Shadows of Yesterday

Chapter 17: If You're Angry and You Know It... Smile Anyways

As soon as the front door closed behind me that night, the warmth of the diner was already a distant memory. The easy laughter and free smiles faded to the back of my mind as I stepped into the front entryway and slid off my shoes. My fun afternoon gave way to my nightly reality: a dark, empty house where the only things that waited for me were embroidery, videogames, and endless amounts of homework. 

Or, that would have been my reality, had I not noticed something in the dark of the kitchen that stopped me in my tracks:

Ben.

Alone at the kitchen counter.

Pissed.

I had never seen Ben angry before, not really. Exasperated? Sure. Concerned? Definitely. But angry?

Never.

Ben was always the cheerful one, the guy with the easy laugh and the kind word. He was the brother I knew I could always count on, no matter how blase about life he might appear. With the exception of a certain day none of the Petersons liked to think about, Ben was the member of my family who was the best at holding it together. 

Which only made it more perplexing to see him now--shoulders tensed, eyes fixed on his phone screen and filled with unbridled fury, and his free hand clenched so tightly around his car keys that I wouldn't be surprised if they left a mark. He was practically trembling, and I could see his chest rising and falling rapidly with the effort of controlling his temper.

"Ben?" I tentatively asked.

His head snapped up. 

He turned off his phone and shoved it into his back pocket like he was worried I could read the screen from across the house. Then, he rolled his shoulders, and in the blink of an eye, it was like I had imagined his murderous expression. His mouth curved upwards in one of his effortless smiles, and his shoulders relaxed. "Jackrabbit, welcome home! Where have you been?"

After turning off the entryway light, I narrowed my eyes and approached the counter, sitting down on a stool next to his still-standing figure without bothering to turn on the kitchen light. "Out with friends," I said slowly. "What about you, Mr. Nightcrawler?"

If I was being honest, there was a strange part of me that wanted him to ignore my attempt to lighten the mood and tell me what was wrong. It was very un-Peterson of me, but then again, what even was a Peterson anymore?

Ben laughed at the nickname, but anyone with functioning ears and eyes could tell it was fake. Unfortunately, it appeared that the one time I attempted to pry into his feelings, he wasn't in a sharing mood. "Out with Declan and his friends."

"So... playing babysitter to a bunch of grown men who should know better?"

I heard his hands clench around his keys again, but he just scoffed. Even without seeing his face, I would've bet money that he rolled his eyes and forced a smile. "Whatever. It's college--they're allowed to party if they want. And ask me for rides. And volunteer me to give their friends rides across town so they don't become a safety hazard. And puke in my backseat right before they get out of my car. It's fine. Just because I'm not one for parties doesn't mean everybody's like that."

He turned towards the garage, and I heard him take a deep, steadying breath. When he spoke again, his voice sounded cheery. Too cheery. "I'm off to pick up our very own walking liquor store. Night, Jackrabbit!"

Before I could protest, he was out the door. 

I should've gone after him. I should have pressed him for answers or let him know I was there for him if he needed me. That's what a good sister would have done--heck, it's what a good person would've done.