floating | ✓

25| family

“I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.”

- J.R.R. Tolkien

25| family

Oliver

I sit at the kitchen tool eating a protein bar. It’s five in the afternoon, and I am not looking forward to what follows—the night. The dinner.

The Sunday dinner.

“I am the one who deserved that thank you,” Jason says, putting on his jacket and getting ready to leave, as Owen and I will be heading out soon.

I haven’t seen Owen the whole day. If he’s still passed out and somehow forgets about the dinner, nobody will be more relieved than me.

I hope he has a very bad hangover so he can’t move, so I don’t have to go to dinner at all.

“But why the hell would he get drunk on Sunday morning at 11 am?” Jason asks.

“I don’t know,” I mumble.

My brother might be many things, but he is not irresponsible. He knows we have dinner tonight, and he has to be present there. Why would he even get drunk today?

Something is wrong. I frown.

“I don’t feel good about this,” Jason voices my thoughts.

“Yeah.” I nod.

“Why don’t you ask him what’s going on?” Jason suggests.

I shake my head.

“Come on, it’s just a simple question. Ask him,” Jason says, patting on my shoulder before opening the front door.

I sigh. Jason wishes me the best of luck before heading out.

Finishing eating, I decide to check on my brother. I take the stairs and reach his room. I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms over my chest.

Owen groans. Then he turns over in his bed, lying on his stomach, hitting his head with the pillow.

My brother should join a drama school.

“Is it 6 already?!” Owen asks, groaning.

I don’t need to say anything. He has a clock right on his bedside table.

“I don’t want to go,” Owen whines, still lying on his stomach.

It’s surprising, coming from him. He’s the one usually super excited about the dinner. He makes a point every now and then how it is so important to meet our family.

“Dad would be hurt if he hears you now,” I say flatly.

Owen groans again.

Instead of wasting my time there, I go back to my room and find a decent button down and jeans to wear for dinner. Then I head back downstairs. Owen is in the kitchen bar, drinking water and pulling his hair.

“If you don’t want to go, then call and skip it,” I say. “Dad will understand.”

Of course, he will. If it was me, not so much.

“I can’t. I already didn’t go to the office today. I was supposed to meet Dad in the morning.”

I narrow my eyes at him.

“Why would you do that?” The question leaves my mouth instantly.

I don’t understand. What’s going on with Owen? He missed Dad’s meeting. Then he got drunk, and now he doesn’t want to go to dinner.