Page 12 of Quarantined
“Let’s go inside, and I can pack a bag,” I say quietly. “I will come back tomorrow for the rest. Is Reid still up?”
“He is, but I don’t think he is talking to me right now.” Milo looks exasperated, at the mention of Reid’s name.
I feel for Milo. Reid has become very difficult and hot-headed. Reid is loyal, and he will lay his life on the line for his loved ones. But he is rough around the edges.
When I lived in Boston, it seemed like Reid idolized Milo. Now that I am living closer to them, I see that Reid actually holds an unfair amount of resentment towards Milo. I get it. Milo is a pseudo parental figure for Reid and Mia. Hell, he is a pseudo parental figure for me too. But Mia and I idolize Milo.
Reid idolizes Milo as well, but he fights Milo every step of the way. I am not allowed to point it out or take Milo’s side. Reid gets really angry if I do. That’s a sore spot for him.
The problem is, Reid is the one at fault. At most, Milo disciplines Reid for poor behavior. Whereas, Reid spews harsh and hateful words to Milo, which makes me cringe. Reid doesn’t know how good he has it.
Milo and I walk inside the house. My phone is already dead. So Milo uses his phone light to find his way around. I grab a backpack and pack some toiletries. I also pack a duffel bag with some essentials for tonight.
When Milo isn’t looking, I pull out myspecial boxfrom under my bed and slip it in my bag. It has my most prized collections, and I’d rather take it with me.
Ever since I moved to New York, I often stay over at the Sinclair home. And every time I do, Milo packs me lunch for school. Just as he does for his siblings, he includes a handwritten note with my lunches.
The first time I saw a note, my heart melted.
Apple a day keeps the doctor away. Have an awesome day, Rave!
It was basic, encouraging me to get my fruits in for the day. But I never got a lunch note before. My mom and dad always gave me money for lunch.
So I saved the note. And I prayed for another one. My wish was granted, every time I stayed over. More packed lunches, along with handwritten notes.
I am going to keep packing this same apple with your lunch, till you eat it.
And he did.
Enjoy your lunch, because Reid is cooking dinner tonight.
Reid loves to be creative in the kitchen. Every time a new season of Masterchef comes out, he forces us to a home-cooked dinner, to try his newest creation. He is a terrible cook.
I ran out of peanut butter. This is a Jam & Jam sandwich. Here is $5 for a better lunch.
The Jam and Jam sandwich was actually delicious.
I never asked. Did your parents name you Raven because you have jet black raven hair?
Yes, they did.
Why didn’t they name you Snow White? You look more like Snow White than a Raven.
My mother tried. Dad, thankfully, put a stop to it.
I saved all of those notes in myspecial box. I barely have any handwritten memorabilia from my own parents, except for some birthday cards. These notes mean so much more to me than those generic birthday cards. I am addicted to them.
Sadly, Milo informed Reid and me that once we start high school this year, he is not going to pack our lunches anymore. We are being enrolled in school cafeteria lunches. So I tried to collect as many lunch notes as possible by the end of the school year.
As much as I crave those little notes, I make a point not to overstay my welcome. If I stay there two days in a row, I grudgingly scoot back to my empty house by the third day. I hate it.
Which is why I will never forget this moment. I will always be grateful for what Milo is doing for me right now and pray that someday I can repay him.
I secretly vow to myself that I will do anything to decrease Milo’s stress. I will not disappoint him, let him down, or regret letting me move in. I will make him proud.
I chant all of these mantras in my head as we step out together. I have my backpack, and Milo is carrying my duffle bag.
Today I am moving in with the Sinclairs. And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t forced into someone’s path. Someone volunteered to take care of me because they loved me enough.
