Husbands But Not

34: Cerulean

Kent

"You're gonna like it better here." Dad said.

"No I won't." I said.

"It's gonna be the same." Dad said.

"No it won't." I said.

"Aunt Karen misses you."

"Aunt Karen hasn't talked to me in two years."

"Hence why she misses you."

"I don't miss her."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY."

I did shut the fuck up.

Aunt Karen greeted me as if I was her long lost son. She was so fake. I hated her. It felt so weird being crushed by her hug, and she smelled like cleaning supplies.

"How are you doing, Kent my love?" Kent my love? What the hell? She officially lost it now that she was on her third marriage.

"I'm doing just fine." I said, sprinkling a salty attitude. "Would've done better if I came here willingly." my mouth just couldn't handle the unfiltered responses my brain thought of.

Before anyone had the chance to say anything, I stormed to the guestroom which we stayed in whenever we visited aunt Karen. Dad visited her often since she was his only sister.

"Uhm..." A girl was sitting cross-legged on what looked like her bed, while a boy was sitting on the floor by the closet. They were around my age and looked equally confused. I mean, I too would be confused if a strange kid barged into my room. They were visibly siblings.

The second thing I noticed was that the room's furniture was different; different wall paint and beds.

"I'm sorry I didn't-" I stuttered.

"You must be Kent." The girl jumped out of bed, quite happy to see me. That was a rare incidence. She shook my hand with visible enthusiasm. "I'm Marisol!"

"How do you know who I am?" I was kind of stunned.

"We've been expecting you since last week." The guy said. It passed my head for a second until I realised what he actually said.

Last week.

Dad had been planning this for a while and I was so damn clueless being all wrapped up in my life, not knowing how little control I had over it.

I gave up and sat on the floor next to the guy. "I'm Mario." he said.

"Oh I'm sorry." I couldn't stop myself before I said it. "I mean-"

"No no, it's fine. I get it. Ha-ha it's me, Mario." He spoke in a very monotonic voice, devoid of any actual humour.

Marisol scolded him even though I was the one who started it. She was looking at me like I was a talking doll. Considering how dad had been controlling my life behind my back, quite literally, I might as well call myself a puppet.

When she looked like she was gonna burst any second, she spoke. "Did you unpack?"

I went over the ordeals of the past few minutes. Talking to Marisol felt like catching up with an old friend you never knew you lost. "So yeah, I don't even know where I'm gonna sleep. This used to be the guest room."

Mario was kinda still upset with me, but he didn't say anything or act upon it. I didn't care right then, but I knew I was gonna think about it all night.

"If I remember what dad said correctly, you're sleeping in my room." Mario said. I flinched. I hurt him and he was forced to room with me. Shit.

"I'll just sleep in this room." I said hopefully.