The Truth About That Summer

twenty-four

Taking my seat at the table, I murmur good morning to Grams and face Mom with a blank expression. I pop a plain Cheerio into my mouth, noting the slightly stale softness to it. My favorite.

"What, in particular, would you like to talk about?" I sigh finally, crossing my arms over my chest. "And why couldn't it be discussed over the phone?"

"Dylan," Grams warns, flashing me a look over the top of her glasses. My eyes narrow at her. Traitor.

"Well, darling, I'd like to think we could've talked about anything over the phone. But you don't answer yours and you don't return our calls. What else was I to do?" Mom stirs her coffee slowly, the metallic clang of spoon hitting mug breaking the peaceful morning routine Grams and I have created.

I grit my teeth together, keeping my eyes locked on Mom's. They always overreact. Always.

Eventually, her resolve crumbles and she presses her fingers to her eyes, rubbing them in slow circles as if she's exhausted.

We're all exhausted. We've all been exhausted. Grief does that to you.

"Dylan," Eyes still closed, Mom reaches one hand out and rests it awkwardly on my arm. When she blinks finally, she offers a small smile. "We're just worried. You don't check in, you don't get out much-"

"You told her?" I turn to Grams, brows furrowing with the news of her betrayal. She only shrugs, turning the page of her newspaper lazily.

"She didn't really have to." Mom shakes her head at me, something like pity in her eyes. "It's no different from when you were at home, or at school. We still don't even understand why you left."

And there it is.

"Oh, that's what this is about, isn't it? You and Dad are still not over the fact that your kid dropped out of school. How embarrassing for you," I roll my eyes, something I know Mom hates.

"Well!" Mom raises her hands up in exasperation. "It doesn't make any sense, Dylan! You were so close to graduating, it's just not like you to give up so easily."

"Not like me?" I hold back a humorless chuckle. "You wouldn't even know what I'm like anymore, Mom. I never even wanted to go to school to begin with."

"You're saying we forced you to go?" Mom slams her mug down, droplets of coffee landing all over her placemat. I see Grams jump a little before eyeing the mess carefully.

"I'm saying-"

"What? Do enlighten us, please. I'm all ears." Mom pushes.

I run a hand over my ponytail before finally exploding. "Kinda! Okay? You kind of did. You guys always wanted everything to be perfect-"

"Oh, for the love of God-"

"You did! Going to school was my only way to get away from you both, to not have to deal with..." I shake my head, trailing off in a slow exhale.

This conversation won't get me anywhere. It's not worth it.

I feel Grams eyeing me warily but can tell she's trying to not interject. Whatever this is, it's between Mom and me. And Dad, if he'd ever pay attention to anything going on around him anymore.

"Deal with what, Dylan? What was so horrible that you couldn't stand to be around your mother and father anymore?"

I hold eye contact defiantly, regardless of my trembling chin. "You really want to know?"

"Dylan..." Grams rests a hand over mine but I continue, hands shaking angrily.

"I went so that I wouldn't have to deal with this." I spit, gesturing to Mom's pitying expression. "The way you look at me, the way Dad refuses to. The way I will never be good enough... Because I'm not Casey."