Celebrity Status [The Yearlings]

Tension was started to brew up, and I never liked when we had to fight. I wish we were just a normal, happy family, but that will never happen. Aibrean was still gripping onto her flowers, and I couldn't help but laugh a little inside, because she looked tempted to give me one, but at the same time, holding the temptation back. The door creaked open, and the figure that stepped in was Gus. Me and Gus were never close in anyway, but I liked him more then some of the others. Hushed tones were exchanged with Ary and Gus, since they were pretty much brother and sister. Everyone was seated at the table, and just when I thought that everything was calm, and we could have a normal dinner, January has to start blabbing his mouth. "Lets just say this October, I've had worse. And I'm pretty sure we all have. At least the ones with legal jobs. The others are usually the same, and I'm sure we all have had better days too." He answered the question I threw at everyone, but with one of the worst responses he could. Tears were running down Ary's face as the word came out of January's mouth, and I knew instantly, that all hell was going to break loose, and knowing most of the people in the room well, maybe a bloodbath would occur.

Ary started to talked about how the little ones shouldn't know about this. Well, I am considered a "little one", and I know everything about who has legally got a job, and who bums around the streets to meet days end. Before I could bring up anything about the subject, Ary tried to switch the subject.
"Eat up guys, lets not let this great meal go cold! Marc and Toby worked hard to get it for us so lets enjoy." A grin crossed my face when Ary called me Toby. The only person who really ever called me that was Abby, and sometimes December. I was still frustrated at what January said, and I honestly though he didn't really have room to talk, since the people in the house who didn't have legal jobs brought the meal in front of him. I didn't want to push the argument farther than it already was, so I slapped some of the meat into my mouth, taking in all the juices of it. This meat is so... divine... I will never have a meal like this again Everything was calm and cool, and I was praying that what January said would be put to side. The quietness was broken when Gus spoke up, arguing against January about how we all have equal jobs, and we all bring in our fair share of money. Gus stormed up the stairs, not even touching the food in front of him, or even taking it with him.

Now a headache was starting to develop in my head, and my stomach was turning. We haven't had such a big fight in such a long time, and I was to the point of tears, because our family was starting to tear apart. I took a deep gulp, and pushed the platter in front of me to my side, and I looked at Abby. She can see that I was about to start crying, so I whispered to her. "I'm going to my room... If I start crying.. Please come and check on me" My body lifted itself up, and I took a long glare at January. "You know, the people with no legal jobs provided this meal for you today, so I don't really think you deserve to eat it." My eyes looked over to Ary. I didn't want to be rude like Gus and just storm off to my room, and I didn't want to cry in front of everyone. I only cried in front of Aibrean, because she understands when I cry. "I'm excusing myself from this meal, Ary, I hope you don't mind." With that, I walked over to the stairs, taking one look at Abby, praying she would come upstairs with me. I managed to drag myself up the stairs before the waterworks kicked in, and I rushed to my room, slamming the door behind me. Why can't my family just be NORMAL? Why do we have to argue about every single GOD DAMN THING!

•••doing
•••talking
•••thinking

Gus's words spew out, the harsh sounds splitting the calm silence surrounding our dinner and I just sit there staring at both boys my mouth open and slack, watching in shock as Gus blows up and January as well. All of this, over the fact January couldn't tell me in private (once again) that he wanted to do more for them. Like I don't want to do more either, like I enjoy standing out there waiting for some sicko to pick me. I want the best for these kids as much as he does why else would I put myself through this. I can see the anger rising as the blood fills his face and I know its going to end up bad. I want to grab his hand and hold him back as he stands and slams the chair. My body aches to ease this tension as my heart shatters watching Gus storm up the stairs. Why are they always at each others throats over this, its not their choice to do it, its mine and mine alone. I am the one who decided to start doing this to help out, its the only thing I can do when I'm spending the days watching the kids. I hardly finished school beacause of the responsibility I took on.

Fighting the urge to run off after Gus, I watch the stairs instead. I know that if I do its just going to make things worse. So I sit there staring at them hoping that both boys stay put. I watch January stand and yell and the young ones run and cower. I put my eyes on the table fighting back the need to start yelling back at everyone. I can't understand how these boys think that this is okay in front of December who hardly says a word to begin with, or Bre who can't stand to have a harsh word hit her ears. Biting hard on my lip I whisper, "January. Stop." My eyes are even more full of tears than I want the kids to see, but I can't deal with that right now. I need to calm him down. I don't want this to end up in a blood bath.

Standing up I walk over and put my hands on January's shoulders. "Please let it go, you know how he is when I'm involved." January and Gus hated each other, most the time they couldn't even look at each other, but they both for some reason put me first, and to see either one of them hurt me was like a dagger to the face to the other. The feelings of being stuck between them was like being slowly crushed to death. I loved them both, in such different way and I didn't want to have to pick. Why couldn't they just see how flawed I am and let me go. Why couldn't they just see how awful I am.

Wrapping my arms around his neck I press my lips to his cheek. "Calm down. I will talk to them. All of them." my tears were the reason this blew up, I need to be the one to fix it. "It'll be okay I promise. Just enjoy dinner, try to make sure the others eat. Please." His eyes tell me he's starting to relax and that he knows I have to do this. He's going to expect me to stay with him tonight to show that we're back on the same page, and that the fight has blown over, but I told Gus I'd stay with him after his tear stained entrance this evening. How am I supposed to fix that. I guess I'll just flip a coin, I'm always in the middle with these two. Maybe if I'm lucky I can use December as a reason to stay in the younger girls room and not have to make a choice.

