Page 2 of Cruel King
My brother Andrew sits playing some game on his PlayStation like always. Twenty-years-old and he spends more time sitting on the couch with those stupid games than he does with his girlfriend. Today it’s the same one he’s been trying to master since Christmas morning, a downhill skiing game.
“Still wiping out on the slopes, Drew?” I ask as he leans left and then right before angrily tossing the controller onto the table in front of him as his character careens over the side of a snowy cliff.
He groans in frustration before sitting back against the couch. “I’ll get it. It’s just going to take a little time. I’ll try again when I get back from Tanya’s.”
When he stands to walk out, I say to both him and my father, “It smells like snow out there. I think we’re going to get a storm today. About time since it feels weird having Christmas break with grass and no snow.”
“Did you hear that on the news?” my brother asks with a sneer. “Weathermen always say it’s going to be the storm of the century, and then we get a couple inches, if we’re lucky.”
I shrug and look at my father, expecting him to say something to my brother as he grabs his coat off the rack near the stairs and gets ready to leave. “I don’t know if it’s going to be the storm of the century, but I bet we get some today or tomorrow.”
My father watches without offering a word of warning to my brother as he gets his keys off the table near the door and waves goodbye. “I’ll be at Tanya’s. I’ll probably grab dinner there too.”
“Have a good time!” my father happily says before turning back to look at me. “Are you staying in today? You should if it’s going to be snowy out.”
My mouth drops open, less in shock than frustration at how differently he treats me compared to my brother. “So I need to stay in, but Andrew can just go driving around the countryside with snow coming?”
Without a hint of guilt or irony, he says as he turns to walk upstairs, “Your brother is different.”
What he means is he’s not me and he’s not a female. I could tilt at that windmill and argue with my father that his sexism is completely unfair to me, but the last time I did, he looked like I was breaking his heart.
“I’m driving Mr. King to the city today. I need to get ready since we’re leaving in twenty minutes.”
As he hits the first stair, I say, “Cutting it a little close, don’t you think?”
My father lowers his head so he can see me as I sit on the couch. Laughing, he answers, “It’s not like there’s much to do, honey. I’m a man. We’re ready as soon as we dress in the morning. All I have to do is put on my coat and make sure I have my gloves.”
“Don’t forget your hat. It’s cold out there, Dad,” I say, mildly mocking him and his overprotectiveness.
But he doesn’t pick up on my sarcasm and simply nods. “Yes, yes. That’s right. It is cold, so I’ll need my warm woolen hat for the trip today.”
So much for being understood by your own family.
Ten minutes later, my father walks into the living room wearing his best gray wool coat and the dark gray wool hat my mother bought him right before she got sick. He rarely wears it, oddly enough. Maybe it’s too hard to see it and not think of her. Or maybe he thinks if he never wears it that he doesn’t have to accept she’s actually gone.
“You look very handsome, Dad. You and Mr. King are going to make quite the couple of studs walking around Manhattan today,” I tease.
My father strikes a model pose and runs his hand through his thinning brown hair.. “Thank you. Now promise me you’ll stay home in case the weather gets bad.”
Screwing my face into an expression of disbelief, I say, “No have a good time, Ava? That’s what Andrew got.”
“Your brother is your brother, and you are you. Completely different situations.”
I have nothing to say to that. I guess I could point out how wrong it is that he treats me like this, but ever since my mother died, I’ve had a difficult time not being the daughter I know he needs me to be. So I take the inequality between my brother and me, accepting it so my father doesn’t have to worry.
“No problem, Dad. I have no plans to go anywhere today. All my friends are off on skiing vacations.”
He frowns and quickly says, “You know, I told you that you could go with them. I’m not a complete ogre.”
I nod, knowing he did offer to pay for the trip if I wanted to go. “It’s okay. I’m just not into skiing like everyone else who was going. I’m fine here. Maybe I’ll play Drew’s downhill game and see if I can do better than he did.”
That makes my father chuckle. “Just don’t tell him. He’ll be crushed that the first time you touched that controller you mastered the game.”
Always worried about everyone. That’s my father.
“I won’t. If I conquer the imaginary PlayStation mountain, I’ll keep my win to myself.”
He looks around the room for a moment, so I say, “Check your pockets. Your gloves are probably in them.”