"You've really got to read this book!" I heard as I walked into the house. My feet hurt, my head hurt, and I really just wanted to get started on dinner, eat, and then go to bed. But as I went to walk past Angela, I nearly tripped over a large, brown box set behind the L-shaped couch. It was already ripped open, with little styraphome S's gathered around it. They were scattered even further as I tilted it to see what was inside.
Angela however, was unaffected by my intrusion. Her face was practically hidden behind a large, black book. Its leather binding was wrinkled, yet tightly bound. A thick red ribbon hung from the top lazily as if it were a stray feather.
She sat really still as she read on. Her feet were drawn up, and a soft, silk blanket hung over her bare legs. She was in her own little world, as she always was when she read a good book.
"Where'd you get it?" I asked, kicking off my boot; Nick and Alan were still outside, talking. About what? I don't know. But I was sure it was something along the lines of what Alan had told me. And so, I decided not to pry.
I was never a good role model when it came too coping. Regardless of whether or not I wanted to face my tragedies, I always wound up bottling them up, and letting them die off on their own time. Angela caught onto it pretty quick when I'd found out my dad died. And though we both knew it was unhealthy, we both knew that it would soon be out of my mind, and I'd be back to normal. I just hope Alan isn't the same way.
"It came in the mail. Apparently your grandfather wanted me to have this." She said, thumbing through what little of the book she hadn't read already. "I think it's our history." Her face hardened a little as she tried to find her page again.
"Well, are you sure?"
"Not really. It's pretty much an archive of old stories."
"Whatever. I'm about to heat up some food, what do you want?" I asked, shifting my weight onto the couch as I wrenched off my socks, one after the other. I hated the smell of salt water and cotton. It was a horrible reeking smell!
"Turkey and Chinese food." She said simply. I almost expected a snap of her fingers as she said so.
I leant on the back of the couch until I fell into her closed lap. My head rested right under the book, and I stared up at her.
"What?" She asked, smiling as she pretended not to notice me. "I'm reading."
"I'm just thinking." I lied. I was really procrastinating. I didn't want to order Chinese food. Mainly because I couldn't understand any of the receptionists that worked at the China Wok. "You should call."
"I just said I'm reading." She said, trying not to smile again.
"But I just got off work." I complained. "Come on, bae!"
She looked down at me. Her eyes were telling me what she really wanted. But her mouth said, "Fine. But only because you just got home."
I kissed her and she shoved my head off of her lap, almost making me fall to the floor. Reaching out, I snatched the book from her hands. "Hey!" She yelled as I tried to pull myself up. My fingers clenched aground the book as I struggled futily not to laugh. Small cracks and a smile littered my reddening face.
She snatched the book from my hand, and I fell. "I was reading that!" She said simply, smirking as she filed her fingers through the pages, trying to get her concentration back on track.
The front door opened, canceling my attack on Angela.
Alan shuffled in wordlessly. He was thankful that no one said anything about it as he walked up the stairs to his bedroom. A gloomy aura was easily visible around him as he disappeared into the upstairs hallway.
"What was that about?" I asked.
Nick shrugged. "Kid just misses his mom." He said. His voice was soft, quiet, and sad. It was instantly sobering to hear him talk like that. He and Wilson had that in common.
"Are you talking about Alan?" Angela asked, still unmoving from her spot.
"Yes we are Mrs. Obvious." I said under my breath. In which, she struck me with the book for. "Ow." I mumbled.
"Be serious, Michael." Nick pleaded. "He's not like you. He's definitely going to need time to grieve."
I sighed. He was right. I just hated being around sad people. Their presence was always so depressing, and being me; I'd always make things worse. I didn't really know how to help people cope, nor did I know much about coping myself. Hell, I was still trying to make myself believe I'd been abandoned…
I heard Angela flip open her book once again, and once again, she was thumbing through the pages to find hers.
"So what's happening?" She asked, trying to multi-task.
"Alan's mom has cancer, and she sent him here so he wouldn't belong to Marcus's Pack after she passed." I said, trying my best to get her up to speed in one sentence.
She dropped her book, and flicked my ear.
"Hey!" I yelled. Playfulness was absent in her intent.
"You're just going to let your grieving brother sit alone in his room while his mom dies?!" She yelled back. She was much angrier than I was, and it was definitely justifiable.
"What am I supposed to do?" I asked as she pushed past me and headed for the stairs. She quickly turned on me, her face was fury red.
"You're supposed to make him feel better! You ignorant ass!" She yelled, sprinting up the stairs. Her feet smashed against the stairs as she neared the top. She really wanted me to feel her anger. I could feel it pushing against my consciousness, and it took a lot of concentration to nullify it.
Alan's door opened. I could hear a quiet sob, and then the door shut.
I shoved a plate full of shaved turkey slices into the microwave angrily as I tried to get over what Angela had said. I thought that after a quick shower I'd be able to shake it off, but her words held stronger than I'd have thought.
"She's right you know." Nick commented after putting down the phone. I was glad he decided to call the China Wok while I showered.
"I know she's right, but you don't have to rub it in."
"Maybe I do." He said.
I glared at him, but my gaze was instantly met with concern. I could already hear what he was going to say.
"Don't." I warned, fat-fingering the buttons on the microwave, which now said forty minutes. "Dammit!" I yelled, instantly frustrated.
Shut up and take it. That was the only thing that got me through living with my mom, and I was determined to make it last even after she left me.
"It's just going to be harder for you when you finally do cope." He said.
"I've already made my peace, now just leave it." I said, fixing the time on the machine. My hand was shaking as I tried not to fat-finger it again.
"I'm just saying, man. His mom's about to pass. She could probably be dead already, for all we know."
"Yeah." I said coldly. "I know. So just leave it alone." My tone frosted over my lips as I chewed at the chapped skin that lined the bottom.
"You had to watch yours get eaten."
"NICHOLAS!" I yelled. I felt bad for playing this trump card, but it was all I had left in me.
He locked up. His eyes dilated slightly, and he was instantly quieted. Being an alpha, was both a blessing and a curse. If I wanted, I could have sent him outside, or had him watch the turkey until it was done, but I didn't. "Just, let it go."