Unwinding myself from January's shoulders I give him on more quick peck and a glace to let him know he needs to stay down here. I am so stupid...so stupid I keep telling myself as I head up the stairs. I take a deep breath as I step up to the top landing. I'm so damn sick of this, sick of Gus's frustration and January's attitude, sick of Marc's captain pissy pants routine and December's fear of even coming out from the shadows. Sick of Abrien's cluelessness and Julyan's idolization of January. I wonder what they would do if I just threw myself backwards down the stairs. What if I wasn't here to hold us all together. They'd give up. Thats what they'd do.

I could have been better, if I had tried.

There was so much more to me than they could realize. I want to brave it out and let them see the scars. To let them know I’d felt hands on me, and seen death first hand. That I waited in colder nights praying for food, for anything. It would be so easy, if I could just find the right moment. Yet every time I felt them within reach, it seemed as though something pulled me back again. December would disappear into her little cocoon, Gus would fly off the handle, October would bumble along, February would hide herself away, and the rest would slink away. They would always be just out of reach, wandering off in their own directions. It was like herding cats, I liked to say.

More than anyone I just want them to be all right. I want them to get through this, to grow up, and to grow up happy.

I hear a familiar voice chime in to support me. Julyan. Poor, deluded, dutiful Julyan. He wanted so much to belong, to be a part of the things that I was a part of—I knew that I could count on him. I was glad that I’d found him when I did. He was one who could have very easily fallen into a bad crowd, I thought. The kid was willing to run extra miles for me if I asked him, the good little soldier he was. I shook my head, the sneer disappearing from my face and turning to one of general amusement.

Even in the moments that felt like s—t, there was always a leveling off. Things couldn’t be terrible forever, and people didn’t stay angry forever. I swallowed down the rest of my meat and wiped the grease off my face.

I wasn’t about to go into battle without something in my stomach. I stare over at Julyan and nodded again, this time motioning to the plates on the table. “Would you make sure this gets put away? Make sure to put it away so that it keeps—there are some salts you can use if you want to do it that way. And make sure September finishes her food, okay?” I set out these orders before rising from the table and making my way towards the flight of stairs, but not before wrapping up a bit of apple in a napkin.

To have time in the sun, there needed to be sunlight. I needed to give them what they needed, and what we needed was more than the food that sat uneaten on the table before me. Sure, we could have used the security of knowing that there would always be meals like this. But more than that, they needed the dependability of a father—a leader—who didn’t sway back and forth in anger. I wasn’t about to become a man who flew off the handle when things got tough. I would never raise my fist in anger. I would not turn to destroying these children any more than they already were. That was something I could pledge not to do.

It’s a funny thing. The steps feel a lot longer at the bottom looking up to the top then. The darkness in the hall seems to envelope me as I look upward. February had already made her way upstairs to comfort him—perhaps the others, too. She was so good to all of them that way. She never gave more than when it was for someone else. I had to stop using her that way—she played the good woman to my peacekeeper, the light to my dark. I have to make sure that the weight wasn’t breaking her back. I know that there was only so much you could take before it all is too much. She has to be tired by now of them pushing and pulling her every which way.

The middle step shifts as I stumble a bit, and catch myself along the wall. I have to make sure to fix that—another thing in the litany of what needed to be fixed in this house. Trudging along to the top of the step I can hear their voices and feel myself steel. There was the gentleness of Ary. She’s a goddess when she speaks, when she moves, h—l, when she smiles. She’s got a way of making it all blur together for me in a way I’ve never felt about anyone else. There is a genuine concern for Gus, despite his behavior. Already I’m at the top of the stairs and at the door, peering into the scene taking place.

The kiss atop his head is an innocent thing, but it burns me. I know she’s doing it to be sweet, but we both know that Gus sees it a different way. That he sees her as something else—there is something more there than their genuine companionship. And I feel my pressure rise some as I stare at the back of his fat head, his f—king disrespectful little d—ned head. While I have come to make peace, I know that the only way to do so is to destroy the other side—to make him want a ceasefire. And a smirk runs across my face as I crack open the door.

My arms wrap around February as I take a seat at the end of Gus’s bed, settling in to squeeze her tight and affectionately. I stare over at Gus as if to say—mine, this is mine—while I position myself on the end of the bed. My face is serious, but I don’t raise my voice to speak to him. I know he’s likely to explode under the right conditions. Death by a thousand cuts was a better style of dealing with him.

“That was a show you put on down there,” I say, taking out the napkin and unwrapping it. I move it forward as a peace offering.

“You mind telling me what you thought that was all about? Everyone left dinner after you went off like that Gus.” But I don’t stop there, not wanting him to press the point of who was at fault. No, I would sidestep that in favor of a different tactic.

“February your dinner was ruined after that—now, I know people say things, but you have to remember. Now I know that maybe some of us spoke too soon, maybe without thinking, but we can’t act like children. Not when people are so sensitive around here. Don’t you agree, February?” I say, brushing my arm down along her thigh with a grin. I leave my palm open with the treat, waiting for Gus to take what I’m presenting.

What other choice did he have?