Empathy

Chapter Thirteen

"Jesus," my uncle said, sitting down at the cafe with my sister and I. "That shit sounds harsh." He lifted his cappuccino to his mouth, taking a sip. Mickey's mouth opened a little at the burning sensation. I could feel the pain emanating from him. I winced in sync with him. "What's wrong with you, Vel?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Nothing, just stretched a muscle too far," I told him. I took a sip of my own hot chocolate.

The weeks had gone by in a flash, turning it into early December. I hadn't seen much of Peri since the start of junior year and Gemma's sixteenth birthday went by without a hitch, except that we all had a mourning fest with it being my sister's first birthday without our father.

Uncle Mickey had come to visit us for a few weeks. He told us before that he was on vacation from his job and he wanted to see Gemma and I to pass the time. Mom didn't let him into the house so Mickey stayed at a hotel close to our house, but that didn't change the fact that Mom didn't want her own brother anywhere near her.

My uncle thought that the best place to take us would be a cafe that he just looked up online a few days ago. It was a nice cafe. It was forest green in color on the walls, the floor was tile, the people working there were friendly enough but I think if they had it their way they wouldn't be baristas. The whole place smelled of ham and coffee grounds. A very interesting mix of scents if you ask me. It somehow worked and I didn't want to find out how.

"Isn't it awful?" Gemma asked. I gave her a look. She promptly ignored me. "It's the twenty-first century. People shouldn't treat others like that," she added. Gemma took a sip of her mocha. It really seems like all we do is eat and drink in this family. Which is odd since I don't gain a pound.

Go figure.

"People are just so stupid," Mickey added as an afterthought. I looked at him a minute, concentrating on him. My uncle found my gaze, our eyes locking. He looked away immediately, gazing down at his wrist where his watch resided. "Well, I better get you girls home. Wouldn't want your mom to kill me and dance on my grave, now, would we?" he asked, his eyes moving to rest on Gemma and I.

The three of us got up from our seats in the cafe. Mickey laid down his money to tip the barista, a generous fifteen percent. We walked out into the freezing cold of early December in the Midwest.

Thank God it wasn't snowing but it sure as hell was cold.

"Uncle Mickey," Gemma said, wrapping her scarf around her neck and chin, covering her mouth. "You didn't have to tip the barista. She barely did anything." Her voice was slightly muffled from the fabric. Mickey looked at her, something in his eye that I couldn't quite tell.

"I know, Gem, but I wondered why the hell not?" He was asking no one in particular. "I have the money to spare and I wanted to make someone's day today."

Money? His job didn't pay him a lot of money in his salary. He was a graphic artist who loved his job but earned just about nothing for it. He did side jobs to earn end's meat, but that wasn't enough.

Mickey turned away from my sister to look at me. "What's the matter with you?" he asked me, concern melting into me from him. He eyed me with his intense blue eyes that were like Mom's in every way and yet so different. I shuttered. I was never going to get used to this no matter what I do.

I shook my head. "Nothing," I replied. "Everything's fine." I gave him my most wide, fake smile in the history to get him off my back. "I'm great, just great."
"Say "great" one more time and I'll believe you," Mickey told me, smirking at me, the corners of his lips stretching upwards. I smiled at him.

"Oh, Jesus," Gemma moaned, lifting her head to the gray, gloomy sky. "We're playing that game." She turned to me. "Don't you dare respond." Gemma pointed a finger at me, letting me know that she meant business.