quiet. The type of silence that makes you want to scream. I know deep down that it is my own insecurities caused from lying to him. I felt as though he was quiet because he was over thinking and figuring out my secrets in that gorgeous head of his. On the outside, I was staring out the window as if to take in the busy streets around me, the tall brightly lit signs that light up the Vegas strip. But inside, I was slowly dying for the third time today.
“What’s on your mind, Vice?” my voice, a pleasant sound to my ears cutting the silence.
“Contemplating on whether or not playing at Nostalgia will make Miller back the fuck off,” he sighed, staring at the red light ahead of us.
“I think you are doing the right thing by staying away from him,” my fingers fidgeted with the frayed jean of my skirt.
“I used to think so, too. But the more I refuse his invites, the more he is literally smothering me, Harlow,” The light turned green and he gassed it. “There has to be some kind of a breaking point,”
I nodded, turning my head to look back out the window at the passing buildings. A turning point, a turning point in which I am frightened. A turning point that involves my brother is never a good thing as ninety-nine percent of the time leads to something life altering.
The next hour seemed to fly by in slow motion. Vice barely ate the Chinese food we had ordered, and barely said three words during dinner. I could tell that this whole thing has occupied his mind and I had offered to leave a few times, but he then begged me to stay with a trillion apologies for his silence. As we sat at the dinner table, I searched my brain for the right words to say when Vice’s cell rang.
Without looking at the screen he answered it. “Yeah,”
I took our plates to the sink and could hear a female crying on the other end of the phone which caught my attention. I turned around quickly, Vice’s face was angry, and sad.
“I will be right there,” he sighed, ending the call then placing his phone back in his pocket.
“Who was that? Is everything, okay?” I asked, running my fingers through his hair.
“Not really,” he slowly shook his head, staring at the table. “Do you want to meet my mom?” he looked up at me.
I smiled. “I would love to meet your mom,”
I stood in the entry way waiting for Vice while he grabbed his check book, and his keys. Without asking, I knew why he was bringing his check book. He had told me that he takes care of his mom, monthly. I have never asked him why he has to take care of her as I am sure there could be a million reasons why. I know of very little bits and pieces, but I never pushed him much to tell me everything.
Within twenty minutes, we pulled up to an extremely run down trailer park on the opposite side of the city. Dirt instead of a street, stray cats and tumble weeds roaming the park, the trailers looking abandoned though they were occupied by families of all nations. The metal siding on the trailers coming loose, plastic and duct tape covering what were once windows. I was looking around when we pulled up to Vice’s mothers trailer. I was impressed that it was the nicest one out of all the trailers in the park. I was sure thanks to Vice, of course. The siding looked new, so were the windows. She actually had a lush green lawn, and a row of flowers lining the wooden steps to the wooden deck and front door.
“This is nice,” I grabbed Vice’s hand as we walked toward his mothers trailer.
“I try to have a little bit here and there done for her, make things nicer,” he squeezed my hand tightly then suddenly stopped walking, pulling me back. “Harlow,”
“What’s up?” He looked incredibly uncomfortable, running his free hand through his hair with a huff.
“I am going to apologize before hand for my mom,” he grabbed my other hand.
“If you aren’t ready for me to meet her yet, Vice it’s okay, I understand. I will wait in the car if you want me to,” I
“What’s on your mind, Vice?” my voice, a pleasant sound to my ears cutting the silence.
“Contemplating on whether or not playing at Nostalgia will make Miller back the fuck off,” he sighed, staring at the red light ahead of us.
“I think you are doing the right thing by staying away from him,” my fingers fidgeted with the frayed jean of my skirt.
“I used to think so, too. But the more I refuse his invites, the more he is literally smothering me, Harlow,” The light turned green and he gassed it. “There has to be some kind of a breaking point,”
I nodded, turning my head to look back out the window at the passing buildings. A turning point, a turning point in which I am frightened. A turning point that involves my brother is never a good thing as ninety-nine percent of the time leads to something life altering.
The next hour seemed to fly by in slow motion. Vice barely ate the Chinese food we had ordered, and barely said three words during dinner. I could tell that this whole thing has occupied his mind and I had offered to leave a few times, but he then begged me to stay with a trillion apologies for his silence. As we sat at the dinner table, I searched my brain for the right words to say when Vice’s cell rang.
Without looking at the screen he answered it. “Yeah,”
I took our plates to the sink and could hear a female crying on the other end of the phone which caught my attention. I turned around quickly, Vice’s face was angry, and sad.
“I will be right there,” he sighed, ending the call then placing his phone back in his pocket.
“Who was that? Is everything, okay?” I asked, running my fingers through his hair.
“Not really,” he slowly shook his head, staring at the table. “Do you want to meet my mom?” he looked up at me.
I smiled. “I would love to meet your mom,”
I stood in the entry way waiting for Vice while he grabbed his check book, and his keys. Without asking, I knew why he was bringing his check book. He had told me that he takes care of his mom, monthly. I have never asked him why he has to take care of her as I am sure there could be a million reasons why. I know of very little bits and pieces, but I never pushed him much to tell me everything.
Within twenty minutes, we pulled up to an extremely run down trailer park on the opposite side of the city. Dirt instead of a street, stray cats and tumble weeds roaming the park, the trailers looking abandoned though they were occupied by families of all nations. The metal siding on the trailers coming loose, plastic and duct tape covering what were once windows. I was looking around when we pulled up to Vice’s mothers trailer. I was impressed that it was the nicest one out of all the trailers in the park. I was sure thanks to Vice, of course. The siding looked new, so were the windows. She actually had a lush green lawn, and a row of flowers lining the wooden steps to the wooden deck and front door.
“This is nice,” I grabbed Vice’s hand as we walked toward his mothers trailer.
“I try to have a little bit here and there done for her, make things nicer,” he squeezed my hand tightly then suddenly stopped walking, pulling me back. “Harlow,”
“What’s up?” He looked incredibly uncomfortable, running his free hand through his hair with a huff.
“I am going to apologize before hand for my mom,” he grabbed my other hand.
“If you aren’t ready for me to meet her yet, Vice it’s okay, I understand. I will wait in the car if you want me to,” I
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