austin

vi.

dear austin,

a lot of people, while they pretend to miss you so horribly, forgot to even mention that you've been gone for eight days, the same way people forget that today is pearl harbor day. it's also sara bareilles's birthday. she's my favorite singer. 

i googled it earlier and i don't really care about any other celebrities who were born today. 

the reason i didn't write on tuesday was because i was stuck at my dad's house. i think this is a pretty interesting story and you should probably hear the whole thing. you're the only one i'm telling because i know you can't tell anyone else.

mom dropped me off at dad's house and i walked up to his door without an umbrella. it was raining really hard and i just realized that i'd forgotten this notebook at home, on the seventh day you'd been gone. so i was already cranky. 

then the door was locked. so i knocked on it really, really, really hard, without stopping until i saw stephanie walk up to it with this look on her face, like i was a walking statue covered in mold that just came to her door, and she was stuck with me. i considered turning around but mom's car was already gone. all i could think was, thanks for abandoning me, and then stephanie opened the door. the look on her face stayed there. 

"are you here for the night?" was the first thing she said. she didn't even invite me inside. so i invited myself without answering her and i dropped my soaking wet coat on her stupid rug made of some kind of fancy imported fabric that she thought was the jesus of her fucking living room floor. 

she cleared her throat and asked the question again, but i still didn't answer, and i dropped my soaking wet bag on the rug this time, kicking off my muddy shoes so they landed right on the last clean corner of the rug. 

"that rug was very expensive, young lady, and you still haven't answered me." 

i didn't really care. who was she to call me young lady? i really, really do not like my stepmother. 

then dad came out of the kitchen. "cass, is there a problem?" 

i didn't answer him. i grabbed my bag and headed towards the staircase. 

dad followed me and grabbed my fucking arm. that stupid, stupid dick. 

"you're not going anywhere until you answer us," he said, in this weird, dark tone. 

i turned around.

"yes, i'm here for the night, even though i don't want to be, but mom has a date, so i can't stay home tonight. i'm not sorry about the rug. i've answered you and i'm going upstairs now. do not bring me dinner." 

at that moment i couldn't remember if my tiny room in their house had a lock on the door, but even if it did, i was going to put something heavy in front of it. 

i heard stephanie and dad going up the stairs behind me, but i didn't want to talk to either of them. 

"young lady," stephanie said again. and i really hated it this time. 

"stop calling me young lady. you're not my mom and you never, ever will be. i don't have to listen to you and if that means i can't come here anymore, that's perfectly fine by me. ideal, in fact." 

"what is with your attitude?" stephanie asked me. 

i wanted to turn around and slap her in that stupid face, but i decided to turn around, because while i didn't want to be there, i couldn't go home with my mom, either, which left me nowhere. unless i went to kylie's house, which i don't think they'd let me since it was a school night. 

i went into my room and slammed the door as hard as i possibly could, and locked it, thank god. and then stephanie knocked on my door the exact same way i knocked when i was outside. 

"i'm not opening the door," i screamed. 

"i have a key, you little bitch." 

then there was silence, except one gasp, and i don't know whose it was. it wasn't mine because i was so mad i didn't care that she called me that. 

i pulled the curtains together on my window and shoved the dresser against the door, grabbing the tv remote and turning on the tv. 

full house was on. 

then i shoved my face into my pillow and i cried for a long, long, long time. 

then dad knocked on my door three times. 

i pulled the dresser back and opened the door after i unlocked it. 

"i'm sorry stephanie called you that name." 

i rolled my eyes. i believed him, but i didn't want him to think i'd forgiven him yet. 

"cass, you have to learn to be nice to her. do you know how much it hurts a stepmother when you compare them to your actual mother? it makes them feel like a bad mother, and it makes them feel like a bad wife. that's awful. and the fact that you did that to stephanie kills me because i love her so much. i can't let you do that to her." 

i couldn't believe he really told me that. 

"how can you say that? how can you tell me you love her more than you love me? mom's not as nice anymore, so i feel really unnappreciated at home, and then i come here, and you don't even like me." 

"that's not true, cass." 

"she doesn't like me and i know it for a fact. and i don't care if she decides to change her mind. i'm not going to forgive her. she stole you from us and before we were a really good family. and i hate her. and i don't care if she hears me." 

then i yelled it. "i hate stephanie and i don't want to come here anymore. i don't care if i have to stay in my bedroom or in the basement all night while mom's on a date. my room has a tv and the basement does too. i'm not coming here anymore after tonight and you can thank the woman that you love more than life itself." 

"cass, you can't do that." 

"there has to be a way. i can't come here anymore. i hate it. i hate living here." 

then, the weight of everything i'd said started coming down on me, and the weight of you never ever ever coming back started coming down on me, and i couldn't breathe because of how hard i was crying. 

dad didn't really seem to notice.

"you have to keep coming here until you turn 18." 

i wanted to say something, but i really couldn't breathe. everything just hurt so much. and it hurts right now. 

stephanie then came up the stairs with her car keys and an umbrella. "you're going home, cass." 

"stephanie ~" dad started, but he took one look at her and then stopped talking. 

so i dragged myself off of my bed slowly and grabbed my bag, walking downstairs as slow as i could, and then i had to sit in her stupid electric car for the twenty-minute drive home, without saying a word. 

and she, being the adult, didn't apologize, and didn't offer me the umbrella. i really hate her. 

then i went into my mom's house and went to my room and closed the door. i was still moving super slow. 

i think mom came home that night but i can't remember. she's in the house now.

now i'm here, in my room, and mom promised we could watch a movie in an hour. my mom can be the best sometimes and i just really wish i could live with her always. 

as i'm remembering all of this, it feels the same way it did last night, and it hurts really really bad. in the middle of my chest. it feels like someone's punching me and stabbing me with the handle of a wooden spoon in the chest. 

i'm not crying and that makes it hurt so much worse. 

i guess when your dad died you felt this way. i don't know much about your home life but i really hope you've never had to deal with someone like stephanie or my dad, because if you've ever felt like i did last night or like i do right now, i don't know. i just hope you were always okay. 

love,

cass