll miss you too, bud," I admit. He has become a good pal of mine, and it will be tough to leave him behind with my mom. How will he visit our father? How will he get to school when my mom is at work and can't take him? I can see it now, little David boarding the big school bus all by himself...

I stop myself. This is not the time to overthink. That comes later.

I'm not one for talking about my feelings, even if it's with my little brother. I guess I actually will miss picking him up from the pool, driving him around, and making him popcorn when we watch movies together. Moving into a dorm will be quite the transition from this.

I turn onto my dad's street, which is mostly trees lining the sidewalks in front of big houses. He lives in a nice neighborhood, but his neighbors aren't the best. Not that I really speak to them at all, but I do recall one afternoon last summer when I accidentally put a small tire mark in a neighbor's mowed grass. They stormed out of the house in a frenzy, shouting about how I will lose my license and I'll see you in court and you won't hear the end of this! In this case, it's nice having a lawyer for a father to set people like this straight. Although, David had to be restrained by myself from advancing on them after he heard the names I had been called.