Kids These Days

Chapter 45: Finn

"Are you sure you're not tired?" Becca asks.

It's nearly midnight, and I'm still waiting on the sofa in the living room, staring at the TV as it plays my favorite Western, High Noon. I don't know why I bother. Even the sight of Gary Cooper kicking ass isn't enough to make me feel better right now. "No. I'm not tired."

"Well, I'm going to bed." She pauses at the bottom of the stairs. "Hey. It's gonna be okay. I'm sure everything will work out in the end."

"Is that a psychic prediction, or are you just trying to be nice?"

Becca purses her lips. "Don't stay up too late, Finn."

I turn my attention back to the TV, trying not to dwell too much on Ronan's parting words: Everybody leaves. Get over it.

Maybe he was right. Maybe I do need to get over myself.

I should probably go to sleep...

Or I could stay up until the end of the movie. And watch For Whom the Bell Tolls next.

The sound of the phone ringing upstairs makes me bolt upright. Then I hear Becca answer, "Julia? Is everything alright?", and I slump back into the recesses of the couch. Julia is her cousin. The call isn't for me.

I really need to get over myself.

My sister strolls out of the kitchen, clutching a mug and sporting an over-sized Oxford sweatshirt. (I bet it belongs to Henry. Ugh.) "Finn? What are you doing awake?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I wanted a cup of tea," Sarah says plainly. "I'm trying to finish this really innovative book about the future of bio-diesel fuel and... you're not listening. What's going on with you, Finn? You've been so distracted lately."

"What do you mean? The future of bio-diesel sounds so thrilling."

"Let me know when you lose the attitude and we can have an actual conversation," Sarah says. And then, under her breath, "God, teenagers are so annoying."

"You're twenty-one!" I shout as she climbs up the stairs. She shows off her superior maturity by giving me the finger.

I crank up the volume, knowing that Sarah will be able to hear the TV from her room, and distract myself with Gary Cooper's final shoot-out. The sound of gunfire is so loud that when the doorbell rings a minute later, I almost assume it's part of the movie. Until I hear someone knock on the front door.

I spring off the couch and hurry over to the door. It's too dark to see through the peephole, so all I can do is unlock the deadbolt and hope it's not someone who wants me dead. 

"Hi," says Ronan, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

I stare at him in disbelief. He looks like he just ran a marathon. And he's missing his suitcase. "You came back," I say, somewhat hesitantly, as if invoking his absence will cause him to vanish into thin air. A dry wind blows across the porch, swinging the door open wider between us, but Ronan doesn't try to cross the threshold. "Why?"

He shifts his weight from one beat-up Converse to the other. "Maybe I didn't want to leave."

"What about your family's company?"

"Fuck the company." Ronan spits the words out like they're poisonous, but I can tell by the twitch in his right eye how much it costs him. "I'm done dealing with their shit."

I let myself relax against the door-frame, sticking my hands in my pockets because I don't know what else to do with them. I'm not sure if I believe Ronan, and, despite the forced conviction in his voice, I'm not even sure he believes himself.