Four Years

Summer: House, Pt 2

Amy stared through the passenger window of Izzy's car, bemused. "I still can't believe you pulled that off," she announced to the passing corn field, for the sixth time.

She expected Izzy to laugh or sigh, but there was no response. Curious, Amy shifted towards him. His brow was deeply furrowed, and his hand was wrapped tight around the steering wheel. Unable to stomach the silence, Amy prompted, "Izzy?"

His eyes left the road just long enough to glance into hers. In her gut, Amy knew why he looked so serious, so bothered, but her mind didn't want to acknowledge that instinct.

Then, Izzy was staring at the road again. "Forgive me. I don't mean to insult you, but... You do know how bad that was, right?"

"It was worse than usual." A sad smile creased her lips, flaky, unconvincing. "Maybe they saved it up since Christmas."

Izzy cleared his throat, but didn't speak. Unnerved, Amy turned on the radio, trying to scratch away the itching silence. Izzy had it set to AM, and the talking picked at her nerves. She fussed with the buttons, searching for music.

"Was it really worse," Izzy murmured, "or did you forget how bad it was after time away?"

Her hand jerked, and she accidentally set the radio to AM again. "Izzy- I grew up there."

"That's my point. My fear is that, to you, that environment is normal."

At last, Amy found a comforting song that she loved as a kid. She turned it up, but not so loud as to interrupt the conversation, although she longed to do just that. Her defensiveness and discomfort were distressingly high, but... How could she lash out at the person who removed her from that situation? Amy knew that Izzy was pushing a difficult conversation for the same reason that he offered her his home for the last two weeks of summer:

Because he cared about her.

Slowly, Amy released a long breath. She placed her hand on Izzy's knee, hoping to communicate that she wasn't angry at him. He swapped hands on the steering wheel to hold hers.

"I know it's bad," Amy murmured. "I've always known. I was in and out of Tai and Kari's house all the time growing up, and Matt's, too. When she still lived here, I went to Mimi's. Their houses never... felt like mine."

Izzy's grip on her hand tightened. "They seemed to favor your brother."

Amy sighed and turned her attention to the window. Until now, she didn't know that the suburb she grew up in yielded to a rural area only forty minutes away. It made her realize that her world was even smaller than she thought.

"Yeah. My father wanted sons. He favors Jesse, but... He also pays a lot more attention to him, and pressures him to do things that he likes- that Eamon likes, I mean. I might be better off ignored, in comparison."

Amy felt the weight of Izzy's long pause, the significance of it. "Your mother favors your brother, too."

She almost wished that Izzy's statement upset her. Her resigned acceptance was somehow so much worse. "Maybe… I think she's mostly humoring her husband. She complains about him nonstop, but she usually sides with him. Maybe it's so he won't switch to targeting her... Or maybe it's to placate him, so he won't throw tantrums."

Izzy's crisp tone went strangled, nasal. "Tantrums? He's an adult."

Amy snorted. "He's shaped like an adult. If you don't play along with him, no matter how ridiculous he's being, he'll spend the next week needling you every time he sees you, or break something of yours and punish you for being upset, or lie about you to other people."

"That's why you obeyed him..." Even over the music, Amy heard Izzy swallow. She was almost too nervous to look at him, but she couldn't resist. His mouth was set in a grim line, but his eyes were what stood out: hard, narrowed, but visibly wet.

Amy hugged herself around the middle, aching for comfort. "I guess. I don't think it's always conscious? It's been nineteen years of trying to just... stay off his radar. That's the priority."

"Alright," Izzy said. Suddenly, his voice was more flat and monotone than ever. "Alright. Conclusion: your father is a bastard. But your mother… You seem to have a better relationship with her."

"Oh..." Amy began twirling a section of long hair through her fingers. Discussing Eamon was straight-forward, without nuance. But her mother… That was much more complicated.

"Yeah… I do. She takes care of my brother and me- cooking, cleaning, trying to help us do well in school. But somehow, that makes it harder? I know my father isn't worth listening to, but my mom… She loves me, but she always sides with her husband, because it's easier than defending me. So… I can't say our relationship is good."

