Torn Asunder

Chapter 2 Valentine

Mom was crying heavily into a lacy hankerchief. I mean the gross kind of weeping where snot bubbles and spittle strings between your upper lip and the kleenex for a bit kind. She'd gone all red in the face and wailed, not wanting to let go of her darling baby boy. Dad by contrast was pale and quiet, letting mom have the hysterics this time around. For some reason our parents viewed Dante choosing to go away for the summer as a horrible thing, that it should be preferable to live at home with mom and dad instead of going to bloody Europe! In reality my twin brother was just as eager to get away from our controlling and over protective parents as I was.

Of course Dante was laughing his ass off at mom and dad's theatricals, to him it was a source of entertainment whereas for me it was a source of dread. He wouldn't have to deal with these people alone like I would. I could pretty much lay money on the fact that I was somehow going to be blamed for Dante choosing to go gallavanting about. Lo and behold I was right. Dante's plane had taken off on time, his friends' families waving a forlorn goodbye next to us as the boys and girl went off to adventure. Maybe thirty seconds after Dante walked out of sight, I suddenly felt a horrible premonition that I should have gone with him and that without me, he was doomed. It overwhelmed me for a moment but I managed to swallow the lump in my throat down and shove it aside. Although Dante and I had spent the school year apart, we spent hours of the day texting and e-mailing each other; this would the longest we have ever gone without contact. Four months of not knowing if he needed me, if he was in trouble. This sense of doom was just me being anxious about the separation from my twin. I stayed quiet, letting mom slobber and dad be stoic, I was just an automaton that moved until I had to stop.

Right after Dante left wasn't so bad, just silent and tense. Dinner had been cooked in solitary silence and served without a whisper. We were just chowing down on some chicken pot pie when mom started in. SOB: "This is his favourite. We should have served it last night." she wailed. Oh Lord here it comes. "It's your fault he wanted to get away." she accused, pointing an arthritis gnarled finger at me. "You went and changed from his sweet sister to this....this hooligan!" she sounded devastated.

Somehow I dug down deep and held onto my temper. I'm easily provoked sometimes, but I managed not to snap at my insipid mother. Under the table I sent a quick text to Luka. Come get me please. I included my address here and sent it off. It was just over four hours one way on a bike, and that was assuming he could just drop everything and come get me. But even if he was eyeball deep in shit and snakes, Luka would find a way to get me back where I belonged. I just hoped I wouldn't be pulling him away from one of his rare dates with whatever boyfriend he had now.

No sooner had I sent the text, than dear old dad decided to side with mom. Surprise. "Now, I don't think you're a hooligan sweety. But I do think you were acting out to gain our attention. Well you have it." he explained condescendingly. "What is it we can do to show you how much we love you?" he asked, and it was obvious to see where Dante got his charm from.

"Did you guys ever think that when you sent us out to expand our horizons that we may encounter ideas you don't like?" I asked, recalling numerous debates in class over ethics. "You look at the tattoo and think I'm a punk who's wasting her life." I raised my hand to stop their objections. "Well, my response to that it simple. People I love and care about gave that to me as a gift. To them I am Pirate. It's a silly nic name, yes, but it's also more than that. These people have opened their arms to me and accepted me as I am, a kindred spirit. Whereas my own mother and father can't be proud of my accomplishments and keep trying to change me into something else. Knowing how much trouble I had developing friendships as a child, I would think you'd be happy for me. Or are you too concerned about your control over me to share in my joy and celebrate with me?" my words seemed to stun my parents into silence. It hurt that they cared more about what the neighbors would think than about my happiness but that was par for the course in this house. I knew it wasn't that they weren't happy for me, but it felt like they only wanted me making friends they approved of.