What He Left Behind

Thirty One

If I felt like things were different when I was coming home from LA, they're even more different now. Mom's eyes filled with tears soon after I told her about Jacob. Dad held her and the sight of the two of them actually being there for each other was nearly enough to make me get emotional too. Then I handed them my gift, an album that Rena helped me make, similar to the one she made for Austin. It's made up of pictures of Rena and Austin's relationship, and of photos of Jacob's first year, including ones of me celebrating with them over the Christmas break. Once mom finally stopped crying, she didn't do what she usually does which is to stare blankly into space or go to sleep. Instead, she asked me questions. Dad did too. They asked me how Rena got in contact and what Jacob was like and how long Austin and Rena were together for and how they ended up in California.

It felt weird having the upper hand for once. I wouldn't describe myself as someone who likes having power, but after years of feeling completely inferior to and unvalued by my parents, just like Austin did, it was almost satisfying to have them asking all the questions, me having all the answers, and them hanging on my every word.

Despite how emotional and completely dysfunctional the situation was, it was the first time ever that I felt we were acting how a family should act. Everyone was together and everyone was participating and, can you believe it, we were having an actual conversation that wasn't a confrontation.

They took it well, the pair of them. I'm not sure they've fully processed it yet, but then again I'm not sure I have either. But they both showed interest and mom was a lot more animated than usual. Hopefully, this is a new normal for us to adjust to.

One down. One to go.

--

The next day is New Year's Eve, the day of Battle of the Bands where Charlie's band will be playing to a bigger crowd that they've ever played before, fighting to win $800 and twenty hours of studio time. I get up and ready, putting on a black hoodie with the band's name printed on the back. I am their number one fan and promotor after all. When I go downstairs, I'm surprised to see my mother and father sitting at the table together.

"Morning," I greet, "Is everything okay?"

"Perfect. I thought we could all eat breakfast together today," my dad announces, "Since we couldn't at Christmas."

I roll my eyes at my father's not so subtle dig at me, but refrain from pointing out that we probably wouldn't have eaten together on Christmas anyway. While everything is going well for a change, I don't want to sabotage it. If my parents want to make an effort then I'll happily cooperate.

Dad opens the fridge and takes out the ingredients we need for breakfast, and I figure I should help him since I don't think he's cooked anything in his life, unless you count the microwave meals and pot noodles he apparently lived off of when he was in college.

"Do you want to make the toast mom?" I ask her and she takes a minute to process what I'm saying but then agrees, getting up and taking the bread from the worktop. I understand that people with depression sometimes feel useless, so perhaps it will help if I can make her feel useful.

We eat together and I ask my parents what their plans are for the day. Dad says he's got the day off work so we could do something together, which makes me curse inwardly because trust him to pick the one day I have plans I can't back out of to suggest playing happy families.

"I actually have to do something really important this evening," I awkwardly explain, "But I can spare a few hours in the meantime."

"We can make that work," my dad agrees, "Where are you off to this evening?"