That October Night

Chapter 1

"ARE YOU OKAY?" Mum asked; entering my room as she carefully sat beside me. The coldness in New Orleans around late January made mum hug unto dad's jacket.

There was something about that question that never made me feel 'okay'.

Constantly hearing that question over the past two months didn't help either did my mother's cautiousness around me. She spoke to me as if I was dysfunctional and handled me as if I were broken glass.

Despite my irritation towards her question, I couldn't help but stare in incredulity at the large slice of key lime pie in her hand. Eating past nine was not something she practiced.

"Are you okay, mother?"

Her surprise to my question swiftly morphed into indignation, her pewter grey eyes on fire. In no time her plate was on my nightstand, and then furiously she stood up with her left hand on her waist and pointing her index finger in my face with the other.

"That's exactly the problem, Ray. I can't tell if you're okay or not. Looking at you is no different than looking at a blank piece of paper." As quickly as the fire sprung to life, it quickly dwindled down and she was whimpering, and though I was sorry that I had brought pain to my family I didn't show it.

I cannot.

Vigilantly, I watched as she buried her head in her hands. My throat started to burn, but I swallowed the urge to cry. If crying made situations better, my life would be like walking in a field of Daffodil flowers with a rainbow and the sun shining just right.

I shifted closer to her, awkwardly patting her back. "Just please stop asking me if I'm okay, mums."

"But it's my job!"

"Yes, job well done but seriously stop. I'll let you know if I feel otherwise."

She raised her hand up and I flinched, thinking she was about to slap me. Note that my mother never laid her hands on me.

It was a shame that I didn't trust anyone anymore.

In confusion she sniffed, her eyebrows furrowed as she reached over to grab her pie. "We're leaving early, so get a good night rest," Mum said.

She kissed my forehead and jolted out the room with a hand over her mouth. Her waist-length strawberry blonde hair that was high in a ponytail vigorously swung in the middle of her back.

This wasn't the first time we've had to start over. But it was the first time that I was actually looking forward to it.

On my way to drown my sorrows in the world of music, Coffee by Miguel sounded its way through my phone, washing the forbidden silence away.

When I answered the call, I was greeted by loud music that sounded a lot like Drake's song Hotline Bling. There was some shuffling and then the volume was turned down.

"Tweety, I miss you so much," Chris giggled.

"I miss you too, asshole. Were you drinking?" His heavy breathing covered his silence. He didn't have to answer me though, because I could hear him speaking loudly through his silence.

Drunk Chris spurted out the truth as if the alcohol was a truth serum running through his veins.

"Are you okay?"

"I swear to fucking God if someone asks me that one more time, I'll-"

"You'll what?" he dared me, his words faintly slurred. "Besides, I'm your favorite brother."