And, try as she might, there was an aspect here that Amy couldn't articulate. Frances met the physical needs of her family, and was focused on providing her children with the tools required to thrive in future careers. But emotional and spiritual needs were Amy's responsibility- which was a lot to ask of a child. As she grew older, Amy saw the toll taking care of everything took on Frances, who was essentially a single mother receiving financial child support- except that she also had to take care of an adult more immature than her children. Likely, getting through each day at work and at home devoured everything Frances had, leaving no energy for anything beyond physical, practical concerns.

Amy understood why things were the way they were… But that didn't make it hurt less, didn't generate the warmth and closeness she had longed for as a child, and found outside of her home in Tai, Matt, TK, Kari, and Mimi.

"I see," Izzy said softly. "May I ask why Frances is so interested in Mimi, Tai, and Matt?"

Amy hesitated, struggling to shift focus from thoughts she didn't know how to share to Izzy's question. Her voice dipped so much in volume that she barely heard herself. "Mimi... Mimi's beautiful."

After a long pause, Izzy said, "Acknowledged. But that's hardly an explanation."

Suddenly, both of Amy's hands were in her hair, fingers running furrows through it, like the fields beyond the road. "My father wanted sons. I think my mom was happy with a daughter... Until she grew up plain."

This time, it was Izzy grabbing her knee, and squeezing hard. "You're lovely."

"Thanks," Amy sighed. "But I'm not Mimi."

Amy watched her skin redden beneath Izzy's hold. "You're not supposed to be Mimi. You're supposed to be you."

Amy held her hands up, finally agitated beyond restraint. "I know that! I'm just trying to tell you, I think... I think my parents have other ideas for what their daughter should be like."

Izzy released her and rubbed his forehead. "I'm almost afraid to ask..."

"Beautiful," Amy replied, saving him the trouble. "Sunny, vivacious, social, fashionable. Ah- but still obedient and bringing home good grades."

Izzy's laugh was so cuttingly dry that Amy managed a tiny smile. "Of course," he drawled. "Not asking for much, are they." He turned to her just long enough to grin. "Can you imagine anyone talking to Mimi the way your father talks to you? She'd destroy him."

"He wouldn't. He finds other ways to be gross, though."

A muscle in Izzy's jaw tightened, suggesting the continuation of the trend: he very much didn't want to ask. Still, he managed a weak, "Oh?"

Amy's upper lip curled back. "In Mimi's case, lots of compliments and staring. Off-color comments that are... You know they're gross, but if you say something, he can defend himself."

Izzy jerked towards her, eyes wide, then back to the road, like a tennis match spectator. "But- Mimi would have been in high school. A minor. The same age as his daughter."

"I know," Amy said, feeling greasy inside. She loved Izzy, and was intensely grateful for the rescue... but she longed to be somewhere far away, where this conversation wasn't happening. Izzy was assembling pieces into a whole. Even without access to his thoughts, Amy knew he was doing it, knew that was how he approached the world.

The questions she really didn't want to answer would soon come.

"What about Tai and Matt?"

Was Izzy really letting that dangerous line of inquiry go? Relieved, Amy offered the info almost cheerfully. "Tai is good-looking, popular, and athletic. My father loves sports and favors athletes, even though..."

"He looks about as athletic as a sack of potatoes," Izzy supplied. A shocked giggle slid out of Amy, along with a snort.

"Right. And as for Matt..."

"He's handsome?" Izzy guessed. "Popular with girls. In a band. Local celebrity... And, apparently, your mother's choice for your boyfriend."

Amy's head hit her seat's headrest with a thud. "Ugghhhhh," she groaned. "Matt's house is in walking distance of mine. I had an open invitation to visit whenever. I used it... a lot."

"I can't imagine why."

"Ha, ha. Matt's dad works all the time, so Matt... He was usually alone. I told Mom I visited so much because of that, not because I liked him romantically. Sometimes, Tai and I would get off the bus with him and help him cook- well, I helped cook- and just... keep him company. And when TK visited, I wanted to see him."

Izzy blinked. "What do you mean, TK visited?"

