This guy had better be on his death bed. I lean my head against the tinted window of our van, the kind pedophiles drive, and stare at the small raindrops running down the glass. It’s cold, and when I pull my head away, the chill lingers, and runs down my spine. But I’m burning with anger.
‘Derek, how long are we staying in P.E.I for?’ My voice shatters the silence. I hear a sigh in response come from my older brother, sitting in the driver’s seat.
‘Coral I already told you twice. We’re there for two weeks.’ His voice is firm, and unwavering.
‘Two weeks,’ I mumble in response. A wave of anger crashes over me, and I find myself yelling and swearing at him, before I even know what’s going on.
‘Why the f**k are we even going to see dad? He never had time for me! Hell while we’re at it, he never had time for you, either! Why does he expect that everyone’s going to just drop what they’re doing and put their lives on hold for him?!’
The yelling continues at a thousand words a second, until I'm out of breath, light-headed, and almost in tears. I look up at him in the rear-view mirror, but he keeps his eyes fastened to the road. He opens his mouth to respond, but I'm jolted back to my bitter reality when Derek slams on the breaks. I crash against the back of the seat in front of me. It all happens so fast, that I don’t even have time to think. I look up after the van stops moving, and watch Derek throw up his hand and flip off the white Lexus in front of us.
‘A*****e,’ he grumbles to the driver as he drags the van around the new Lexus. He takes off down the highway, doing one-forty in the hundred zone. I drag myself back into the seat, close my eyes, and shut up. I know better than to annoy him when he’s like this. I desperately wish that somebody, hell, anybody, would call and tell him to take us back to Toronto, back to my life. The one that I’d worked so hard to build up with an older brother and a part-time mom. I think of my mother, and how crushed she was when dad left. How she cried herself to sleep for two years, every night. Derek and I would always urge her to meet someone new, and settle down. She tried, but everyone knew she didn’t want to re-marry. The most she got was a week of casual dating. She drowned herself in alcohol for the first year and a half. Derek helped her through it, and I did my best, dropping out of school and working multiple jobs to help support her when she got fired from hers. I still wish there was something I could do. Why are we going to see dad? He did nothing to help us. he was the cause of all this.
He'd better be dying right now.
The calming hum of the van makes my limbs feel heavy, and my thoughts cloudy. The silence is thick, and the heater leaks uneven bursts of warm air. I hear Derek’s phone buzz for a few seconds, then stop.
‘Mom just texted us. She’s meeting us at the hospital,’ Derek says softly. But I don’t want to talk, so I keep my eyes closed, and stay silent. ‘You sleeping?’ I still don’t answer.
Time passes slowly, or maybe quickly? I have no idea. All I know is that the movement of the van over the rough highway, and the buzz of the heater is pulling me into a deep sleep, my eyes dance around, not focusing on anything in particular, and very soon, I'm out cold.
I rub my eyes, but I still can’t see. Wherever we are it’s pitch black, and freezing. I move the seven ton blankets off of me, leaving my shoulders exposed to the cold. I look over at the red flashing alarm clock next to me. I'm in a hotel? I hang my feet off the side of the bed, and slide out. I feel my way around in the dark, until I get to a T.V stand. I keep walking, slamming my knee against a small table, and stifle a grunt.
There, the curtains.
I pull them open and bright moonlight spills over me and illuminates the room. I turn around to see two beds, one mine, and the other Derek’s. I look back out the window, and see the moon, huge and full, the streetlights against the clear starry sky. Trees blow in the breeze, and I see the last bulb burn out on the crumbling sign for our s****y motel.