Read Online The Way Back from Broken by Amber J. Keyser - Free Book Online Page B

respond. “I get it,” Rakmen continued. “I’m such a big disappointment to you that you won’t even look at me.” He pushed himself to a sitting position, ignoring the screams of his injuries, welcoming the stab in his chest. Level eight. It was what he deserved.
    â€œThis isn’t about you,” said his mom.
    â€œThat guy totally had it coming to him. Complete jerk-off.” Now his mom wasn’t looking at him either. She stared at her hands, limp in her lap. Rakmen sensed that he might have misread the stakes of the situation. Badly.
    â€œSo I’m grounded, right? For like the rest of my life. Fine.” His dad cleared his throat, but Rakmen cut him off. “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have gotten in a fight.” His mom started to cry. The space between his dad in the chair and his mom on the bed seemed vast and unbridgeable. He knew, suddenly, that they weren’t here to talk about the fight.
    His dad cleared his throat again. “What we’re trying to say is that things aren’t going very well for us.”
    Rakmen tried to disappear into the rumbling sounds of the evening commute outside. Desperation settled over the room like poison gas. Since Dora died, they’d faked everything. A united front. Stiff upper lips. Acting normal. Barbecues. They’d tiptoed around like everyone was made of glass. The fatal mistake was expecting things to get better.
    His mother wiped away her tears and spoke to her hands. “Your dad and I have processed your sister’s passing in very different ways.”
    â€œSo that’s it?” Rakmen said. “You’re getting divorced without even trying?”
    His mom’s head snapped up. “I didn’t say divorce.”
    â€œBut that’s what you are saying, isn’t it? Enough with the therapy talk.”
    â€œYou will stop, son,” said his dad, finally meeting his eyes. “Stop with the drama like this is all about you. We’re not getting divorced—”
    The yet dangled in the air between them.
    â€œBut we do need some time to refocus our marriage,” his mom finished.
    Rakmen imagined that he could hear the shattering of glass as things fell apart. Death. Divorce. They were fighting words, permanent words. And he was mad again, ready to punch someone in the face even if it meant getting the shit kicked out of him again. He spread his arms toward his parents in a gesture that said be my guest. They could knock themselves out trying to fix what was broken.
    â€œRight now,” said his dad, “we’re very focused on you, your grades, and now this.” He gestured at Rakmen’s black eyes. “Fighting. You don’t have a job lined up or any activities this summer. It’s not a recipe for success.”
    â€œI’m not a cake mix,” Rakmen muttered.
    â€œWe need some space to work on our issues,” said his mom, “and we think you need a change of scene. Away from the memories.”
    Rakmen was rocking back and forth in the bed the way he’d been rocking Dora to sleep the night she died. He hadn’t noticed her breathing change until it was too late. And then there was screaming and his dad wrenching her from his arms and the way he could remember the pattern on the rug in that room exactly.
    â€œYou’re sending me away,” he said.
    â€œIt’s a great opportunity for new experiences.” The false cheer in his mom’s voice slid down his spine like ice water. “Leah said she spent all her summers at the lake cabin when she was a kid and loved it.”
    Of course, they were sending him away. He was the left-behind reminder of what they had lost. They would be better off without him.
    â€œYou can swim and fish,” his dad added.
    â€œI don’t know how to fish,” said Rakmen, then the exact meaning of what they were saying fell into place and he nearly choked. “You want