"Oh... I guess it never came up? Matt's parents are divorced. He lives with his dad, TK lives with his mom, who lives about twenty minutes away from my neighborhood."

Those heavy eyebrows bounced. "I see. I've learned a lot more today than I expected to."

Amy grinned weakly. "Sorry about that."

He paused and tipped his head. "How does Eamon treat your other cousin?"

"Hmm…" How could Amy summarize with Kari? She was easy to understand in the sense that she always wanted to be helpful, and to avoid burdening anyone. But to achieve that, Kari was intensely private, keeping any negative thought, emotion, or experience to herself. Easy to understand, difficult to know.

"Kari has a talent for staying off my parents' radar," Amy hazarded at last.

"A valuable skill. But now that I think of it, I haven't seen her much, either. TK visits much more often."

"That's true," Amy sighed. "Tai goes home sometimes to visit, but if Matt goes home, no one will be there. That's why TK comes to him. You'd like Kari; she's sweet and considerate, easy to get along with. If she doesn't like someone, she's quiet and reserved around them, so even though she's so cute, I don't think my parents are particularly interested in her."

"Your parents didn't mention TK, either. I suppose he isn't as traditionally handsome as his brother. Or, at least, he doesn't put as much effort into his appearance."

"TK's cute as a button! But conventionally, yeah, Matt's better looking. And my father thinks I'm strange; TK has me beat there. I think he's well-liked at school, but isn't involved in many clubs or activities... Which tends to be what my father is interested in."

Izzy drew a long, shaking breath. Amy winced, wondering what potential topic warranted such preamble. "If you don't want to discuss this, just say the word. But… Eamon mentioned your ex. Why would he casually bring up someone who hurt you so?"

Ah. Her face settled into a frozen mask. She wasn't sure if she wanted to suppress her feelings, or if she was simply too exhausted to show them anymore. "Remember how I said I called Matt on… on prom night? And not my parents?"

Izzy's hand rose from her knee and made a beckoning motion. Amy slid her fingers between his, and he tugged their entwined hands onto his lap. "Yes."

"My parents know I broke up with him after prom. I never… really got into why."

The car jerked, swaying on the one-lane back road. Izzy released her long enough to correct course, then seized her hand, hard. "They don't- They don't know- But surely, they noticed a difference in your behavior afterward?"

"They did," Amy agreed- and realized that exhaustion was, in fact, the culprit behind her bland delivery. "They attributed it to the breakup."

"But- But they don't know what, what- What happened?"

She stiffened, but reminded herself that Izzy wasn't scolding her. He was trying to understand, and while Amy had no energy left to help him… She still wanted to try. "It would have done more harm than good. If I told them I had sex, I would have been scolded, punished, and restricted around boys. If I told them I was… A victim in any way, my mom would have freaked out and kept me at home more, maybe even banned me from living on campus in college. I told them we broke up during prom, and I went home with Tai. My father complained for weeks about the breakup, as it was."

Although Amy was blankly staring through the passenger window, she felt Izzy jerk through their connected hands. "Complained- why? It was your relationship, not his."

Her eyes rolled in the ghostly reflection on the glass. "He can't see past his nose. It didn't matter that his daughter left a relationship feeling bad; it mattered that he was put out. He loved Jerry. Popular, athletic, good-looking, tall, funny... He loved his stories about high school, and Jerry stroked his ego. I had to listen to my father point out that I couldn't do better than Jerry, and that I should try to patch things up for… For a long time."

Although he was seated, Izzy's breathing was suddenly loud, almost strenuous. "It's your right to decide whom to trust with what information," he said at last. "But, even if Eamon didn't know everything about the break-up, by your own admission, he knows it hurt you. Yet, he still goes out of his way to bring your ex up- when meeting your new boyfriend, no less."

What was she supposed to say? An unfortunate nineteen years of living with Eamon provided insight to guess that he was either:

1.) Reminiscing about a boyfriend who sucked up to and entertained him far more than Izzy did

2.) Specifically aiming to hurt her

3.) Hoping to cause strife between Izzy and Amy, or

4.) Just taking an easy, cheap shot

Did his intentions really matter? An ass is an ass is an ass. "He sucks," Amy concluded, shrugging at the cows they zipped past.

