[Image Caption: Hunter standing outside of Koda's bedroom.]

Time continues to fly by, and soon, it’s March. Midterms are coming, and spring break is too. I can’t wait. Maybe Nick and I can do something fun for once. I wouldn’t mind getting away from my parents for a few days if they let me. Nick keeps nagging me about living with him next year. I haven’t mentioned it to my parents again. It’s hard to find the right moment. Nick thinks it’s unnatural how strict and overprotective they are, but I’m used to it. I grew up with this. It’s all I know. I don’t like it, but what other option is there? Nick is different. His parents died, and his aunt and uncle raised him. They were lax. He gets to do whatever he wants. Maybe that’s why he chooses to do drugs. I told him it bothered me once, but he just told me not to worry.

Nick keeps bringing up the fact that Samir has been missing. The whole thing is annoying because it’s obvious to me that Samir is just having a bad semester. I don’t care why, but Nick can’t seem to let it go. Whenever Samir misses class, he points it out and goes on about it all damn day. Samir is probably overwhelmed. Mr. Perfect isn’t so perfect, after all.

After yet another day of classes, I head to the parking lot and find my car. When I finally get back to my house, I’m surprised to see that my mom is already home and cooking dinner. I usually beat her back by at least a few hours.

“Hey,” I say as I enter the kitchen, “Did you have a good day?”

“Hello, Koda. I had a fine day. What about you?”

I give her the same basic, meaningless answer that I usually do.

“You’re home early,” I point out. “Slow day at work?”

Mom is a critical care nurse and does a lot of long hours. I’m accustomed to hearing many out-of-pocket anecdotes about her job—the pregnant teenage junky that came in and gave birth to a stillborn, a young man addicted to opioids because of his chronic pain disorder… The grim list goes on for miles, and the stories I grew up hearing always felt like cautionary tales. She was telling me not to be like them, but somehow her lessons never stuck. I still ended up ruined. 

“I took the rest of the day off,” she says. “We had enough staff and your uncle is coming over for dinner tonight with the family.”

It takes me a minute to process what that entails. I don’t know why the fuck she’s smiling. She knows that I’m going to get upset. “Can I just stay in my room?” I ask, hoping she gets called back into work.

“Your relatives will want to see you, Koda. You know that. You can’t just lock yourself away forever.”

They don’t deserve to see me. I should go back to campus and eat dinner with Nick. I start to feel desperate. “Mom, I really don’t—”

“Dakoda,” she says my full name, like a warning. She only does this when I misbehave.

I stand up from the table and head for my room. She doesn’t try to stop me. I just need time to emotionally prepare myself because, for some reason, my own mother insists on fucking me over. It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to slam my door behind me. If I did, someone would just come running from the other side of the house to yell at me.

I lie in my room and sulk for what feels like hours. The doorbell rings, and I feel worse. I roll onto my stomach and push my face into my pillow, wanting to scream. I feel anxious—no, more than that. I feel afraid. For a while, I don’t budge. I hear my mom shout my name, but I still don’t move. Footsteps make their way up the stairs, and my dad appears to scold me. “Get downstairs,” he says. “We have company. You’re being rude.”

I mumble some noncommittal response before sitting up. My dad waits for me. We head into the kitchen, and I see my Uncle Garth with his brainless wife and their stupid, horrible son. Garth is my dad’s brother, so he visits often with his family. I’m not always home when they’re here, but I didn’t have enough warning to make other plans.

I say hello and sit down at the kitchen table. I only speak when spoken to and try not to look at my cousin. Even as I avoid his gaze, I can feel his eyes boring holes into my skull. As our parents chat, he comes and sits down across from me. “Been a while,” he says.

Hunter is four years older than me and just finished school. He did a trade in automotive repair at the Community College campus in Lunenburg. He was living there, so I didn’t have to see much of him. As soon as he finished his program, he moved back in with his parents like the loser he is. 

