Page 65 of Meet Me at the Metro

“Your Mum and brother came by again this morning,” Rob abruptly informs me, tearing me away from my happy thoughts.

“Don’t call them that.” The bottles in my hands clink together loudly, and I do my best to loosen my tight grip against them.

“Come on,” he sighs. “Blood or marriage, those two are your family. The least you could do is return their calls. That would save me fromhaving to deal with them when I’m busy trying to open up. This is a business, not a therapist’s office.”

“So tell them that.”

“Or you could just answer their calls and tell them yourself. Seriously, this has been going on long enough.”

“Got it,” I snap.

This man has absolutely no clue how close his face is to meeting my fist. So, I’m more than thankful when he disappears to the back of the establishment and leaves me to myself.

Mum and brother, my arse. Rob’s fucking joking me.

Sometimes, I really think my manager enjoys riling me up because he knows better than to refer to them as that. Especially knowing that I’ve barely spoken to either of them in months. I certainly don’t plan on changing that anytime soon, either.

Kimberley may have married my father, but I can’t bring myself to refer to her or her son as family ever again. Doing so would only reopen all the wounds that have scarred over these past 10 years because, in the end, those two are just a constant reminder—living memories of my father’s death. I can’t stand to be around that anymore. I catch myself remembering and grieving that man plenty enough on my own.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and pulls me out of my maze of thoughts. When I read the text message lit up against its screen, I’m thankful for its convenient distraction.

Bad news. The advisor said I missed the deadline for registering for the late semester.

You’re kidding me? She wouldn’t make an exception?

She said the cut-off dates were last week.

I won’t meet the credit hours I need by the endof term… Idk what to do :(

Maybe she’s at a loss for what to do next, but I’m not. I’m not completely sold on what I’m about to agree to do, but I can’t just sit back and watch Nora struggle to make ends meet for the rest of the school year. With a little bit of hesitation, my shaky fingers type out my next message.

Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.

It looks like I’m going to have that talk with my stepmum, after all.

19

FAMILY AFFAIRS

T H E O

Just the thought of having to go and talk to Kimberley to work out Nora’s schedule has every fiber of my muscles tensing. Talks with her are never just simple conversations. They’re complete mind fucks, conjuring up an endless collection of memories that I’m never prepared to recall.

It’s been months since I’ve talked with her or her son—yearssince I’ve seen them. I’m thankful fate hasn’t forced our paths to cross much since my father’s passing, despite our close proximity in this vast but cramped city.

That is, until now.

Until her.

My phone buzzes, and the feeling that bubbles inside me as I see Nora’s name appear on the screen again is exactly the reminder I need to continue forward with this.

Handle it? What do you mean?

Not having the time to elaborate any further on my end, I quickly type back my reply. The text message delivers, stealing away any opportunity I might have had to back out of my plan.

I’ll call you later.

“Rob!” I call out as I finish stocking the last bottle of vodka. I gather my bag and quickly make my way toward the front door ofGullie’s.

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