Honestly, thinking back to the phone call I had with my mom, I wasn't sure what I was supposed to expect when Brian and I got here. Granted, when I called her back, the conversation was really short.

Just a, "I really need you and your brother to come back home. It would mean a lot to me." Follow by a, "Well, when?" And the response was, "In two weeks, if that's okay."

I hung up right after and ignored every phone call after. Was I wrong to say I'd gotten used to not answering her phone calls? It was easier that way. Stress-free and happy.

But as she held me tight, and squeezed me, something was different. Just being like this in the kitchen reminded me of the good days from when I was a kid. The happy days.

I liked this.

"Oh, nena." My mother put me at arm's length and looked me over once again as if she hadn't. The smile on her face pushed wrinkles on the corners of her eyes. "Forget all of that. It's so good to see you. I'm happy you're here."

A normal response would've been "Why wouldn't I be here?" but both her and I knew why I never came back.

This house hurts me as much as this town.

"Look," my mother looked back at the stove, pointing at the pots placed to cook dinner, "I'm making some stew con arroz. Nothing special." She shrugged. "Easier for more than a few people."

I looked at her finger, counted the three pots, and glanced back at her face as she looked at me. Her eager smile confused me for a second. Cooking wasn't her favorite pastime, even if she was making one of my favorite dishes; after a while, she complained cooking for a lot of people was a chore.

What confused me was, granted, I knew Jun would be on his way, meaning him plus me, then her and my dad, that would've been four people—not a big dinner. I hadn't told her I was bringing Brian, and as far as I knew, Jun hadn't mentioned bringing Elin, his fiancé, along from the family-drama trip.

Who else was she expecting?

"Mom?" As her hand slid down my arm so she'd hold mine, I squeezed her fingers and furrowed my brow. "Who else is coming?"

Quickly, she turned back and looked at me. "Hm?"

My eyes widened. "Is someone else coming here, mom? Is—"

Someone screamed. A guy. Right away I knew it wasn't Brian, but I recognized it right away.

Turning towards the door, I listened as I heard Jun. I wasn't sure why he yelled the first time, but when he shouted at someone, calling them a dirty mother fucker, I quickly let my mother's hand go and ran. It didn't matter who he was yelling at, but the fact that he did scared me. Brian was out there.

"Kadijah, wait!" my mother called out to me.

But my hands were already on the front door.

With one hard push, I made my way out onto the front yard and into the starting rain. Thunder boomed overhead, lightning brightened a spot behind the trees just down the road. I saw it out of the corner of my eye but didn't turn to look at it. I looked ahead, at the street and driveway. Jun rushed in front of Brian who had his hand over his bloody lip. At my father, who stood with his arms crossed and disapproval on his face. And at...

"Mario?" My ex's name left me with such shock, such disbelief, I stumbled forward down the front steps. It wasn't to approach him, even though he thought I was.

Mario quickly turned at the sound of my voice and a stupid, rotten, ugly smile touched his face. With rain sliding down his cheeks, he walked in my direction, shoulders back, neck high. His green eyes used to make me swoon. With his light brown skin with brown-almost-blonde curls, I used to think he was an angel.

Used to.

The Mario who approached me, grinning like his prized trophy was finally returned to his shelf, was a demon, a monster.

I hate him. I hate you, Mario.

"Hey, Kay." Mario opened his arms, damp with rain, and continued up the driveway.

I hurried past him.

"Kay?" I heard Mario behind me, but I didn't care about him.

My focus changed, from my brother to Brian. Jun may have pushed him behind his back, but Brian looked at me. A mix of anger and frustration darkened his golden eyes. With his hand on his lip, sticky with blood, I felt sick to my stomach.

Quickly, I rushed down the driveway, past my father, and cupped Brian's face in my hands. He closed his eyes once he felt my touch.

"Did you bring this guy?" my father asked behind me. "Who said you could bring someone we don't know, hm?"

Brian's forehead pressed against mine. I let him stay there for a moment before inching back to check his face. His lip was split, red, and slightly swollen on his cheek. To see him like this hurt me, and him. I knew it by the look on his face.

Brian was always the strong one, the protector. And now—

"Kay?" my father called me, and I turned. Jun blocked most of the view. His fists were clenched at his side, shoulders trembling as he took in deep breaths. Inching my head to one side, I could see just a little of my father.

