Page 32 of The Pucking Kiss

“It was just an off-hand comment, Romai,” he groaned. “This isn’t Literature class where you analyze everything I say.”

“I know, but if we’re doing this together, then I think it’s a good idea if we’re not so closed off with each other,” I suggested, “I mean, I can relate with you never having people around much at home.”

“Can you, really?” he scoffed, “I thought your family was perfectly fine.”

I sucked in a sharp breath, “Well, technically, I didn’t get to spend a lot of time with my parents. I’ve been living with my grandparents since I was a child, so I never really had mom and dad around to just talk to.”

He leaned over closer as if what I had said captured his interest. “Divorced?”

“Nope,” I shook my head, looking at the floor. “Dead.”

There was a small silence. I knew it was always awkward talking about dead parents. Not many people my age could relate to that, and they usually never knew what to say to me.

“Romai….”

“It’s okay,” I assured him, my gaze still trained on the floor, “It’s been many years now. I don’t know if I should think of it as a loss because, well, I never really had them properly to begin with?”

“I feel like an asshole now,” he admitted, scooting over closer and wrapping his arm around me. “Here I am being angsty about my living parents, while some people don’t even have them.”

“I’m sure if my parents were living, I’d have my own issues with them too,” I admitted, “Humans aren’t perfect, after all, are they?”

“You don’t have to tell me twice. My nannies did a better job at raising me than my parents ever did,” he admitted.

I reached out to touch his hand, feeling awed that he had decided to share such a vulnerable memory with me. “What was that like?”

“My mom and dad hated each other’s guts by the time I was five. I don’t even know why they ended up getting married to each other since they were clearly not compatible in the slightest. My mom turned into a workaholic to escape the problems of her relationship, and my dad…well…”

“You can tell me,” I encouraged gently.

“My dad decided he wanted to distance himself from his family. Focus on his friends, hobbies, those sorts of things,” he replied, showing no hint of emotion. It was like he had numbed himself to feeling any pain.

“All that when you were only five years old?”

“It got worse as I grew older,” he shrugged. “On the odd occasion that both my parents were home at the same time, it would result in screaming matches. One time, my mother got so angry with him that she threw a vase at him. I still remember that. They’d think I didn’t know what was going on, but I could hear everything from my room,” he admitted with a sigh.

“Oh, I’m really sorry.”

“The day they divorced was probably a happy one for me,” he said darkly. “I was happy that at least the arguments would stop.”

“And you stayed with your mom?”

“Not like I had a choice. After the divorce, my dad decided that we wanted to go on a self-discovery arc and travel the world. I always wondered if having me meant made him feel trapped.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“If it isn’t, then I don’t have any evidence to prove otherwise,” he replied. “Anyway, he lives in New York now. Apparently, he has a new girlfriend. I haven’t talked to him in years.”

My heart wrenched hearing his story. I knew that it must have taken a lot of courage for him to open up to me like that. I rested my head on his shoulder, wondering what I could even say to him.

“I never knew…”

“How would you?” he snorted. “It’s not like I wear a sign on my head saying ‘my family’s fucked up.’”

“No,” I shook my head, “It’s just the way you carry yourself.”

“Appearances are deceiving,” he stated plainly. “I found a release in sports. It was the only thing that helped me take my mind off things. I’m pretty sure I would have checked into a hospital for depression if it wasn’t for hockey.”

I bit down on my lip. “Now that you’re older, don’t you want to change things?”

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