Jellyfish

23. Milestones

My eighteenth birthday brought a new kind of peace in my life, one that I never thought I'd feel. There was still the fact that we weren't quite legal citizens, but Amaan had called that morning and promised me he'd been working on it. I really didn't talk to the guy often, but I should. He was the one we had to thank for all the good we had now, and he was only going to make it better. For now, I reveled in the knowledge that there was no way I ever had to go home now. Could they possibly threaten me back? Sure, but I doubted my parents cared enough to go through all of that. What that meant is that eighteen was freedom. It was existing again without fear, or at least with much less than before. I was in a better place, to say the least, and I was spending more time than ever away from home. It's also possible that more than half of that time was spent at Isaac's house, but who could blame me?

Cain was being a little more difficult than usual today, and for once it had nothing to do with me. He was snarky and moody all the time, but today it was extra amplified, and all because Isaac had mentioned the big T word earlier that morning. I didn't know whether his hostility came from a place of fear or a place of pride in all honesty. It was hard to tell with Cain. I'd learned to narrow things down to just a few choices and work from there which was how I'd come to be weeding answers out of a grown, adult man. Isaac had given up hours ago, but I was still here, still wondering. To me, it had seemed like a fantastic idea. If they had the money, I mean, why not? To Cain, he was being judged and tossed off and that either insulted or terrified him. I had yet to really figure out which one it was.

"I don't need therapy!" He snapped, dropping his head onto their kitchen table just barely missing his lunch.

I sighed back. We had been going at it for too long and he just didn't want to bend. "Look, it's not like therapy is shameful. The whole point is literally just to help you."

"I'm fine."

My eyes narrowed in on the stained shirt he'd been wearing for a week and the facial hair he'd not bothered to tame. "Yeah, I don't know if that's the word I'd use. What you are is stubborn." He tossed a crumbled-up napkin in my vague direction, but I continued. "You can't just stop living, Cain. This is only the end of the world because you're letting it be."

"I don't need therapy," he insisted. "I'm doing just fine here on my own. I'll go back to work in a few days, just let me rest."

"You've been resting for three months."

"Oh, fuck you."

I watched him walk away, no longer surprised by the childish nature of a grown man. Cain was one of those people who had been raised badly and was simultaneously eighty-three and five. He was matured by the process, but also stunted and this meant he was hard to work with. Cain's childish nature came out when he felt fairly vulnerable or defensive. He'd throw a fit, or storm off, or really just sit and cry, and I knew it was because he just really didn't understand what to do with himself. For some reason, he thought I did, but that's where the problem laid. I didn't know what to do for him, how could I? I could offer a helping hand and a shoulder to lean on, but that's the extent of my expertise. I'd said as much to Isaac which is why he'd suggested the whole therapy thing in the first place.

I think he knew the second he said it, he was going to regret it, and regret it he did. Cain had been as difficult as possible until he'd given up, and now he was going to refuse to even hear me out. Again, I wasn't surprised, but perhaps I was a bit disappointed by the fact. Therapy was a good idea, I was sure of it. Cain needed a professional to teach him what his parents never could, not an eighteen-year old kid with problems of his own. Everyone could see that, everyone but him.

"Did you give up?" Isaac appeared in the doorway, obviously peeved.

"No," I stood as I spoke. "He did."