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When I glance up, Banner is eyeing my bag warily, so I lift it back on my shoulder and paste on a fake smile. I can tell he’s come to the same conclusion as me, his jaw clenched and eyes tight.
“Right, let’s go,” I force out cheerfully.
*** *** ***
The pub Banner takes us to is busy. A girl’s twenty-first birthday is getting rowdy, and more and more people keep turning up, even after her parents and other relatives leave.
I shift in my seat, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans, trying not to focus on those around us.
Banner sits up straighter, and I turn to find him watching me. He grimaces, his expression filled with apology.
“I’m sorry. I’ve come here plenty of times with Mum and Dad when they come up, and it’s never been busy. It’s not big enough to be busy.”
I wave him off. “It’s fine. I’ll deal. And I have to be in class soon anyway.”
More people file through the door, shouting their greetings to their friends, and I have to fight the urge to jump up from my seat and run out.
“No, it’s not. You’ve gone pale as a ghost and look like you’re about to vomit or pass out. I’m not sure which one is going to happen first,” Banner admits, lowering his voice a little.
“He’s right. Let’s skip dessert and get out of here,” Mark declares.
“But it’s my favourite part,” I whine. A small group of the party head our way, banging into our chairs and making it hard for me to breathe. “Yeah, I can go without dessert.”
I get up, trying to calm my breathing, and grab my bag from under the table.
“I’ll get her to class and pay you guys later. That okay?” I hear Banner ask, though it sounds fuzzy.
“You go ahead. Dinner is on us. Let us know when she calms down,” Levi comments.
Banner takes my hand, pulling me close to him as he maneuverers us out of the bar. As soon as the doors cancel out the sound from inside, I begin to relax, lifting my face up to the cold night air.
“So much better,” I gasp out.
“Did you want to catch a taxi or walk it?”
Taxi means less time with him. “Walk,” I reply, not caring that it’s freezing tonight.
“Can I ask you something?” he asks as he wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me against his chest.
“You can ask me anything.”
He gulps, not meeting my gaze, which makes me nervous. “Have you heard from your parents since you left?”
I don’t really like talking about my parents. They’ve always been a sore subject. Even before Lara died, they treated me differently. Lara was the planned baby. And I was the surprise baby they didn’t see coming, or even want, born eleven months after Lara.
From as long as I can remember, they’ve always reprimanded me for every little thing I did, whereas Lara could do no wrong. Lara was the wild child, always out with friends and getting into some sort of trouble. Me? I got good grades, was in by curfew, and never got into trouble. Yet, they still treated me like I was a nuisance.
“No, and I knew they wouldn’t contact me before I left. I was ready for it. In a way, I’m glad. I needed a break from them. I already feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I don’t feel as tense.”
He scrubs a hand over his face when we stop at a set of traffic lights, waiting for the little man to turn green.
“I just don’t get them. They have a great daughter, an amazing daughter, yet they treat you like this.” He pauses, before inhaling. “And not to sound insensitive, but you’d think after losing one child, they’d want to be closer to the one they do have.”
Even though it hurts to hear, it’s nothing I haven’t said to myself. “That’s my parents for you. I’m used to their behaviour, but after Lara died, it got worse. She was always the buffer between us. She would somehow always be able to steer their attention away from me with stories. She would tell them what she got up to, what she got in trouble for that day, or after school clubs she joined. They wouldn’t even shout at her.”
“They are pretty cold people. I’m sorry to bring it up. I was just hoping they would change their minds once you were gone, but then I saw the mail. It’s fucked up.”
I force a laugh. “Banner, I’ve been competing for my parents’ attention for years and never got it. I don’t know why I seek their approval or want them to love me the way they love—loved—Lara. After she died, I stopped caring. That part inside of me that held on to hope died the day of Lara’s funeral, when they wouldn’t let me wear Lara’s favourite dress.”