Knocking on the door, he waited for an answer. Someone had to be here, there were two cars in the driveway. He knocked again and then rang the doorbell; there were pounding of feet then the door swung open.
“Nick!”
“Hey Dad.”
“Hi, come on in.”
His Dad stepped aside to let him in. Nick looked around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Aaron or Angel.
“Is Aaron or Angel here?”
Bob shook his head, “No, they’re at the mall. Have a seat,” he motioned to the couch.
Nick cleared his throat, wondering what to say next, he’d always been really bad at small talk, something that even through out his years of interviewing, he’d never perfected.
“So, Dad, how are things going for you?”
“Oh wonderful Nick, just peachy,” Bob snapped suddenly.
Nick looked away, clearing his throat again. Maybe this had been a bad idea.
“Look Nick, I’m sorry…really. That was, that wasn’t fair,” Bob sighed, “I’m doing ok. It’s a little rough going, but it’s to be expected. How about you? How was your trip?”
“It was ok, tiring and I’m glad to be home, but necessary.”
“Did you get everything done?”
“Yeah, for the most part. Interviews and photo shoots, that kinda thing. I also did some work on my next album, talked with some producers and all. Everything’s looking good so far.”
Bob nodded, “That’s great Nick, glad to hear it. How’s the rest of the guys?”
Nick shrugged, “They’re alright. Haven’t spoken to them much, we’re supposed to be going to the VMA’s in a few weeks and I’ll see them then.”
“Oh, well tell them all I said hi, maybe sometime we can all meet.”
Nick smiled, the likeliness of that happening was slim to none, and he’d make sure of that. Not that the guys wouldn’t want to see him, well maybe that was some of it. Most of it was him though. His parents embarrassed Nick and he really didn’t want anyone to see them. Groaning inwardly, he rubbed at his head. He couldn’t believe he felt like that, but he did.
“Have you seen BJ or Leslie?”
“Yeah yesterday, well I saw BJ, Les was out.”
Bob snorted, “Yeah well, they don’t want to see me. Your Sisters don’t seem to want to talk to me. I can only imagine what your Mother is saying about me to them.”
“Dad…”
“I don’t need that you know? I’m their Father for God’s sake! I have the right to see them!”
“Dad please…”
“They’re taking your Mother’s side you know, Aaron and Angel are the only ones who don’t hate me.”
“I don’t hate you Dad, and neither does Beej or Les.” Nick whispered.
“Sure, you say that, but you don’t know. You don’t know what your Mother’s like Nick.”
No, actually he was probably one of the few people who did know exactly what his Mother was like.
“Dad, I’m sure Mom’s not saying anything bad about you.”
Bob waved him off, “You can’t be sure about that Nick, you can’t. You don’t live with them to know.”
He couldn’t handle this anymore, if it wasn’t his Mom, it was his Dad. He didn’t have to put up with it and he wouldn’t. This, this was the reason why he didn’t come around more often. Standing abruptly, he made his way to the door.
“Look Dad, I gotta go.”
“Why? So you can go over there and tell them what I said? Go ahead, I don’t care you hear me?”
Nick hurried out, slamming the door behind him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Slumping down on the couch, he grabbed a throw pillow and covered his face with it. Why did he bother? Why? It was always the same shit all the time and he was sick and tired of it. He couldn’t go over anymore, at least, not until everything died down. Screaming into the pillow, he pulled it from his face, throwing it angrily across the room, groaning when a small vase tipped and fell, hitting the side of the table it was on and shattering. Yeah, and it’d be his Brother and Sisters who’d pay. He’d find some way of hanging out with them still though. This wasn’t their fault.
Standing, he made his way over to his entertainment center, popping a CD in and turning the volume all the way up. Soon the guitar sounds of Nirvana filled the room, the vibrations rattling the house. He needed a distraction; he needed something so he wouldn’t have to hear his own thoughts. Heading into his room, he looked around for something to do, when he noticed an envelope sitting on his dresser.
Veronica’s letter.
Snatching it up, he pulled the letter out, reading it over again. He could write her back, give him something to focus on he supposed. Searching his room frantically, he found some paper an envelope and a pen, making his way downstairs and into the kitchen. Slumping down in one of the chairs, he began to write.
