Page 5 of Final Serenade

My mother’s apartment was in the heart of Hollywood, a few blocks north of Franklin, which just strengthened my hate toward the family dinner tradition. Looking for parking near her building on Wednesday afternoon was like looking for a needle in a haystack without a flashlight. The blasts of music inside my car muffled the noise of the traffic surrounding me as I circled the block in search of a spot for my Honda. Seeing the photos of Frankie Blade had triggered a wave of nostalgia. I was on Hall Affinity’s third album by the time I hit the gridlock near my mother’s place, and Frankie’s voice was the only thing that managed to keep me sane.

My summer recap had been finished and posted in draft on the website for Levi to review, and I felt good about today.

The apartment smelled like the kitchen of Fig & Olive. My nose picked up the faint scent of cumin and rosemary all the way from the courtyard and my taste buds screamed with delight. Our mother was a great cook. Her hot homemade meals had been a desperate attempt to give our family some sense of normalcy after our father left us, and while it hadn’t always worked, I’d appreciated the efforts.

Despite the lack of desire to visit the home that’d harbored so many miserable memories, I still looked forward to our mother’s culinary creations.

Ashton’s room sounded like a battlefield. I knocked twice before entering. He didn’t respond, which added more fuel to my burning irritation.

“Incoming,” I warned, peeking inside. The air was stale and the curtains were shut. The place was reminiscent of a bunker.

My brother was sprawled on his twin bed like an amoeba, his eyes staring unblinkingly at the chaos happening on the huge plasma monitor mounted to the wall. The only sign of life was his twitching hands holding the game controller.

“Hey!” I called, surveying the piles of dirty clothes and empty soda cans.

“What’s up?” Ashton muttered. His gaze never left the horde of animated people who were dressed in camo and running around with guns on the screen.

Pop, pop, pop!The shots sliced through my head like a hacksaw.

“Could you turn this down?” Wincing, I gestured at the monitor. “Please?”

“Hold up.” His hands jerked along with the controller. He wasn’t present. The assault on my ears continued.

“Ashton!” I raised my voice. My frustration was about to reach the point of no return. “Come on!”

“I said hold on!” A low growl carried over the noise of the video game.

This, right now, reminded me of the time preceding my father’s departure. He’d been withdrawn, lost in his own world. Getting a reaction from him had seemed almost impossible.

One day he’d gone to the store to get cigarettes and never come back.

Rage racing through my blood, I walked over to the monitor and yanked at the cord. The gunfire stopped and the screen went dark.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Ashton cried out, tossing both hands in the air.

Good, I thought triumphantly,at least that made him move.But part of me still crumbled. I hated arguing with my brother, but sadly, he didn’t understand any other language.

“Since when has ‘fuck’ become a word in your vocabulary?” I stomped over to the chair and went through the pile of dirty T-shirts, examining them one by one. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. Drugs, maybe, or an explanation why my brother had been ignoring the outside world for the past four years.

“Since whenever I want. Get out of my room.” Ashton slid from the bed with the intention of turning the game back on, but I intercepted him before he got to the power cable.

We stood in front of the monitor, his lanky six-two with a messy mop of California sun-kissed curls against my rigid, dainty five-four, staring at each other like two sworn enemies.

“You need to check yourself,” I started, trying to keep my voice steady. “If you don’t want to go to college, you can’t stay here after you graduate.”

He laughed in my face. “I’ll stay here for as long as I want to. Mom said I can.”

“Mom’s going to lose her housing assistance the day you turn eighteen, asshole. You need to start looking for a job.” My rage grew stronger with every second.

“I’m not moving out.” Ashton’s lips twitched with irritation. “End of story!” He rolled his eyes for good measure.

Arguing with him was like beating my head against a brick wall.

I blew out a breath, then I lost it. “You can’t do this anymore! There comes a point in every person’s life when he has to man up and take some responsibility. And your responsibility is to make sure Mom doesn’t have to work two jobs to keep this apartment while you’re wasting away in your room playing dumb video games and waiting for a miracle to happen. Nothing’s going to happen if you don’t get your lazy ass out of bed!”

There was a mean side of me that wanted to bring our deadbeat father into the conversation, because Ashton was living proof that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, but something, maybe respect and empathy for our mother, stopped me from saying it out loud.

“You two need to stop!” Her voice drifted at me from the hall. From the corner of my eye, I saw her small figure appear in the doorway.

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