Complementary

thirty three

putting the dog to sleep - the antlers

zayn

I collapse on the hotel bed, not bothering to try and unpack. The long flight has drained me and so has my family. Though I missed them, I think I had forgotten how tiring my mom and sisters can be.

"You have such a great family, Zayn." Carlie says thoughtfully, laying down beside me.

"They talked your ear off, love." I mumble, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair out of her face.

She smiles, her gaze wandering around the room. "I appreciated that. It shows they really care about you if they want to get to know me. It must be nice, having people who care."

The hint of sadness to her tone makes my heart sink, the air around us growing heavy. "I'm your family now. So are my sisters, and so is my mother. I love you."

Her light eyes meet mine again, though they are glistening with tears that have yet to fall. I can tell she is willing herself not to cry. I know she does not want to because she feels as if she is getting better, but I can tell that this hurts her. She feels like she has no one but myself, and that is both comforting and lonely.

"I want a real family, Zayn," she whispers. "I want my mother back, I want my father to love me. I want to be normal. I'm fucked up."

"No, don't say that," I tell her, pulling her into my lap and wiping away her tears. "Everyone is fucked up. You aren't alone in that sense at all."

"I am, though," Carlie says with a shaky voice. "I am alone. I may have you, but who else?"

"Johannah, Louis," I start. "You could even have your father if you tried, Carlie."

"Don't you dare say that." She snaps, turning to crawl out of my lap and face me. "You think I haven't tried when it comes to my father, don't you?"

"Carlie, I -"

"You think I just gave up and wallowed in self pity?" She asks, pointing her finger at me. "You're wrong. I tried so hard to have a close bond with him when my mother killed herself, but he shut down. He took a different woman on a date every night, wanting to rebuild his perfect image for his perfect company and coworkers. He didn't want anyone to know how broken everything was, so he didn't bother trying to fix it the right way. I did."

"I'm sorry, Carlie," I murmur. "I never knew any of that. You never told me."

She opens her mouth to speak but closes it again. It looks as if she is choosing her words wisely, though she still has yet to say anything.

"I'm sorry." I speak again.

"Me too, Zayn," she mumbles. "I'm sorry, too. I just - I get so worked up over this, you know? You are sitting here, exhausted from talking to your family for so long. I don't think you know I could have sat there with your mother and sisters and talked to them all night. You don't realize how lucky you are."

Her words strike me. She is correct; I do not realize how lucky I am.

All my life, I have focused on how hard my family has had it. Money was a struggle; I grew up in clothes from thrift shops and small meals because that was all my mother could afford. She worked two jobs to support us since my father was not around. Lately, now that I have been involved with Carlie, I started to believe that we were even less fortunate than I thought beforehand. She grew up in a polished, pristine mansion her whole life, with three course meals for dinner cooked by chefs. But she lacks something I have; a true family.

And now, it seems as though the material things do not matter at all. I know love because I have lacked what Carlie has always had. That is what makes us complementary.