Heroism (h.s.)

24.

Anger immediately courses through my veins, quickly replacing the immense grief I’ve been harboring for three weeks now.  I practically see red, hands and limbs tensing in reaction to the sudden appearance of the people who mean the least to me in the entire world.

Harry quickly picks up on my sudden mood change but doesn’t really know what to do and I don’t blame him.  He has no idea the kind of poor relationship I have with my parents.  Though, he’s about to find out.

I storm forward, practically dragging Harry along behind me.  The wagon begins to make an obnoxiously loud noise at our sudden change in pace and my parents turn to see what all the commotion is about.

My mom doesn’t look tired; neither does my dad, for that matter.  Her blonde, frizzy hair falls around her shoulders and tousles in the wind around her face.  My dad grips her, his cropped grey hair looking different than I remember.  He smiles at me but I know it isn’t genuine.  I’ve said some horrible things to him that he definitely deserved but I’m sure he thinks I’m a complete brat nonetheless.

Mom blinks a few times, her blue eyes filled with manufactured tears that I’ve learned don’t really mean anything.  She tries to give me a warm greeting but I cut her off.  I don’t care to deal with their pleasantries.

“Wow.  This is a surprise.”

My parents exchange a glance, their mouths opening and closing as they try to figure out how to respond.

I shake my head, my frustration at their utter incompetence nearly bringing me to tears.  “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say so you might as well keep both of your mouths shut.”

They both look stunned and I can practically feel Harry’s eyes burning into the side of my face.  I decide I better fill him in.  “Harry, meet my good-for-nothing parents,” I muster, filling as much venom as I can into my tone.

I can see the proverbial light bulb go off in his head and the realization dawns on his face.  Before I can stop him, he lets go of my palm and extends an arm forward, waiting to shake both of their hands.  My mother and father eye him warily.

Harry always has to be so fucking polite.

He awkwardly retreats, his hand fidgeting as it falls back to his side.  His grip eventually finds mine again and my breathing returns to normal.

“Is he your boyfriend?” my father blurts without thinking and I can tell he immediately regrets it.  His brown eyes go wide and he purses his lips, no doubt waiting for whatever outburst I’m about to unleash.

“Really?  That’s the first thing you say to me?  No, ‘Sorry I wasn’t here sooner’ or ‘Sorry I’m no good for your mother’ or ‘Sorry you’re a fucking only child now’!?” my voice pitches high and whiny at the end and I hate myself for it.  It makes me seem weak.

“Alexa, that’s enough,” my mum scolds, as if I would ever obey her.

“No, I really don’t think it is.  I called you, both of you.  I left you message after message, sobbing into the phone because I had nobody.  I gave you one last chance and you pissed it away, just like everything else.  And now you’re here, pretending to cry while Lisa lies beneath our feet and you have the audacity to ask if Harry is my boyfriend?”

My outburst is met with my parents’ utter silence so I take that as my cue to continue.

“Lisa was the only person who loved me enough to take care of me.  She was so selfless and so forgiving that I bet her last dying wish was that you could come see her one final time before she descended into the Earth.  And you stripped her of that opportunity.  Where were you this time?  Vegas, Miami, Hawaii?  It doesn’t really matter though, does it?  All that matters is that you weren’t here when she needed you.  Or I needed you.  Trying to make up for your lack of presence now makes no difference.  Lisa’s still gone and I still hate you.”