“Koda, it’s good to see you!” My aunt walks over and inserts herself. 

“Uh-huh,” I say, putting an elbow on the table and resting my chin on my palm. My mother eyes me from across the room, silently demanding that I behave. “Nice to see you, too.”

“How’s school?”

“Killin’ it,” I say simply. I can sit here in silence, but I hate when they try to force me to talk. It’s not like they even care. It’s all small talk—stuff to pass the time—but I can tell they feel just as awkward as I do. 

When I’ve had enough, I excuse myself, pretending like I have to get something from my room and making a speedy exit. When I return upstairs, I sit on my bed and take a few deep breaths. I’m trying to calm down. If I don’t allow myself a moment to relax, everything will get worse. I will get worse. I’ll become all of the bad and terrible things everyone already thinks I am. Just as I’m starting to feel more collected, Hunter’s head appears in my doorway. 

“Why’d you run off?” he asks.

“Please, go away.”

Our parents aren’t around, so I don’t have to pretend to be nice to him. God, I hate the look on his face. He looks amused, like he thinks this is such a funny game. He takes a step into my room, looking around. “Hasn’t changed much.”

I point to the door. “Get the fuck out.”

“Well then. That’s no way to talk to me. We’re supposed to be nice to each other.”

“Bull,” I scoff. He’s mean. He’s always been mean—worse than mean.

“God,” he laughs. “You’re pathetic. Why do you sound so fucking scared?”

It’s because I am scared, but I don’t say that. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

“I’m not,” I say instead. “I’m angry.”

Hunter rolls his eyes. I wish I could kick him the fuck out, throw hands, maul him… but there’s nothing I can do. I’m completely powerless. For all of my life it’s been this way.

“Boys,” my mom interrupts, entering my room from the hallway. “It’s time for dinner.” She looks testy, so I choose not to say anything. I get up and walk past Hunter, trying to come off as tough and intimidating. He watches as I leave, and I can tell he sees right through me. 

“Don’t disappear like that,” my mom whispers when we reach the stairwell.

Hunter doesn’t follow immediately. It bugs me out to think he’s hanging around my room, rifling through my shit. God, I wish we had locks. I can’t even shit in peace.

I sit back down at the table. Hunter shows up a few minutes later. My mom places trays of food on the table, and everyone fills their plates. I don’t feel that hungry, but I know I should eat. I haven’t had much today. Mom made beef curry with rice, which is one of my favourite meals… but I can’t enjoy it. Eh. Maybe there will be leftovers.

I listen to everyone mindlessly chat about things I don’t care about. My uncle asks me about what courses I’m taking. I tell him about a few of them, and then my dad reminds everyone that I’m studying to be a veterinarian.

“Just like Kora!” Garth says.

Sometimes I miss my sister, but I mostly feel bitter that she left me all alone here. Kora is eight years older than me and doesn’t put up with bullshit. I guess it’s normal for her to be off building her own life in Prince Edward Island. I just feel like it wouldn’t kill her to visit once in a while. 

Kora and Hunter used to be friends when we were younger. Then they stopped hanging out—probably because of everything that happened. Plus, he’s a monster. I sometimes can’t believe my aunt and uncle raised a kid like that.

I push my food around on my plate and try to tune everyone out. I eat slowly, not making much of an effort to get anything down. After dinner, dessert is brought out. I pick at that as well, and everyone seems oblivious to how I feel. Maybe they just don’t care.

When everyone is finished eating, they move into the living room. I try to disappear again, but my mom intervenes. So, I sit sandwiched between my parents on the three-seater sofa. I remain quiet, not listening to what everyone is talking about. I only look down at the rug in the center of the room, but I can feel Hunter staring daggers again. I try to tune him out, fixating on my mother as she and my aunt banter back and forth about how much more work they’ll be able to get done now that spring is around the corner. It’s nervous garbage that doesn’t mean anything. They exchange recipes and gardening techniques, but that hardly constitutes a real relationship.

