Soulmate

Chapter 17: Rare Disaster

Again, I want to thank Mayne97 for supporting and encouraging me to post this story! Seriously go check her out! Also, check out my other super cool friend, kowjoy95. She has some amazing poems! Super jealous of both of them because I am not poetic AT ALL. Also, a big thanks to all my readers! You're all amazing!

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Alexander

    Sunday mornings were organized chaos. There was a routine we had to follow, but we were still rushing around. My mother hadn't gotten the schedule down right, but it was easier to get ready now that Cheyenne wasn't here. She always used all of the hot water and we always bickered. We were almost late every Sunday and I blamed my sister even though I usually slept in.

    Mom didn't have to get me up; she expected me to get myself up on Sundays, so she could make breakfast and get herself ready. It was the only day that she did things for herself. I crawled out of bed, grabbed my clothes, and hit the shower in the basement while my dad used the one upstairs. We were quick because we both knew the other was taking a shower, and the hot water would quickly be gone.

    After I was all dressed in my slacks and a blue button up, I went up the stairs, holding my socks and dress shoes. Dressing up wasn't all too bad; I just didn't like having to put the effort into it. Breakfast of pancakes and eggs were sitting on the table, but my mother wasn't in the kitchen. Dad came in as I was sitting down; he was tying his tie as he walked, barely paying attention to his surroundings.

    He sat down across from me as I hurriedly slipped on my shoes and socks, so he wouldn't say anything about me being slow. I went to grab my fork just as he did, sometimes were are scarily alike. It was like looking into my future and I was scared to death. How could anyone love a man like this? Would my soulmate love me if she knew this was my future?

    "Where were you last night?" he asked as he stabbed at his scrambled eggs. I knew that he didn't like eggs, he never had, but my mom always made them for him anyways because according to her, they're good for us. Sometimes he was okay with it, but sometimes he'd complain, or, when Cheyenne lived here, he'd put them on her plate and she'd happily drown them in ketchup before she ate them.

    I shoveled the eggs into my mouth, so I could avoid answering him even though there wasn't much of a point because either way I had to answer. He'd make sure of that. "I stayed over at Patrick's," I grumbled, making sure I had swallowed all of my food before I answered. He had gotten worse with age and we didn't get along like we used to.

    He nodded his head and took a bite of his pancake that was probably soggy from my mom's homemade syrup, which was my favorite part of breakfast. "Are they still living together and not married?" he questioned and I knew the lecture that was going to come.

    I looked up at him as I cut a piece of my pancake and swiped it around in the syrup. Instead of answering, I nodded my head and avoided his gaze because I knew what he would say next. After what happened to my mom, he'd become colder and more factual.

    He grunted before taking another bite, and all I could think was: here it comes. "I hope you're being smart about this soulmate situation. Whoever she is, I don't want you to treat her the way Patrick treats his. If you do, I'll beat you with an inch of your life," he grumbled and he probably would've continued talking even if I had left the table. Actually no, he would've told me to get my ass back in my seat and listen to him complain.