Kick Him When He’s Down

Holden

Two weeks ago, I submitted my forms to request a thesis advisor and now have less than two months to complete my proposal. It’s crunch time. I had a brief reprieve after my exams, but it’s time to bury myself in history again. Something, anything, to keep my mind off of the gorgeous brunette staring at me from inside my phone. The part of my history I want to keep reliving.

I find myself wondering if she’s still going to the library every Friday at 1pm. Is there a chance she’d go to try to see me? Does she want to see me as much as I want to see her? I wouldn’t blame her if she hated me. After how we ended things, she probably suspects it’s something to do with my mother, but I doubt she’d guess the entire reason. In all honesty, I hope she never does. It still floods me with shame when I think about it.

“All right, I’ve let you wallow for weeks. Now, we’re going to sit down and talk.”

I lift my head when my bedroom light turns on and find my big brother standing in my doorway.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, draping my arm over my eyes to block the light.

“Well, I live here. I’m questioning whether you’re living or dying here. It’s time for an intervention.”

I roll my eyes under my forearm. Captain Obvious is here. “Specifically, what are you doing in my bedroom?”

“Technically, I’m still in the hallway. It would never hold up as a trespassing claim. Get yourself up. We’ll be in the living room.” Without giving me time to debate, Boyd walks off down the hall.

We?

I check the time on my phone, taking a moment to stare at the photo of Dina, me, and Nacho in front of the red canoe feature the last time we went to observe the dog park. Again. Our smiling faces gave no indication that we’d be in this situation a few weeks later. I wish she knew if I had it my way, we wouldn’t be here.

Once I’m somewhat presentable, I plod downstairs to find the sibling duo who have taken it upon themselves to disturb my silent brooding. I sit in the lone armchair without acknowledging either of them.

Boyd leans forward so his elbows rest on his knees, drawing both my and Phoebe’s attention. He may irritate me, but my brother has a natural ability to command a crowd. “You can’t keep going on like this. I get it. She dumped you, but it’s time to move on.”

I blink at him, trying to determine if I’m annoyed or angry. “She didn’t dump me.” I cringe as the defensive words spill out because it sounds like I’m trying to protect my pride. I lower my voice and start over. “She didn’t dump me. I… I broke up with her because…” Words fail to form. Nothing can make this scenario okay, and saying it out loud feels like I’m ratting out Mum for her ignorance.

“Spit it out, boy. Because what?” Phoebe prompts, gesticulating with her hands. Based on her tone, she’s trying to resist wrapping them around my throat.

I glance at my siblings, harbouring guilt over this secret I’ve kept in, not wanting to change their perspective of our mum. But the truth is the truth, even when it sucks. “Mum told me I couldn’t date Dina because she’s ‘dark’. She also said her and Dad didn’t work as hard as they did so they could leave everything to a ‘mixed-breed orphan’.” I practically choke on the words as I say them; a renewed fury building.

“She said what?” Boyd stares at me, eyes narrowed.

“Don’t make me repeat it.” I take a deep breath and continue. “So I broke up with Dina because I wasn’t going to build a future with someone who would never feel welcomed. She doesn’t have anyone other than her sister. She deserves better than that.”

Boyd releases a long, low whistle and collapses into the back of the sofa. “Wow, I never would have imagined her saying something like that.”

“Me neither. I honestly don’t know if I can forgive her.” I’ve been trying, but I can’t.

“When you first started moping around the house after that family dinner, I assumed Dina either broke up with you because of how uncomfortable it was, or Mum encouraged you to call it off because Dina was distracting you from your studies.”

“No. The opposite. She’s done everything to keep me motivated and helped me more than I can even explain. The way that girl can find her way around a library? Whoo.” I blow out a breath and chuckle, recalling our library sessions. Then I feel suffocated by guilt because I promised if she helped me study, I’d help her, and I didn’t. Another way I failed her.

Boyd and Phoebe laugh and exchange a look before my sister adds, “You are such a nerd.” Phoebe, who has been uncharacteristically quiet, levels me with a serious look. “Now I get why you haven’t been coming to family dinners.” She stares at me with so much anger in her face, but I don’t think it’s directed at me. “Are you going today?”

