When We Met

Sixteen

|Martin|

Fake family meetings are the worst. Take my word for it and let it be; Particularly when that family includes your biological mother and your step father.

Deborah and I had silently agreed that we would have nothing to do with those two individuals. And family meetings were included.

But you can do nothing when some unwanted guests ring your doorbell and greet you like their long lost family.

This is exactly what happened when I was busy cherishing my weekend off. There was no bar to tend to and I was really very ecstatic to just slump over my bed and snore like a bear.

That's when I was disturbed by a frantic knock on the door of my bedroom. And trust me, Deborah's frantic knocks are identical to volcanic eruptions.

As I opened the door, her face had spoken a lot more than I had been expecting.

"It's mom and him." She'd said, pointing towards the door.

So, here I am, gaping at the two of them and trying not to shout or make a scene out of this.

Since we have no choice of shutting the door on their faces, we step back and let them come inside. Deborah keeps a close watch on me and I glare at her for acting like a dumb old grandma.

Once they are seated in the tiny living room our apartment offers, I drag Deborah inside the kitchen and give her a questioning look.

"What the fuck are they doing here? Did you invite them or something?" I whisper yell.

"Why on earth would I invite them? Is it your birthday? Or my funeral?" She rolls her eyes and empties a bottle of ice cold water in two glasses.

"I don't know, Deb. But I don't want to go through those copious scenes of drama on a holiday. I have better things to do."

"Oh yeah? And what are they?"

"Well, sleeping counts." I reason and Deb scowls at me.

"Shut up and follow me. We can't just leave them alone out there."

"Why not? They came here at their own accord. No one wants them here. Let them suffer."

"Lan, what is wrong with you? Stop being so arrogant. By the end of the day, they are our parents. We have to show some respect."

"Uh, no. He is not my father. And she definitely has torn off the tag of our mother. I don't recognise her anymore."

You must be thinking why I'm behaving like this all of a sudden. Don't get me wrong. I'm not one of those jocks who enjoy disrespecting people. No. To understand this reaction, you have to know a little about the back story.

"Dylan. Just come outside, sit without saying anything and everything will be fine. Trust me." Deb places a hand on my arm. "I know you're not a big fan of those people, but you have to do it for me. We're in this together."

My eyes soften at her words and I reluctantly nod in agreement. I can do this for my sister.

We walk out of the kitchen and settle ourselves in front of our apparent parents.

Deb serves the water and sits down beside me. I mentally thank her for doing that.

"How have you both been?" Mother asks. I resist the urge to roll my eyes at her stupid question.

"We've been fine, thanks mom." Deb answers. How does she do that?

"And what about you, Dylan? How are you doing?" Mike, the step father asks. I clench my fists and swallow hard, trying to not come out too strong with anger.