Chapter 3

Toward evening, Mom, Dad, Beth, and Monty all came home.

Beth sank onto the couch, worn out, and let out a long breath. "Where were you all day? Monty just got into it with them, and Mom, Dad, and I had to fight our corner for three hours straight before we finally won. I'm exhausted."

I asked calmly, "What was the fight about?"

"They said the mole on Monty's face was bad luck and wanted us to bring him in to get it removed. Mom, Dad, and I were so mad we argued with them."

I smiled, something sharp and knowing flickering behind my eyes.

"Beth, do you remember, back in first grade, when I was staying at Grandma's and our cousin pinned my head down with his foot and forced me to eat chicken feed off the ground?"

Beth blinked, caught off guard. "Did that actually happen?"

I gave a bitter smile. "Afterward, I went to you crying about it, and you told me we were all family, that there was no point making a scene, that I should just let it go."

Beth frowned, clearly annoyed. "That was so many years ago. Why bring it up now?"

She got up and went back to her room.

Mom, Dad, and Monty each went back to their own rooms too. On his way out, Dad still found time to remind me of something.

"Monty's in a bad mood. Get up an hour early tomorrow and make him the beef hand pies he likes. Cheer him up a little."

"I have things to do tomorrow. I need to pack..."

I tried to say no, and Dad's patience snapped instantly. "Lawrence, you're the older brother. Can't you show a little consideration for him?

"How long does it even take to make some hand pies? Do that first, then go do your own thing."

The moment he finished, he slammed the door shut.

I stood there, feeling the thin stream of cool air seeping out through the crack under the door, and couldn't stop a shiver.

I walked back to my own room and zipped up the backpack already full of my things.

The next morning, I still got up and made the beef hand pies, then knocked on everyone's door.

Monty was still lounging in bed, refusing to get up.

Beth thought the living room was too hot and carried her plate into her bedroom to eat.

Mom and Dad were busy comparing air conditioner models on their phones, planning to have someone come install one that afternoon.

Dad seemed to remember something and smiled at me. "Once the living room's got its AC, I'll set up a little cot for you in front of the couch, so you can cool off too when you sleep."

I asked, "Why can't I get a unit in my own room?"

"You're forgetting, the wiring's too old. It can't handle that many appliances."

I didn't say anything else. I just nodded.

After breakfast, I shouldered my packed backpack, ready to leave.

Passing through the living room, I saw Mom and Dad still eating.

Seeing me with the backpack, Dad finally asked, "Where are you off to?"

"Something I need to take care of at Merrill Road," I said, then added, almost as an afterthought, "If either of you has time, could you give me a ride?"

Mom didn't even think about it. "I've got work at eight. I don't have time."

Dad shook his head too. "Don't look at me. I promised Monty I'd take him shopping later and get him the latest smartphone, laptop, tablet, smartwatch, and wireless earbuds he's been wanting. If he wakes up and I'm not there, he'll pitch a fit."

I nodded, calm. "Fine. I'll go myself."

I switched my shoes at the entryway and headed down the stairs.

I passed the alley by the front door. My neighbor Kathryn Effron was there, fanning herself. She called out to me, "Lawrence, where are you headed?"

I smiled faintly. "Off to work."

She laughed. "Time really flies. I used to watch you, this little thing, trailing after your sister and brother. And now, just like that, you've got a job."

"Flies? Feels like every single day has crawled by, if you ask me," I said, my lips curving into a thin smile.

Through Battisata's blistering summers, in that cramped little room, in a house where I never once felt like family, every second had been pure endurance.

"You're still young, of course it feels slow to you. Wait till you're my age, you'll see.

"Oh, by the way, how was your trip up north last time? How come you weren't in the photos your parents posted?"

I paused a while, thrown. "What photos?"

Kathryn pulled out her phone and opened Dad's social media page.

The pinned post at the top was from a month ago: photos from a family trip up north Mom and Dad had taken everyone on.

[A family that plays together stays happy!] the caption read.

The photo showed Mom, Dad, Beth, and Monty's family of four, all smiling, all radiant.

I searched my memory for that date. I remembered being buried in my thesis defense around that time.

Mom and Dad had specifically asked when I'd be free to come home, and said they wanted to take a trip.

I'd assumed they were waiting for a time that worked for me, so the whole family could go together.

Turns out, they'd deliberately picked a time when I couldn't make it.

I opened my dad's page from my own account and found nothing. Just blank.

My fingers trembled slightly. I looked up and smiled at Kathryn. "I'm not big on photos. I should get going; it's almost time. Talk next time."

With that, I turned and walked out of the place I'd lived in for twenty-two years, backpack on my shoulder.

I hailed a cab to the airport, went through security, checked in, and boarded.

The plane rose slowly, cutting through the blue sky and white clouds.

I leaned back against the seat and calmly closed my eyes.

That family had never had a place for me.

And now, I didn't need them either.