Skinny Boy ✔

Chapter 39: preparing for battle

I've always been one to run away from my problems. Sure, I do things to deal with them, find (albeit, stupid) ways to cope with them, but they always end up being avoidance disguised as solutions. I do things thinking I'm fighting a problem, but I'm actually fighting everything but the problem itself. Time and time again, I find myself running from my problems without even realizing it. 

That's why I found myself ready to run away from everything--just for a little bit. After everything what happened the evening before, I needed to get away from everyone. I needed to escape this house, these people, but most of all, I needed to escape my mind.

So that's what I did. I got up early in the morning, took my injections and supplements, chugged down a shake, and tied my shoelaces, ready to take on the road ahead of me. I was prepared for battle. 

Maybe I should explain what led me to this point. 

After what felt like hours of uneasy silence in the house, mom and dad finally came and got me for a talk. They didn't demand it in an angered sort of way, but asked me if we could talk. I repeat, after hours of expecting a lecture and raised voices and harsh words to be thrown, they asked me if we could talk. That wasn't a good sign.

Baffled, I said a simple sure, and with that, they walked into my room and softly shut the door behind them. Also a bad sign.

I gulped back the lump in my throat, now realizing what kind of talk this was going to be. Not the kind with yelling and arguing that you could forget about with a loud enough song, but the kind that broke you apart from the inside, the kind that made you feel weak and vulnerable. This was the kind I feared the most.

Because if Jamie couldn't hear it, who knows what they'll start going on about.

"I know I shouldn't have looked through your stuff," mom began.

I nodded. No kidding. And it took you how long to realize this?

"But Nate, you've got to understand," she continued. Yep, this definitely wasn't an apology. "You've been so secretive and closed off recently."

It probably wasn't helping my case much by refusing to respond to that.

"Think about it, though," dad chimed in, "when was the last time you had a conversation with one of us?"

"We're talking right now, aren't we?" I sassed.

Still, they held their calm demeanor. "You know what I mean," dad said. 

Avoiding their gaze, I ducked my head and said nothing, instead reaching for my phone. 

Gently grabbing my wrist, mom sat down on the bed beside me, dad following suit. As much as I wanted to snatch my hand away from hers and grab my phone again, her tear-stained face and sad expression compelled me to let go. "Your dad and I have been talking," she said. 

Good for you, I thought. Sometimes it's so hard biting your tongue in serious moments. 

"And we're both really worried about you," she continued. 

"Worried about me?" I raised a brow. 

"You've been exercising a lot," dad said. Before I could get angry at him, he continued, "I know you like to push yourself, I understand that, but your dedication is really starting to become...an obsession." 

"An obsession?" I squinted at him, looking for some sign he was joking, but got nothing. "Are you serious? You're the one who said not to put that gym membership to waste, or not to slack off, and now I'm suddenly obsessed?"