Page 17 of My Debacle with De Lorenzo

4. Dylan

October 01, 2018

My muscles are stillburning from my session with the bag. A shower didn’t help soothe the ache, either. I went too hard this morning. This is the after-effect of what my family has affectionately namedemotional hangover week, the tense energy left behind after my sister comes to visit. It’s the reason I skipped four days of school last week. Whenever Dana comes home, she unbalances the very delicate scales we have in this house. Everything is held up by flimsy strings, and we work hard to keep ourselves in a state of equilibrium. But Dana came home the weekend before last, threw everything out of whack, then left again. I’m usually okay by Friday, which is why I was fine to go back to school last week, but my mom always takes the longest to recover. I pull on a T-shirt, a pair of jeans and sneakers then make my way to the kitchen.

The scene I’m greeted with is not normal. “Hey, dad, where’s mom?”

“Still in bed.” He pours himself a cup of coffee from the percolator. I’m sure he needs it. He looks exhausted as well. None of us sleep when Dana comes home. “Emotional hangover week. You know how it is.”

Yep. We all know it way too well. “I’m gonna go check on her.” I walk back upstairs and into their bedroom. “Morning, mom.”

“Hey, sweetie.”

As I approach the bed, I see crumpled tissues on the nightstand and her eyes are puffy. I crouch beside the bed and brush her brown hair off her forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay. I’ll be ready to get out of bed in an hour or so.”

“You want me to stay at home with you?”

“No, you already missed four days of school last week. I promise I’m fine.”

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