The Fragile Ordinary(42)

I was silent so long, remembering that day, that Tobias prodded. “Comet?”

I blinked and looked across the room at the boy who was staring at me with such concern and tenderness that I wanted to launch myself into his arms.

No one ever just hugged me anymore.

Never my parents.

Vicki and Steph had stopped.

I pushed the thought away. “I think something happened to my mum. Dad’s parents died before I was born but Carrie’s parents are alive. And she has a sister. I’ve never met any of them. I think they hurt her growing up.”

“Hurt her? You mean...like abused?”

I nodded. “I think so. Whatever happened, I think it messed her up good. And I think my dad saved her. All she cares about is Dad and art. And she’s not good at sharing. I think... I think she feels threatened by me. Afraid that somehow by loving me, Dad would love her less. They argued about him helping me with a project at school—that she needed his attention now more than I did. So I started to wonder if maybe that’s why my dad would suddenly stop helping me with homework or change his mind about going to a museum with me.

“Is it her, to appease her? I don’t know.” I shrugged, the action belying my depths of feeling on the matter. “It doesn’t matter what the truth is. The results are the same. They have no time for me. They don’t give a crap. Which is why I’m applying to the University of Virginia and getting as far away from them as possible when I graduate.”

I wasn’t looking at Tobias when I finished. I was ashamed. A child should have changed Carrie—should have given her someone to love and trust beyond my dad. But somehow I wasn’t lovable enough.

“Comet. Look at me.”

His voice, the kindness in it when he spoke to me, had become addictive. And I think that’s why I’d told him the truth about my family. I wanted him to absolve me of the part I played in not being who Carrie needed me to be, and not being the kind of kid my dad would choose over her.

I looked at him and found what I was searching for. Concern, anger, tenderness, all blazed from his beautiful eyes. For me.

“Now your poems make total sense,” he said.

I nodded.

“Your parents are assholes, Comet.”

Succinct. To the point. And I was afraid very, very true. I smiled at him gratefully even though I held a sadness inside of me I didn’t think anyone would ever be able to relieve me of. “Thank you.”

“My dad was an asshole,” he said. “He pushed me all the time to be the best. I had to make straight As for him because he’d never gotten anything lower than a B. I had to play football and campaign for class president. I had to be perfect. Because he was perfect.” He scoffed, and I winced at the rage I saw in the darkest depths of Tobias’s eyes. “He wasn’t perfect, Comet. He was a hypocrite. He died in a car crash with the woman he’d been screwing behind my mom’s back for years. Worst part? My mom knew. She knew, and she let him do that to us all the while he preached at me the whole time. And I worked my ass off!” He flinched when he realized he was yelling. Sighing, he settled down and I fought the urge to walk across the room and hug him. “I wanted so badly to make him proud, because he did so much for us. He was this big shot lawyer and because of him I was going to be a legacy pledge at his fraternity house at Northwestern. I’d be pre-law just like my old man.

“I drove around in my GMC Sierra, wearing the best clothes money could buy, plenty of cash in my wallet, thinking even if I wasn’t living my life, I was living a damn good one, you know? How could I complain about feeling pressured when my dad had done all this before me? He was perfect. The perfect lawyer, perfect dad and the perfect husband.

“I bought into the bullshit. But I’m done. I was done the moment my mom told me the affair had been going on for years. Some woman in his firm. She had a family, too. Fucked us all up when they died together. A nightmarish cliché.” He swiped angrily at the tears in his eyes and glared at my ceiling. “And then my mom told me she was moving us here. I didn’t want to at first, but then I realized it was good. Because here I can be anything I want to be. I can be me without being the me my dad wanted me to be.”

Hurt squeezed my chest tight as I stared at this boy who was so kind to me when he himself was in so much pain. I found myself desperate to save him from losing who he really was. Even if it made him lash out at me. “Is that what you’re doing?” I said it gently, trying not to antagonize him. “Hanging out with Stevie and his friends who don’t seem to care about anything. Not handing in homework on time. Mouthing off to teachers. Taking mean verbal swipes at kids who probably have their own crap going on. Is that what you’re doing, Tobias? Are you being yourself now? Because I don’t think you are.”

He stared at me and I braced myself. I hoped he saw my question for what it was, and not an attack. Finally, after what felt like forever, he said, “When I first got here, I didn’t want to care about anything. I didn’t care about anything.”

His use of the past tense made my breath falter. “And now?”

“Now...” His gaze burned into me. “Maybe you reminded me that I didn’t just care because my dad wanted me to care. Maybe...I just care.”





THE FRAGILE ORDINARYSAMANTHA YOUNG