God, he hated owing her. Maybe that’s part of the problem, Sam thought as he ascended the stairs to her apartment. It was midnight and she had to work the next morning which made his intrusion more of a put-out, which made his debt that much greater. The small amount of wine he drank with his girlfriend before getting kicked out had left him with a dry mouth which longed for a cigarette and a conversation. His sister opened the door moments before he even put his hand on the knob. She was waiting with tired eyes and restless feet. So fucking dramatic!
“Hey” he said, innocently enough.
She ignored it and walked him in. “I left a blanket and pillow on the couch. I leave for work at eight so so do you. Also, if you watch TV: keep it low.”
“You know, I don’t need the…” he stopped, letting her bitchiness slide, she had no idea how awful his night had been.
Jamie, his sister, quickly disappeared somewhere in the darkened apartment. Sam started emptying his pockets on the coffee table next to tonight’s bed, grabbing his cigarettes and lighter, then sat down on the couch. She re-appeared.
“So,” she said, still trying to keep the look of annoyance, “what happened?”
He smiled. Of course she wants to know. Sam and his sister played a game where they both pretended to not care at all about the other’s sex life, which was partly true, however, they did care about how the other’s compared to their own.
“I don’t know.” He said with a sigh, while lighting up. “I said the wrong thing I guess, she got angry so, well, you know me, I
started
saying more
wrong things, the
wrongest things
I could think of. I started saying more wrong things, the wrongest things I could think of.”
“That sucks, you know, I liked this one too.” Jamie said of the girl.
“Yeah, so did Mom. I guess I should just be completely fucking miserable so you and Mom can be happy, huh, can have someone pretty at the table on Thanksgiving, yeah?” He got angrier than he should of and quickly regretted it and offered an apology of truth, “I get this irritation when I spend too much time with people, I feel like I need to inflict pain–because they’ve gotten too boring, you–”
“That’s kind of fucking sick!” She said and laughed as she took a seat on the couch’s arm.
“Yeah, I guess…” he laughed too, lightly, and let the conversation drift into silence.
“Speaking of Thanksgiving,” she said after a moment had passed, “We have to decide if were going to Mom’s or Dad’s.” Since their parents had gotten divorced when they were adolescence, they had always made this decision together. So far the visits were at a 2 to 1 ratio in their Mother’s favor. “But we have to decide soon, Dad called and wants to know if he should book a flight.”
“I don’t care, you decide–”
“You didn’t….tell him I’m still with Mark? Did you?” She asked, getting to the point.
“Not that I know of.” He said and added nastily, “Believe it or not, I don’t spend time talking about you.”
“Then why does he think were still together?”
“Aren’t you?” He snuffed out his cigarette.
“Yes, but…” She paused, “I only see him every now and then. I mean, it’s basically over.”
“Basically? Okay.” He lit another one, “It’s not my business, do whatever you want.”
“WELL! Thank you very–”
“But if I ever see the guy I’m gonna crack his fucking head open.” Sam said matter-of-factly, while he put his feet up on the coffee table.
“Right!” She laughed and rolled her eyes, quite understandably, as Sam had never been in a fight in his life and was never the “protective”–or caring– brother type.
“No!, you know what” he said, throwing his hands in the air, “you want to be with someone who calls you all that shit and treats you like…go ahead, I don’t really care.” And he was quiet once again, angry but not that interested.
“Alright,” she said with a sigh, getting up from the couch. “I have to wake up early so, goodnight.”
“‘Night” he said, as she walked away. Bu quickly added, “Are we going to be like them? Like Mom and Dad?”
She stopped and turned around to make sure it was an earnest question. His face said that it was. He was sprawled out on the couch, his feet on the coffee table, cigarette in mouth, too selfish to realize or care how badly he had fucked up tonight. Or to really beat the shit out of her abusive boyfriend.
“Going to be?” She asked and walked off to her room.
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