I watch Hunter warily out of the corner of my eye. He hasn’t let up. Things will never be normal between us. I keep gazing at the carpet. I feel clammy, so I decide to excuse myself.

“Where are you going?” my mom asks.

“To piss…”

She looks annoyed, but what did she expect? So, I leave the room and turn down the hallway until I reach the bathroom. I slip inside and flip down the toilet seat lid, sitting on it. I take my phone out of my pocket, checking for messages. Nick’s been pestering me for my stats notes. I guess he’s trying to compile a study guide or something for the midterm. I should probably do that, too. I flip through my school emails for a while and get myself caught up on any messages from my professors. It’s mostly junk mail, but there are a couple important updates about canceled classes and changed assignments.

After a few minutes, I stand up and stare at myself in the mirror. I feel groggy and tired. I hate when I get like this. My whole day has been such a load of crap.

A firm knock on the door brings me back to reality—the one in which my parents don’t trust me alone for even this long. “What?” I snap as the door swings open. My mom is standing there. “I could have had my pants down, you know!”

“I changed your diapers, Koda. Get back in the living room. Stop hiding.”

I head back and sit back down, crossing my arms and leaning against the sofa, looking at nothing in particular. I let myself zone out, trying not to pay attention to anything.

What feels like hours later, my uncle says, “Well, we ought to head home.”

We all stand up and walk towards the door so our parents can say their goodbyes. Hunter doesn’t speak, but it doesn’t matter because he’s still glaring at me. I know what he’s thinking.

As soon as they’re out the door, my dad sighs heavily and leaves the room. I know this is exhausting for him, too. Pretending. I don’t care, though. Maybe he should stop inviting them all over like this. He can invite Garth out for a beer or something instead.

“Koda,” my mom says sternly before I can walk away. “You need to get it together.”

“It makes me feel bad, you know,” I hiss back, everything I’ve been feeling over the last few hours ready to come out. “I hate when you invite them over!”

“That is no one’s intention. You know that.”

I’ve already lost. I always do because she refuses to see my point of view. She refuses to understand why this is as hard as it is for me. I turn away and head upstairs, flopping face-first into my bed. I hope my parents leave me alone for the rest of the day. I need time to myself. I turn my head to the side and let out a long breath. Everyone in this house is so fake. Myself included. 

I don’t move from my bed for hours. I’m trying to block everything out. My skin is prickling. I wish I could crawl out of my own fucking body and light the old one on fire. This new version of myself would be better and purer than the old one—wholly untainted. I would keep it that way for as long as I could. 

No one tries to come talk to me, my dad walks past my room a few times. He’s checking in, probably to make sure I don’t try to fucking kill myself. I know that’s why we don’t have locks on any of the doors—although there are much nastier reasons why it has to be that way. I know my parents think I’m unstable. They think I have no coping skills, but that’s only because they never helped me develop any. I’ve never seen a doctor about it. I probably should, but my parents don’t want me to because we’d all be admitting that I’m damaged and then we would need to talk about why. They aren’t ready to do that. Neither am I, to be honest. No one likes revisiting shitty parts of their life. I feel like if I did, the dam in my head would burst apart and I’d never stop crying. This is easier. I do okay. I get decent marks. I try hard in school. My past experiences don’t take away from that.

Maybe if I move in with Nick, I’ll finally be able to move on. My parents won’t be breathing down my neck anymore and I’ll never have to see Hunter again if I don’t want to. 

I hear my dad’s footsteps approach again, but then they stop. He hovers. 

“I’m fine,” I say through gritted teeth after a moment of him watching me.

He doesn’t reply, but after a few seconds, walks away. I appreciate that he’s trying to be there for me, but this isn’t how to do it. The numb feeling takes over. It’s probably because I haven’t let myself blow up in a while. It’s been years. I feel like crying, but nothing comes out.