Izzy's dark chuckle quickly faded. "And he's racist. I trust that isn't limited to Japanese people."

A spark lit, rousing Amy from her stupor. "I was so mad. How dare they badmouth Sora! But- it's my own fault. As soon as I said her name, I knew what would happen."

"You should be able to talk about your friends," Izzy said gently. "You should be able to speak to your family without thinking ahead and wondering if what you say will be weaponized."

Suddenly tired and surly, Amy muttered, "Yeah, well- I can't."

Izzy rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. "I'm sorry. My intention wasn't- I, I must admit that I'm still reeling. And, now that it's over, I realize that I should have done more, said more. I just- I was so stunned, I…"

Amy took a deep breath, filling her lungs to capacity from the diaphragm, then releasing. She oriented herself towards Izzy and noticed the deep furrows on his brow. Her sullen defensiveness drained. "Izzy, no. You got me out of there- that's the best thing you could have done. And, trust me, I'm glad you don't know how to behave around someone like my father. I'm glad you're not used to it."

He glanced at her, and Amy offered the best smile she could manage. His mouth curled up at the edges, a faint nudge that only drew attention to his glazed eyes. Suddenly, Amy realized that he was every bit as exhausted as she was. "Even after all that, I still have a million questions," he sighed. "But we're almost home."

Thank goodness. Although Amy was relieved, a sudden wave of nerves hit. "I hope your parents like me..."

"They will," Izzy said gently. "I told you, they already do. And even if they didn't... You're thoroughly likable."

Her stiff smile warmed. "Thanks for everything, Izzy. Really."

"Leaving you there wasn't an option. Not when I have a car and a safe place for you."

Amy blinked and tipped her head. "I hear you, but isn't 'safe' a little much?"

Izzy seemed like a safe driver, the type to reliably watch the road. But his sudden, intense concentration on the view through the windshield was a bit unnerving. "Amy- I'm sorry- I, I have to ask. You were never... nothing physical happened to you?"

A few beats passed before his meaning penetrated. Amy wanted to be offended, or at least affronted, but... She couldn't. How could she be? She knew the question was reasonable, and that he was working his way here over the last few exchanges. Still, she felt hollow, numb.

"Not physical," she said. "No one ever struck me, or…"

She knew damned well what Izzy was hinting at. But she had never spoken about this before, and wasn't sure how to. "Nothing physical," she repeated. "He, he made comments about my… About me being… Developed. I also saw his porn by accident growing up."

"Amy." She flinched, nerves shot, alarmed by the conversation, by everything. She couldn't handle the rawness, the pain and sorrow, infused into three letters. "I'm sorry, I- Can you elaborate?"

Amy wanted to be composed, but she couldn't look at him, at the road, at anything. She cupped her face in both hands and murmured, "I hit puberty early. I was curvy in middle school. He commented on it- Like I said, nothing direct enough to get him in trouble if called on it, but I knew- Anyone would know-"

The waver in her voice made her come to an abrupt stop. She heard Izzy swallow, and then his hand was on her knee. "I'm sorry." It didn't seem like much, but what else could he say, really?

"Are you alright? You mentioned pornography."

And, somehow, Amy found herself laughing into cupped hands, wetting them with a surprised snort. Of course- this was Izzy. There was always a question to ask- or a million.

Amy rubbed her palms on her shorts to dry them and placed her head against the window, hoping the cool glass would ease the ache there. "He left websites open. Taped over cartoons I recorded from the TV, so that when I went to watch them- I saw porn well before the sex ed class at school."

In the long, painful pause that followed, Amy fought the urge to crank up the radio. Her hand twitched towards it, and the movement seemed to knock Izzy back into functioning order. She was well aware that she hadn't answered his question, and she hoped he wouldn't push it.

"I... didn't know any of this," he said.

"No one does," Amy said grimly, flipping through the channels. "Well, besides Eamon. My mom, if she hasn't forgotten."

"Not Tai?"

Amy shrugged. "What would telling him achieve?"

