❝Le temps c'est de l'argent.❞

24 || argent means money in french

time || midday

"He went back to Maryland?" I say quietly.

The thought hasn't settled in. He couldn't have went back to Maryland. He didn't say goodbye to me, he didn't say anything. Not that it was his fault, it was my fault that he got arrested.

So that makes all of this my fault.

"Yeah, grandpa Andy isn't doing so well," Fern says, his voice faltering a bit.

I wonder why he isn't up there with Brolin.

I ask him.

"I'm technically estranged from the family," he tells me as he's arranging the prizes behind the counter glass display. "My Mom is the black sheep. I know it shouldn't be an excuse for me not to go see him, but it's not as if they'd let me in anyway. They've done it when my uncle Gene had been in the hospital. What makes me think they won't do it again."

I don't say anything. I understand his dilemma. It'd probably be that way for Dad and I if we ever thought to do the same for one of his relatives.

I guess every family has their problems.

Sitting at the counter on a stool I lay my head down.

After a few minutes Fern opens his mouth.

"He wanted to find you," he starts to explain but I get up from the stool. I'm already disappointed enough that I missed him, no need in trying to explain further.

"I'm gonna go," I say.

Fern doesn't say anything. He just frowns and nods. "I understand. But hey,"

I wait.

"Here's his number."

:: :: ::

I choose to walk home. I have no money as Brolin and I had spent the rest of my $40 on BS and had relied heavily on his emergency credit card. Besides my house isn't too far.

My phone is dead, so calling for an uber wouldn't have been an option. And my parents would be blowing up my cell phone with their missed calls and concerned messages asking me where I am.

During my walk home I think about me and Brolin. I think about how maybe it was for the best that I hadn't said my adieus to him as it would've been too hard to see him go. It's already enough, that I have to face school tomorrow. I'm going to be alone, and everything after yesterday will be nothing but a dream.

It felt like a dream—surreal and whimsical. Having my "first" GREAT kiss and roaming around the city with the most charming guy ever by my side. Many girls wish for that, and I'd gotten it but there was only so much time before it'd be taken away from me. And that it was.

I probably wasn't going to see Brolin ever again.

Who am I kidding. I was never going to see him again.

:: :: ::

I see both Mom and Dad's cars in the driveway.

I'm too exhausted emotionally and physically to feel like dealing with them. I hope they don't mind me walking past them up the stairs while I go to bed. Oh who cares if they'll mind.

I'm through.

I then open the door and walk in.

1... 2... 3—

I wasn't expecting to see Dad and Mom kissing when I entered.

"What the hell is this?" I say, my face contorted in disgust. They stop kissing and give me a startled look.

I hope this isn't one of these things adults do after they've been estranged from one another for so long they think jumping into an affair is the right thing to do.

I don't even try to hear their reasoning. Like the thing I said I was going to do before I entered the house. I walk pass my parents and quickly run up the stairs to my room—wanting to get away from these two people I call my parents.

Entering my room, I lock my door, and as I turn around, I lean against it. I begin to breathe heavily. Everything's changing, isn't it? The day I'm having today is a definite 180 from yesterday, I have no friends, my parents were basically in the first stages of making me a sibling, and I've had it up to here.

Out of impulse, I throw my phone at the wall and I push all the stuff off my dresser onto the floor. I can't do this, I can't. I want to cry but I'm too angry to cry. I'm too confused to cry. I'm too anything to cry.

My head's hurting, I feel the blood boiling within me as if I'm a pot of broth cooking on a stove. I think I've broken my phone, and I don't feel like putting all the stuff I'd pushed off back onto the dresser.

I more exhausted than I was when I'd first entered the house.

Anger can do that, I guess.

I go over and sit on my bed. And I take a long glance at my bedroom ceiling before falling back and settling into a deep and dreamless slumber.

:: :: ::

"Karen?"

"Karen, wake up."

My eyes flutter open and both my parents worried faces come into view.

The sight of their faces bring memories of everything that had before I'd fallen asleep.

I think I'm going to throw up.

"Leave," I mumble, putting my head back into my pillow.

I don't want to look at them or even talk to them. They've disgusted me enough, already. It's not the fact that I'd walked in on them kissing (though that didn't help), but it's the fact that they've been estranged for so long that they really think kissing and "making up" is going to make everything okay.

Mom left.

Dad's forgotten that quick.

Now I don't know who I'm more mad at. Dad or Mom?

"Karen, sweetie please wake up," Mom probes, laying (what I think) is a "comforting" hand on my back.

I push it away.

"Go away," I say again.

"Karen we need to talk," Dad says sternly. I don't budge, as if him using that voice on me is going to force me to oblige. If I weren't annoyed, I would've laughed.

"I know you're mad—"

I sit up. "Mad. No. Angry. Yes!"

"Don't raise your voice at us," Dad points his finger at me.

I glare at the both of them. "I can't believe you, Dad."

I shake my head. "She left us and your going to fall back right inside her trap. Oh it looks like I have better self-control than you, Dad. Which means I definitely didn't get it from you."

I wait for the both of them to start yelling at me. I know what I just said won't go by without the consequences considering it was harsh and disrespectful. But to my vexation they both don't say anything. They just give each other tired looks and kind of hang there heads.

"Dad you don't care you never did. And Mom just go back to wherever you came from."

Nothing.

I get up from my bed, and about to open the door. I'm instantly pulled away and thrown on the bed and fingers begin to tickle my body sending me into fits of laughter.

"You think tickling will make me NOT mad at you? You're crazy!"

:: :: ::

:: :: ::

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