To Long and Belong

Chapter 6

It was like time had frozen in the White kitchen. Nobody moved; nobody spoke. Nobody even thought, for a brief few moments. It was probably from the shock, but no one was in the right state of mind to guess that in this very moment. Then, at last, Kylie spoke. "Why are these here?" she growled, putting emphasis on every word. "Why is my son on narcotics?" she screamed at last. Seth and Lana flinched; Willy didn't bat an eyelash. He didn't value his mother's opinion anymore. In fact, he felt insulted that she'd called him her son.

"Because his mother has become a bitch ever since his father died!" Willy screamed back, standing upright. Seth put a hand on his brother's shoulder as if to soothe him. Willy didn't brush it off—Seth's touch was comforting to everyone, at every time. "Willy," Seth said softly. He didn't know what anyone was capable of, not anymore.

"I have not! Everybody deals with grief differently!"

"Yes, you have, Mum!" Seth said bravely, rising from his stool. "Ever since Dad died, you've treated us like strangers. You insult me every day, your own daughter can't confide anything in you and you even get physical with Willy sometimes! Dad wouldn't want to know you if you started acting out like this as part of some grief process for him."

Kylie inhaled deeply, furious at her son. "I thought we were making progress," she said sulkily. She lit a cigarette in a very unladylike fashion, and Seth frowned. "We do, but then you go and ruin it," he said casually. He was tempted to just take one of Kylie's cigarettes, but he didn't smoke, and he didn't want to start an addiction. He didn't need any more on his plate.

"Willy, you're grounded." Kylie shoved butted her cigarette under her feet, raking a hand through her dishevelled brown hair.

"You can't do that!" Willy protested, his face giving off an expression of horror. He was livid inside, but he wanted to pay Seth the same respect Seth always paid him—remain calm, even when furious or upset. But his mother, as usual, was making this hard. She made everything hard.

"I'm your mother, so I can. And if you so much as make one more indiscretion, you're out of this house. Take your homework in late one more time, and you're out. If I find anything like this," Kylie said disgustedly, holding up the bag of narcotics, "in your room again, you're out. Watch yourself. You better be nothing short of the perfect son, Willy. Because you've been the worst possible son ever these past few weeks."

"That's not fair," Seth interrupted. He put an arm around Willy. "He's 14, Mum. Give him a break. You and Dad never did this to me when I was his age, and God knows I committed more indiscretions than most twenty year olds have." Willy laughed despite himself, hugging Seth. "Thanks," he mouthed to him, grateful for Seth's interjection.

"Seth, you were the perfect child at one point. All you wanted to do was just play football and kiss Alyssia all the time and whatever else," Kylie said, taking a drag from her new cigarette and flicking her hand.

Seth blushed at the mention of kissing Alyssia. "Oooh," he heard Lana and Willy say. There was a series of "ooohs" and "ahs", and Seth laughed. "Stop it, guys. We're not 10." For the first time in a while, thinking of Alyssia hadn't caused him pain. Then he thought of Charlotte—and what their date would be like. He smiled.

Lana giggled. "Thinking about kissing, Seth?"

"Yes. As a matter of fact, I am."

Willy began to laugh, while Lana fell onto the sofa holding her stomach. Muffling her laughs with a pillow, it was clear what she was doing. Laughing.

Seth ran to the couch and tickled her in her most ticklish spots. When she wasn't laughing uncontrollably, she was hitting out at her brother's hands.

Kylie looked at her children, unable to recall a time like this within the past two months. Maybe they were right. Maybe she was a loser mother, and she'd become a bitch since her husband had died. He'd held the family together more than she had realised. It was like taking pieces out of a jigsaw—you couldn't put it completely back together, because a piece was missing. And he'd been that pivotal piece they'd all depended on.

Seth had been passionate about football, and his girlfriend, Alyssia. Willy had loved Origami, and Lana—well, she'd loved dancing. She was still an aspiring dancer in some ways.

Kylie supressed a sigh, nostalgia taking over her. She missed the days when her children were still passionate, when her husband was still alive. But they weren't and he wasn't.

"Hey, can I take the car?" Seth asked.

"Where?"

"To drop off a library book."

"Okay. But be quick," Kylie warned, tossing him the car keys.

"Thanks, Mum." Seth headed out through the front door, Poppy crying pitifully.

"I'll be back, Pop," he said, planting a quick kiss on Poppy's furry black head.

The library was a far drive, considering there weren't too many in the country. Seth liked to call it a "suburban library", because it sure wasn't a country library. As he parked outside, Seth tucked the book under his arm protectively. It was three weeks late, he remembered with a shudder. Maybe he could sweet talk the librarian into letting it go just this once.

"Hello," Seth said sweetly, dumping the book on the counter. The librarian smiled at him—if Seth weren't so naïve at times, he'd probably have realised it was an inappropriate look.

"Hi darling." The librarian was an attractive woman in her mid-thirties, with long blonde hair and eyes the colour of honey. She sometimes wore spectacles, which Seth thought was "pretty sexy".

"What'll the fee be?" Seth asked, reaching into his pocket to pull out his wallet. The librarian looked at him adoringly.

"For you? Nothing. I'll let it slide this time," she said slyly, sliding the book back to Seth. "Keep it, honey."

"Uh...thankyou," Seth stammered, unsure of what to say.

He put his wallet away. "I better get going, Miss."

The librarian studied Seth's back as he walked away. He was a good-looking young boy, and she'd have had him if she was in high school. Maybe she'd still have him now, whether she was nineteen years older than him or not.