january fourth | neymar jr

chapter eleven

Morgan

January 9, 22

   After what had happened with Neymar earlier, I wasn't feeling very lucky. So at two o'clock when I had to go to my dad's to tell him I was moving across the country, to say I was anxious was an understatement. Sierra told me that it would be fine, and I was overthinking things, but I knew my dad. And Christian? I know he's away a lot, but it's for soccer, god my dad would send him to Mars if it meant he got to win the World Cup.

  My dad never liked that my mom was a model, he always thought that it was inappropriate. So, once they got married, she retired and stayed home most of the time. My dad wasn't exactly thrilled when I decided to follow in her footsteps. 

  With my hand on the steering wheel, I was thinking about how much my life was about to change. I did that a lot, right after I had agreed to move. 

  I parked outside of my dad's house and took a deep breath. I had thought about what I was going to say, but then came to the conclusion it would be better if I just spoke from my heart. I wish people would do that more often. 

  On my way inside, I got a text. I quickly pulled my phone out of the pocket of my jeans, but when I saw who it was from I put it back. Neymar had been texting me ever since I had told him I needed time to think. It was true, but I didn't need to think about his apology. It was completely valid. I needed time to think about New York. I kept walking towards the door.

  My dad and I did our formalities, saying hello, asking how the other was, and then Christian came downstairs jogging. "Hey," he smiled halfway down the stairs. I broke my attention from my dad and focused on him for a moment. Once he got downstairs, he embraced me in a hug which I immediately accepted.

  We all sat down in the living room after I had helped myself to some coffee. I was seated on a reclining chair, (which I didn't have reclined) and my brother and father were on the opposite side of me on the couch. I preferred to sit by myself instead of an immature soccer player and his father. 

  "Did you know that ice skating rink we used to go to when you two were children just got shut down?" My dad said, making small talk. "Seriously?" Christian said. "Darn, I was just going to take the team there this week to celebrate our nonexistent win," he joked. I glanced at him, raising my eyebrows. He noticed me doing it, and turned to look at dad who had a similar expression on his face. 

  "Come on," Christian groaned. "That was funny," he added, still in his joking tone. "No, it wasn't," both my dad and I said in unison. I still had my nerves, but I tried to make sure they weren't noticeable.

--

  Half an hour later, my dad, Chris, and I were all sat on the couch. (Despite my wishes of keeping my distance.) We were looking at old photo albums of Chris and I as kids.

  "I remember that!" He pointed at one picture. We were about five, and the picture depicted us in front of Niagara Falls. "No way, we were five!" I exclaimed in response to my brother. "Well, I do," I shrugged. The photo below it was my dad and my mom, in the same position as my brother and I, looking like bigger versions of us. "I do remember taking that," I giggled, pointing to the photo. I crossed one leg over the other and rested my hand on it.

  "Mom was so afraid that you'd let your intrusive thoughts take control and throw the camera over the fence," I laughed, looking at my brother. He gave me a weird look.