Page 12 of Poems He Wrote

“That was a white lie,” he says. “I heard you come in and I wanted you all to myself.”

“Well, hello to you too! I’m doing great, thanks for asking. Nice to see you.” I poke at him.

“Listen man, I’m going through a breakup, okay? You don’t have the right to judge, you weren’t even in a relationship, yet here we are.” he says smugly, looking me over. I love him to pieces, but he is such a petty teen.

His words reach my brain a second too late, so I don’t respond.

“That woman–” he says, pointing back to the living room. “She is creepy.” I look at him with confusion all over my face, so he continues, “She hugs me too closely, like tits pressed to me and all, gets a good feel of my back too, every time.”

“She did the same to me, maybe she’s just touchy like that.” I respond.

“Noah defending someone who is touchy!? You really are not okay, man.” Jensen laughs, “Grab that tray over there, and let’s go.”

“Is there something you’re not telling me, kiddo?” I ask, picking the tray up, but he just shakes his head.

He pushes me back into the shared space, with half a dozen coffee brim-filled cups, and I successfully spill most as I place them on the table. The room is alive and chatty, buzzing with something similar to warmth. Dad’s landline rings and I pick up.

“Hello, Noah’s here.” I say into the phone, but I’m welcomed with silence, so I hang up after waiting for a few moments. It’s probably those damn telemarketers or kids playing pranks.

I go back to the couch, and sit between my sister and her asshole man. He doesn’t like it, which makes my day. The phone rings again, but this time Christine jumps up, saying it must be her daughter. Her voice is fifteen times colder than when she was talking to me once she confirms it, but she still keeps the sweet tone, aware that we have our eyes on her and we are all listening.

“No, Ronan. It’s okay,” she says, clicking her nails on the phone stand. “Maybe next year. I’m not mad, my love, why would I be? It’s not like you need one more slice of cake, am I right?”

What the fuck was that comment?Who talks to people like that? I shift my eyes to Jensen, who raises an eyebrow at me. I look over to my dad, but he seems not to notice, as he keeps doing his crosswords.

I remember bringing friends over when I was a child, and all of them found it weird and rude that he was doing the crosswords the whole time. It took me a while to prove to them that, under no circumstances, was he rude, it’s just the Balkan way of living. Once you turn thirty-five, you automatically become the crosswords master.

“Ronan is a weird name for a girl.” Tia whispers, leaning into my shoulder.

“Ronan won’t be able to make it this year. She has to work, her love for animals stops her from loving her mother.” Christine says, bitter as a black liquorice. “I keep trying, but she just has no love for me.”

“Well, we are all excited to meet her. We’ll be here once she’s ready to meet us!” Jensen exclaims, trying to soothe the situation.

“I mean, Christine is right.” Gregory interjects, “Even Noah showed up.”

“Yes. Thank you, my dear.” Christine says, cupping his cheek.

I see Jensen’s eyes almost popping out of his head. Okay, maybe she is a bit more touchy than she should be. They go back and forth about how rude Ronan and I are, for not showing up before, and I can't stop thinking how the poor girl must feel. She’s probably listening to nagging like this almost every day. I remember dad said Christine’s relationship with her daughter is strained, and honestly, I can see why.

Tia stays silent for some time, but as if she can’t listen to this conversation anymore, she stands up suddenly, determined to change the topic. We all turn to her, as Gregory reaches for her over me, and tries to pull her back into the seat. My eyes bulge as I see his palm harshly wrapped around her wrist, making it bright red, his knuckles turning white.

“Keep your hands off my sister.” Jensen says, already jumping to his feet, forming fists, his eyes glued to Greg’s tight grip on Tia, but he gets ignored the moment my sister speaks.

“I’m pregnant.” Tia whispers, a tear rolling down her cheek.

All kinds ofshits, fucksandJesusesfill the room. The earth seems to split open, causing all hell to break loose.

“Good thing Ronan didn’t come today to see all this.” I say, moving away just in time to let seventeen year old Jensen’s fist fly over, and connect directly with Gregory’s jaw.

You can run, but you can't hide In the end you’re always found

You can run, but you can’t hide

From all the things you left behind

7

Dead Memories - Slipknot

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