Izzy flashed a grin, but it was all pain. Amy turned away, unable to take it. "Well, I admit that watching Tai deck your father would be cathartic."

Her eyes pinched shut as her hands cradled her head. "Izzy, I can't... Can we talk about something else?"

"Yes. Absolutely. I'm sorry. The weather? Sports?"

"You hate small talk!"

"I'll make an exception. Ah- An easier question, perhaps? Please, don't take this as a judgment, but… Your house is… worn. It's well-decorated, but the structure itself…"

Amy blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt transition. Slowly, she straightened, considering the question. "Uh- Yeah, it's kinda falling apart, right? My mom loves to decorate- she's the one buying the flowers and decor. But sometimes… I assume she thinks taking care of the house is the man's job? Or maybe…"

Amy's mouth snapped shut, and her lips thinned into a fine line. "S-sorry," she muttered, with effort. "I know you're trying to ask something easier. It's just- My father? He works. That's all. Everything else- shopping, cooking, cleaning, financial stuff, outdoor work- Mom does that. She doesn't have the time or money to upkeep the house, and… Well, sometimes, I think… I think neither of them wants to put money into the house, even if they do have some."

"Why not? My understanding is that gradual upkeep is less expensive than waiting for things to deteriorate into emergencies."

"They split the bills, but after that, they separate their finances… And I think they don't want to use their own money in a way that benefits the other."

"Do your parents dislike one another?"

"Yes."

Her bluntness seemed to surprise Izzy. Puzzled furrows appeared over his heavy brows. "I can see why your mother would dislike your father. But surely, she could leave him?"

Amy closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat, like someone trying to sleep on a plane. She would definitely prefer napping to answering this question. "I've asked her that, myself. Eamon treats her terribly, like a personal maid/chef/errand-runner. Mom always said she can't leave him, because then she wouldn't… wouldn't have money to raise Jesse and me. And I, I stopped mentioning it,because…"

"Because it hurts to be blamed for your mother's suffering," Izzy said darkly. "Which Frances should damned well know. It's not your fault- she's an adult, responsible for her own choices. You were a child."

"Mm." Logically, Amy knew Izzy was correct… But logic couldn't overthrow the guilt planted and tended since she was small. "My point is that… Well, we don't have much money. My mom nannies for a family during workdays. My dad works in a warehouse."

"And this is an expensive area," Izzy muttered.

"Right. Neither of them can afford to live on their own, not by themselves. So… They basically live like room mates. I… I kind of suspect that they're… Well, each hoping to survive the other, so they can live the rest of their lives off the house and any leftover funds."

"But in the meantime, they aren't eager to spend their own money on those shared assets. What a minefield… I'm sorry."

Amy froze, fingers pressed to radio buttons without providing input. A minefield. A minefield. She grew up in a minefield. Was it any wonder that she twitched at every sign of danger, however minute? Amy knew that a child's environment impacted their personality, and she knew that her environment was difficult. Those two concepts collided with such intensity that they merged into a new form, haphazard, chimeric, but permanent.

She did her best to navigate her parents' minefield safely. But no one could grow up among those behaviors, those ideas, those emotions without a few mines slipping in- and it might not be possible to diffuse them, or even safely locate them, not on her own.

Izzy drove on in silence, oblivious to the explosion of understanding he triggered in her. The car slowed as he pulled off a country road onto a long, skinnier drive. Sensing that they were close, Amy tore herself out of her thoughts.

Her past was part of her, always with her. Hopefully, she'd find resources to help deal with it when she returned to campus. But, right now, she was safe with Izzy, and about to learn more about his life. When he glanced at her, she smiled, and he smiled weakly back.

"I'm sorry," he said again, a defeated, painful acknowledgment. Amy shook her head and offered the only intact thought her exhausted brain could muster.

"I'm so glad I'm with you."

Author's Note: SO. If this weren't a fanfic with no length constraints, I would have cut this chapter. It feels repetitive, but we do get to hear Amy's thoughts. Mostly, though, I figure you lovelies aren't going to turn down more content after reading 300K+ words, lol!

We'll see how things go between Amy and Izzy's family next time! Thanks for reading, and please review!