the cool side of the pillow {styles au}

two

Everyone in their life has that one person they can count on no matter what. To me, Jonah was that person. And when your rock is suddenly snatched from you without warning, it can throw you off. I had to rearrange my life after he left me and find somebody else to confide in. I had a few friends that I would hang out with on the weekends or walk with in the halls, but none I had any desire to spill my secrets to. As weird and lame as it sounds, my dad became that person. He and I were always close, but losing Jonah made me realize how much I loved and appreciated him. Ever since, we've been inseparable. When I'm not at school or working at the local record store, I'm hanging out with him. We typically just sit around, watching crime shows and talking about everything and nothing all the same.

My mom and I have never had a relationship like that. Since I was little, she was always the one harping at me to do better, be better. Every time I got a B on a test, she claimed I could have gotten an A. Whenever I failed at playing a sport or learning a new skill, she would say I clearly wasn't giving it my all. In seventh grade I finally found my talent: painting. And what did my mom have to say?! Something about painting not being a useful skill in life. I love my mother and I know she only wants the best for me, but most of the time I'm pretty sure she has no idea who I am or what I want. Thankfully, my dad does.

To the surprise of absolutely nobody - myself included - my parents' marriage didn't last. I was twelve when they finally called it quits, though I don't think they'd been happy for years. At first, my mom was rewarded primary custody of me, much to my dismay. It wasn't until I was 16 that I was finally allowed to pick who I lived with. Of course, I chose to move in with my dad. Ever since, my mom and I haven't been on the best terms. I think she took it personally that I'd rather live with my father than her. I'm still required by law to see her every other weekend since I'm not 18, but neither of us enjoy it that much. So naturally, we both find ways to get out of it. My birthday is in three months and I'm sure by that point my mom will have stopped asking for me to come over all-together.

My dad knows how hard this day is for me and so I'm not surprised to find a box full of my favorite treats on the counter when I come home. Sour Punch Straws, Cheez-its, Pretzels, and a can of Arizona Tea. A genuine smile creeps onto my face and it's a nice feeling after such a weird and stressful day. It feels good to know that someone genuinely loves you and wants you to be happy. There is a small note attached to the box which I read: Rough day? Well, go ahead and plop your rear on the couch and enjoy this box of awesomeness. Your favorite movie of all time just might be waiting for you in the DVD player, but you'll have to see for yourself. I'll be home around 6:00. See you then. Love you. - Dad.

I slide the box off the counter and practically sprint to the living room. I get cuddled up onto the couch with my treats and quickly turn on the TV. Sure enough, the title menu for Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone is displayed. Another wide grin forms on my face as I press play and begin digging into my food.

***

Just as Ron is about to win the giant game of chess, the front door opens and shuts. I've already devoured half the bag of pretzels, all of the Sour Punch Straws, and sucked down every last drop of the can of tea. I pop another cheesy cracker into my mouth as my dad tosses his keys and brief case onto the kitchen counter. I turn to see him discarding his suit jacket and kicking off his shoes, which he leaves in the middle of the kitchen floor.

"Hey, Dad," I say as he collapses into his chair in dramatic fashion.

"Hey, Sparky," he huffs.

I chuckle at the nickname I've had for as long as I can remember. The way I got the nickname is my dad's all-time favorite story to tell. It was the 4th of July and I was four, just learning how to get into mischief in any situation. Everyone was gathered around the box of fireworks, trying to decide which one to light off next. One of my older cousins had brought out the sparklers and was handing them out to the rest of the kids. I excitedly snatched one from him, running around the yard like a mad woman. Not knowing what I was doing, I began to go up to people and fling the sparks at them, not causing any real damage, but definitely stirring up a bit of panic. My dad had to wrestle it from my hand and hide an amused smile as he lectured me on the do's and don'ts of fireworks.