Magnolia in May [H.S]

Part fifty-seven.

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"You lie, you'll never really change."
"You should turn back now,"

"You're only crying just because."
"There's no return now."
"And all this lying has to stop."

Harry

-- -

Late last night...

"You realize what this means?" His deep irenic voice spoke up, molding evenly through the grainy landline speaker. My eyes zoned out on the familiarity of the glowing sign. Tracing the neon red numbers, with the aroma of cigarette smoke lingering placidly in the background. I gulped down the stone in my throat, inhaling the chilly air deeply through my lips as a way to soothe.

Clementine's never failed to look otherworldly on late-night shifts.

My dad wasn't the most sugar-coated individual, but his bluntness is what I treasured about him.

I'd been thinking his preposition over and over, calculating the trials and tribulations that came along if I agreed. It was a lot to take in, considering where I am at now— and was years ago. But keeping the pros and cons in mind I concluded. I was going to do this, possibly throwing the rest of my life away- yes.

I gain my wits, squeezing them into my palm.

"Yeah, I know what it means Finch, a 'welcome to the Darkside is warranted'." He sighs at my joke, clearly unamused at my blatant sarcasm. Though it seemed I had gotten my humor from him- it wasn't as funny as it was to me. He didn't know me well enough to see the fact I made jokes when I was uncomfortable, that was obvious. 

"This is serious son, once you associate fully with us... there's no going back. I'm way older than you, pushed myself into the same position when I was about- hell, your age." 

He was right, way back when I dabbled into it, and even then it was hard to get out. But now, I just knew it would be nearly impossible if I decided one day this wasn't for me. As much as I didn't enjoy it, I was made for this, and it seemed since my life was already destined to go downhill— it was candid. I had no incandescent talent like Meg or riches— so might as well throw my life fully down the drain.

I chuckle wryly amongst myself and the consuming fog, wandering my eyes around the back of the parking lot. Pulling my beanie down so it covers my ears from the cold, the frigidness huffing from my mouth in vapor.

"'Bout time then, I was bound to end up like you one way or another, I'd rather be leather-wearing lowlife than a tobacco-addicted burnout surrogate that abandoned her kid." The bitterness of my tongue sharpened as I brought up my mum. And it stung coming out, but the jokes were better than being genuine. He understood the situation with my mum, how— quote 'flighty' she was. 

"M'sorry for Vivian, Harry. She just- I don't even know at this point." I dare to chuckle at his words, shaking my head outerly. This was honestly so fucking hilarious to me, like come on. The Vivian Styles, he knew exactly why she was the way she was. Even with her clearly seen problems she was the most selfish person on this earth.

My mind buts into the conversation, the part I wanted to keep out and away. It invades my speech taking over with hurt. "—Never wanted me- I know."

I can physically hear him gulp at my words, clicking his tongue to distract from the embarrassment of my self-deprecation. As much as my humor was comforting to me I'd forget to understand it made others unnerved. I was fine with it, bringing up my mother whether it was serious or not, never failed to add an abyss-like pit to my intestines.