And his scowl. "Kay!"

"No!" Jun quickly pointed before I could say a word. "You don't get to ask questions right now, dad. We need answers. About him!" He motioned towards Mario. "How, what, why—"

"This weekend isn't about your questions," my father said. "It's about your mother."

"Don't be selfish, man." Mario shook his head. "It's about Maria and—"

"No." My father quickly raised a hand.

While everyone argued, I bit the insides of my cheek. This wasn't what I agreed to. When my mother frantically called to get us to come over, it was to see her and deal with my dad. I knew if I could talk to them, and forgive them, I'd begin the closure I needed for my future.

Dealing with Mario wasn't a part of that plan. And neither was Brian getting into a fight with him.

"Kadijah, you and your brother are going to go in the house." My father spoke to me like I was a child. I glanced at him just as he walked down the driveway, arms still folded across his chest. His eyes darted from Jun to me, then over to Brian. "Your friend wasn't invited."

"Oh?" I bit my lip and shook my head. "But Mario was?"

My father didn't say anything. His silence only angered Jun, who growled and pressed his hands up into his damp curls. A frustrated glare passed over my father before he looked at Mario. He moved to take a step forward, but Brian reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him.

Quietly, Brian muttered to Jun, "Don't. It isn't worth it."

Jun turned quickly. "Really? No." With the same irritated, angry turn, Jun looked at our father. "If that fucker can chill here with you, Brian stays, too," he demanded. "If you want Brian to go, tell that fucker to leave."

"Language." My father pointed his hard, work-scarred finger. "Don't you speak to me like this."

As Brian tugged Jun back, quietly telling him to stop, that it didn't matter, the emotion came over me. I was suddenly focused on Mario and his stupid grin. Even with the altercation, the yelling, and the fighting, he still found pleasure in all of it. Mario, the one guy I knew lived off drama like it was the sugar to his coffee.

I hated it. It was bitter, dry, and burned my insides. And that was how I felt looking at my father's face.

For a second, I couldn't hear him. His lips moved—I knew he was speaking to me, to us—but I couldn't make out the words. My insides told me we were being ordered to go in the house because it made sense; that was something my father would say. But my newfound pride, my steel exterior, though cracking under the sudden pressure, remained strong.

Brian pushed Jun behind me and towards the car. I straightened and formed fists at my sides.

"We're not going inside, pa," I said to my father, then swallowed hard. My nerves felt like boulders in my throat. "I think it's best if we leave."

"Kay, what, no." Brian quickly turned back and reached for my hand. "Look, it's okay. You guys go in—"

"Fuck that!" Jun shouted.

"—I can stay somewhere else. I can get a motel and something, or—"

Turning my head, I looked at Brian. "We can get a motel," I said before looking back at my father. "We're not staying here. Especially with him," I nodded towards Mario, "lingering around like a cockroach."

"A cockroach?" My father's brows lifted.

"Right." I narrowed my gaze. It glued to Mario as his grin weakened. "An insect just waiting for scraps like he usually does."

"Oh." Mario laughed. "You think you know me, huh?"

I did. I knew him better than anyone, probably more than he knew himself. And that made me sick. Still, after all this time, he failed to see how he was such a narcissistic prick.

Without another word, I slid my hand into Brian's and turned back towards the car. Jun was silent as he watched me open the passenger-side door. But when we locked eyes, he knew what I wanted—we were leaving and none of us needed to stay.

Because he said, "Bet. I'll be down by the inn down on Normandy Street."

"Bet," I said as Jun turned back towards his car.

Brian didn't argue. When I made up my mind, there was no going back. He knew that, knew from experience. Rather than ask questions as to why, what, and when we would come back, he slid his hand over his lip and wiped away at the last bit of blood. Making his way around the car, he looked at me. "Where's Normandy Street?" he asked.

I hopped in the car, shut the door, and waited for Brian to load our bags back into the trunk. I ignored my father because he kept yelling. I tried to keep my gaze forward, so I didn't have to see Mario.

But that failed the moment I heard my mother's voice. I turned back at the house's front door just as Brian hopped in the driver's seat. Jun's car rushed past us, down the road, the sound of his engine drowning my mother's words.

I read her lips. She didn't want me to go. Yet, as Brian turned on the car and pressed his foot on the gas, following Jun, I told myself I needed to. To protect me.

***

[Thank you for reading!]