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October 17

'Going out with Hashir for dinner. He said he has to talk about something important. How likely is it that he's gonna propose?'

I snort when I read the message attached with Marla's sultry picture. With her curls and red dress that leaves most of her legs and back bare, she looks like a model. She's already beautiful, her dark skin glowing under the lights. She gives credit to the makeup but I'm sure she's so happy she could be dreaming.

'Not very likely,' I type back. 'You're sixteen, for God's sake.'

My phone pings when she replies. 'Seventeen. I'll be eighteen in a few months and then we can have a ton of kids.'

'Ew,' I reply back, laughing. 'Don't get your hopes up too high.'

'Don't ruin my vibes, sis. Kay, I gotta go. So ready for this big night.'

I snicker, shaking my head. I'm happy Marla's trip is going well. After the number of teen romance novels I've read, I'd half expected her to find Hashir living with another girl there before flying back home to have a dramatic crying fit. Thankfully, though, she's not only having a good time but also delighted that her boyfriend isn't a douche like I'd sort of expected.

Clicking on my music playlist and sitting in my room, I begin to hear Mom and Dad's voice downstairs. It catches me off guard and I freeze, slipping my earbuds out of my ears. Putting my phone aside, I try to make out what they're saying.

I can't remember the last time I heard my parents talking to each other.

Picking my laptop off my legs and closing the lid, I slide out of bed and swing my legs over the edge. The thin walls of my room don't allow my parents privacy and I make my way towards the bedroom door. Cracking it open so that the voices become even clearer, I stand and listen.

"I don't mind if Taylor is okay with it," my mom is saying.

I inch closer to the stairs, placing a hand on the cool wooden railing and beginning to descend the steps.

"And you won't move with us?" Dad asks in his usually gentle tone.

"I've been working double shifts at the store and might get promoted to manager soon," Mom's answers. "Asking for a transfer now could ruin my chances of a pay rise."

Dad hums and drifts into silence. I frown, taking one step after the other down the stairs. Although I should be happy my parents are talking again, the undertones of aloofness don't escape my notice. They don't seem like the couple in love I've seen all my life. A man who left his country and family and a woman who gave up her education so they could get married and settle down. The people I hear are two strangers forcing themselves to hold a civil conversation.

"Will you talk to Taylor or do I?" Dad asks.

My frown deepens and lips purse when I note the regret in his voice. I can't help but wonder what it is that he regrets. Is it so hard for him to talk to his own daughter?

"You should talk to her," Mom says, dismissing Dad.

I turn into the kitchen and place a hand against the doorframe to root myself.

"Talk to me about what?" I ask.

Mom and Dad turn to look at me. I notice them standing on each side of the kitchen island as if standing too close to each other will hurt them either physically or emotionally. Their sad eyes and sunken cheeks don't bother me. What bothers me is the comparison image of them in my mind. How did two people who could barely stop laughing and talking transform so drastically into robots going about their businesses because they don't have a choice?

Dad swallows and places his drink on the table, pushing his frameless glass up on the bridge of his nose. White streaks the dark hair pushed back from his small forehead. Even though he's dressed in his usual black coat and khakis, the shoulders of the coat hang off his weak frame.

"Taylor," Dad speaks, sounding like he would rather be anywhere but here. "I was just talking your mother about ..."

He trails off, glancing at Mom who avoids his gaze as well as mine, focusing her attention on the glass of wine in her hand. Recently, every time I've seen mom she's had a drink in her hand. As for Dad, I barely see him anymore. He comes home late when I'm in bed and pretending to be asleep and leaves soon before I wake up. I've had this hunch for a while that my parents don't even share a room anymore but haven't asked them about it. I'm pretty sure they won't answer me anyway.

"I got a call from your grandfather," Dad says in a rush. "He isn't well and the doctors have said he doesn't have too long left. He wants me to come to Beijing."

I don't speak, waiting for Dad to go on. I'm sure this isn't all he's talking to me about. If it was only a matter of visiting China, there would be nothing to worry about. Dad visits his father and siblings almost every two years. Last time I visited with him, Carter ended up deciding he wanted to be a vegetarian for the rest of his life. Seeing our uncles eating frogs didn't sit well with him.

"He also wants me to ..." Dad hesitates, his shoulders stiffening. "... stay there and take care of his restaurant."

I blink, pieces finally falling into place.

"You're moving back to China?" I ask my dad, unable to believe it.

"I want us to move to China," Dad says. "But your mother has a job and ..."

"What about me?" My brow furrows, disbelief filling my heart like helium.

"Well, I'm hoping you'll come with me."

I stare at Dad, unable to comprehend what he's saying.

"Wait, but ..." I look at the floor, frowning as I struggle to make sense of things. "But I have school and ... we live here. This is our home. We can't just leave and spend the rest of our lives in China. I'm going to college soon."

"You can go to school there --"

"But we can't just leave, Dad," I exclaim, my voice rising. "This is our home. What about your job? What about Mom?" I gesture toward Mom who is too busy pretending she's alone in the room. "What about Carter, Dad? What about someone visiting his grave and leaving flowers and all his things in the room and --"

"Carter's gone," Dad says, suddenly too distant. His voice has no remorse, only a wave of underlying anger that I don't understand and certain 'I don't want to talk about him' attitude.

"Oh, you know that, do you?" I ask sarcastically.

Dad averts his gaze but I'm too bitter to let him do that. My heart tears at the thought of leaving. Even though I feel like a hypocrite because I'm planning to move to Washington for college. But at least I'd hoped I'd keep coming back over the holidays because my parents would still be here. Carter's still here.

Or at least his memory is.

"Taylor, if you don't want to go, you don't have to," Dad says, turning away so he won't have to see me.

That only upsets me more.

"That's right, I don't want to go," I snap, curling my hands into fists on my side. "I'm not going to get up and move because the two of you are too caught up in your own heads to actually do something to keep this family together."

"I know it's not easy," Dad says, huffing in exasperation. "You think we're not trying?"

"Well, I don't know how you define it but what you're doing isn't trying," I counter.

"It's not all about you," Dad snaps, his small eyes glaring at me. "Not everything is about you, Taylor. We have a lot to handle and the least you can do is not sound like an ungrateful brat."

I wince at the use of the title. Dad probably notices too, his face draining of all color. He opens his mouth, staring at me as if he's expecting me to blow up. As for me, I'm taken back to last year when Dad had called Carter the same thing because he refused to leave his room.

The day he killed himself.

"Taylor --" Dad begins.

I spin on my heels, unable to stand under this roof for another minute. Struggling not to cry, I race up the stairs and barge into my room, picking up my phone and school bag from the desk against the wall and stuffing my feet into my joggers. Jerking on the first hoodie I can find, I pull the bag over my shoulder and skip down the stairs two at a time.

Mom and Dad appear in the kitchen doorway when they hear the sound of my feet. Their eyes widen when they see me unbolting the door.

"Honey, wait --" Mom speaks.

I don't give a fuck what she has to say, yanking open the door and racing out into the rapidly darkening street. The sky thunders overhead, thick clouds hanging low. Out in the open street, I look up toward the heavens and wonder if Carter's looking down at me.

"Why'd you leave, Carter?" I breathe, hoping he can hear me wherever he is. "Why ... why'd you leave me?"

Closing my eyes and fighting my tears, I zip up my hoodie and ignore my parents calling after me. I head down the street without a destination in mind.

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A/N: I'm slowly bringing the story towards its climax. It won't be a particularly long story and we're hopefully already halfway through -- unless the story takes an unplanned turn and I have to follow my instinct. Hope you're liking the story so far <3