personal blog: simon
Jacob’s text to the point, ‘7PM’, followed by an address. I didn’t even anticipate that I would be going alone. the thoughts of Kevin still heavy yet looking inside my closet my worthlessness and lack of self-esteem drape over me.
I skim through the hangers looking for that perfect outfit and I have to be perfect in it.
like an echo, my sister’s shout comes somewhere from the back of my head.
“you look ridiculous!” a shout of embarrassment and disapproval, like it mattered that I shaved my head, that my socks didn’t match, that I wore grey eyeliner or green nail polish. it wasn’t even a statement. I simply liked the colour… and for the shaved head. I grew tired of my hair.
I followed her through the aisles, attempting to catch her face, but she kept on evading, rushing through her grocery list.
“I have a kid now… important things to worry about, unlike your adolescent behaviours,” she argued.
“so, you asked me to meet you here because you don’t want to argue.” I rebutted with similar force of anger. I knew it was cowardly to discuss family matters at a grocery store, but she insisted at the place and time and I wasn’t surprised.
“you look ridiculous.” as if repeating it would have had an acute impact, and for a moment she took an account of my presence. “look.” she loudly sighed, “I don’t want to get between you and mom. okay?”
her grievance noted, “okay.”
“you look strange with no hair.” a glimpse of a grin as her tone softened.
“yeah.” my lips bonded to a smile. same old Gemma. always had to begin a conversation with a fight. but that was seven years ago.
family, a testament of patience, tolerance, and time. but my family wasn’t my family any longer. even the boys from the ‘house’, once family, now a fond memory. only Jacob remains.
I turn my phone back on and swivel through the letters. “see you soon,” confirming Gemma’s earlier lengthy text, which she ended with ‘Monday. Noon.’ like an ultimatum.
Jacob’s seven p.m. however sounded less insistent in my head and more like a warm invitation. an invitation I didn’t had to abide by but surely wouldn’t disregard.
all the clothes in my closet look dreadful and I pull out a white t-shirt, a safe bet, and khaki jeans. I never have had much sense of style. my father however would never leave the house without a blazer and a matching pair of pants. he assured that it said a lot about a man. polished shoes and a tie, or at least a well-pressed shirt buttoned up all the way to the top.
my brothers were a perfect example of that, especially on church day or holidays or family dinners.
I look at the t-shirt and maybe another iron press wouldn’t hurt. my closet pretty much consists of white, black, grey, and more black. a lifeless and dull assortment of attire, like my personality plain and boring.
my nerves begin to stack as I teeter at the idea of calling Kevin and abandoning Jacob and his invitation. as much as Kevin may be bothersome, he is familiar… and I don’t know Jacob like I used to… and whether he would still like me.
read more: ← saturday 16:39 ♦ saturday 20:15 →
© simon whittle — second act