Really? That’s what she’s worried about?

“No, I’m not going. And if Mum can’t figure out why, then she’s more ignorant than I thought.”

My sister’s face relaxes, giving way for a more sympathetic expression. She tilts her head, which reminds me of Nacho when he was confused. “You know, for the last few weeks, I was angry with you for disappearing. I thought you were just being dramatic because, let’s face it, Dina is ah-mazing. But if that’s what happened… Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because I don’t want anyone picking sides. This is between me—”

Boyd cuts me off. “But it’s not. It’s not between you and Mum. It’s between right and wrong. She’s wrong, Holden. I know you think I don’t pay attention, but this girl made you happier than I’ve ever seen you. That has to be worth something.”

The determination in his voice surprises me. He’s speaking like he’s giving a closing argument, or ready to launch a revolution.

In War and Peace, when the troops failed to assemble when they were supposed to, no one could recover to create an appropriate battle plan. Then again, that didn’t seem to matter in the big picture. The big picture changed because of that failure, and what was their initial plan wasn’t the focus anymore. There was a plot twist, and that made the ending a mystery.

Truth is, I don’t know how mine and Dina’s story ends. It doesn’t feel like it’s over. Too many plot holes and unresolved questions.

But not every story gets a happy ending.

I’m fidgety now, from too much pent up frustration. I get up and start pacing around our main floor.

Boyd and Phoebe whisper to each other when I’m at the far point in my circle, so I can’t make out what they’re saying. Whatever it is, they’re both experiencing the same waves of emotions—from outraged to calm and collected.

The clock strikes 3pm, which is normally the time we’d be walking into our parents’ house. Boyd returns from the kitchen after making a phone call, so I expect him and Phoebe to walk out the door to avoid being late. Instead, Boyd sits back down on the sofa and kicks his feet up.

He shrugs when he catches me studying him. “I’m not choosing sides between you and Mum. I’m choosing between right and wrong.”

“Me too. One way or another, she’ll have to realize she was wrong. If that means we have to show some tough love, so be it.” Phoebe takes a sip of the coffee she’s been nursing since this conversation started. “And if I don’t have to eat her dry roast as a result, I’m okay with that, too.”

Boyd and I both laugh. We’ve all suffered through far too many overcooked roasts over the years. There’s a reason we always have gravy.

Someone pounds at the door a short time later, in the middle of a conversation about Grace, who is next door with Aaron. The tempo of my heartbeat speeds up, worried it’s our father coming to fetch us. He’ll lay on a guilt trip like the expert he is. There’s no limit he’ll reach when it comes to defending or supporting his wife. I used to admire that about him, but in this case, he’s guilty by association. There’s such a thing as being too supportive and enabling toxicity.

But Boyd answers the door, and on the other side is a young man holding a pair of pizza boxes. Once he’s tipped the delivery driver, Boyd shuts the door and brings the boxes to the coffee table before walking through the dining area into the kitchen. The sight of a pizza box turns my stomach. It’s one of the many things that reminds me of Dina. Along with books, specific internet searches, documentaries, coloured pens, dogs—in any shape or size—street cars, hot dog carts, Minnie Mouse, and happy couples. But perhaps pizza most of all.

Boyd returns with plates, handing one to each me and Phoebe. “Dig in.”

My sister opens the top box, elated Boyd ordered Hawaiian. The two of them love it, but I’d rather eat gravel. She spins the other box toward me, and I silently pray it’s not double cheese. I open it, looking inside the lid before glancing at the pizza itself. No cheesy notes. No extra cheesy pizza. I lift a slice of Canadian onto my plate, with no desire to eat it.

“What’s wrong? Not hungry? You’ve barely eaten,” Boyd states, with a piece of disgusting pizza halfway to his mouth.

“I don’t know how to move on. I think I’m just stuck in this permanent state of fearing she’ll never forgive me. Like some kind of breakup purgatory. Can’t go forward; can’t go back.”

And neither of my siblings, no matter what they say in support, are able to fix it. I’d give anything to be able to go back. Unfortunately, the only choice is to move forward.