Size Zero✔

Chapter 4: Team

Chapter 4: Team

Men are just like cats. A poem I once heard at school just stated that. Now watching my brother get all bitchy and hyped up I agree with the statement. One minute he was all smiles and rainbows the next he was stressing until the ends of the earth. Who knew that needing a playlist would be vitally important when it came to winning a Spirit Cup?At the end of it I felt he pulled through. As usual all the stressing was worth it. Our house won everything. We might not have gotten major individual awards but as a house through our unity we managed to win the Athletics Trophy even without the bonus points of outfit wins.

I would run a million more three thousand meters to see the joy on my brother's face again as he lifted up the trophy. Mom managed to come in the last few moments of the day. Just as they were announcing winners.Her face was pulled into a tight smile. Mom never came to these events. If she did on the rare occasion it definitely was not in her lab coat and scrubs.

Mom drove us home that afternoon. The ride was silent, the only noise came from the air-con that was switched on. The car was parked and tears started falling down my mother's eyes. She started mumbling and freaking out.Daniel had the sense to grab her phone and call Grandpa. The phone was on speaker and all I could hear was the ringing. A good old fashioned ring of the phone.

"I'm not here right now. Make sure your message is short and to the point," Grandpa's voice filled the van.

"He's gone, dad he's gone," mom said shivering.

"Mom you're not making any sense," Claire said in a scared tiny voice. She had been with mom the longest. Since before Dan and I left school.

Mom's breathing was erratic and unsteady. No one could ever realise how much that moment affected Daniel, Claire and myself. No child ever wants to see their parent cry. Something like that shows you that no matter how strong they are for you they are only human. I guess I did the only thing I knew how to do. I hugged her. The scent of my mom's shampoo tickled my nose but I kept my arms around her. The car was starting to get stuffy. It would be a long while before mom calmed herself enough to move.

When we did it appeared that nothing had happened. Mom did not offer any information. The rest of us were clever enough not to ask. That night instead of resting tired and sore muscles, I actually did homework as I waited for grandpa to make an appearance. The smell of alcohol hit me before I saw him.

Grandpa was still in his work clothes. He was clinging onto a boy from the Academy. There had only been three times in my short life when I had seen him drunk. Truthfully all three times had scared me.

I guess today is one of those days. You know the day where you have to look after the responsible adult that usually looks after you.

I take over from the boy. Which makes grandpa angry. He starts shouting. Years training young adults has given grandpa a powerful voice. The boy starts quaking in his boots. Pussy. I am nice though and offer to let him come inside and rest. He wisely refuses. Neither does he spend a moment longer at our door.

"Don't involve strangers in family matters," I mutter. A saying that grandpa has drilled in my head from the time I could talk. I wish he took his own advice. I knew I was falling apart but I needed everyone else to show some form of stability. My family was not stable that night.

Grandpa keeps quiet enough as I walk with him. I shoulder his weight but he does most of the walking. Claire came out from the kitchen in time to see me supporting grandpa. Claire knows at this moment I won't appreciate help from anyone.

She is right. I am in one of my more foul moods. The one that spontaneously takes over from me. No one at home knows what triggers it and I do not want to analyses on why it does happen. I stumble with grandpa to his room and wait a moment. I watch him closely as he flops onto the bed in his work clothes.

"It is all my fault," he begins closing his eyes. I take a seat on the foot of the bed. Something tells me that this story is very relevant to the moment.

"Joseph was such a good little boy. He was my baby," grandpa mutters.

Joseph not a name I'm familiar with.

"Josie just had to turn out gay. I shouldn't have listened and sent him there. He couldn't take it. I forced him too. Does that make me a bad parent?"

Any other day I would have answered that question truthfully. Not today. Today he needed that lie to hold on to his sanity. That lie fell on my shoulders. During the past couple of weeks telling tall tales had become second nature.

"Grandpa, you are a great dad," I said.

He abruptly opened his eyes.

"Girl, go wash your mouth with soap and don't you ever lie to me again," the old man warned.

I walked out. So much for keeping people happy. I found myself in kitchen. I ate a whole packet of biscuits without realising it. Felt sick at myself. I tried to vomit out the food but it stayed down. I needed the food today no matter how my mind felt. Everything held a revolt against me today. I thought my family was a team. A team was never successful with a solo-star.

The de-constructed fragments of my family did not get much sleep that night. I sat up and finished homework and stretched forever. Claire sat with her sketchbook and charcoal on the hammock outside. A cup of tea next to her. Loud sounds punctuated the air. Hard plastic against carbon fiber lead whined loud sounds when struck against each other. A slow drifting notes of The Beatles and my grandpa's deep snores. My stomach rumbled again. I ignored it.

A/N: Matric Dance is tonight. So a quick update. Remember to leave any thoughts. I love you xx Dhrish