2. The Rain That Started It All

My father shook hands with Mr. Carson. Carson, was a simple looking man with horn-rimmed glasses, and a peculiar habit of clapping while he laughed. It was unusual to see my father be so polite, let alone crack a smile. It was not like my father at all. I could tell that the smile was forced. They were discussing some project, but it sounded like private business and they hurriedly went into my dad’s study.

“Why is dad so happy, bro?” My sister Belle asked me in the tone that was typical of a nosey child her age. Sometimes she would even try and be “sly” about the way she asked questions. She didn’t practice her speech for any real purpose; she asked me to read Sherlock Holmes to her because it was what I was reading at the time, and she’s been adamant about becoming a detective ever since. That was two weeks ago. Overactive eight-year-old’s love to pretend.

“Dunno, Belle, maybe you should find out?” I smiled.

Belle nodded happily. “Sounds like a case for Mason, Belle Mason!” She pointed towards me with a stern face.

I laughed. “You know, that’s how James Bond says his name, not Sherlock Holmes.”

“Not-uh, I saw it once…”

“Where?”

“On...a movie,” Belle seemed to think for a few moments before shaking her head, “it’s okay anyway, I can borrow it.”

“Borrow?”

“Yep, borrow!” Her smile annoyed me a bit, but also warmed me to the extent that I couldn’t help but smile back. I wish I would have cherished it more.

Later that night I woke up to grab a glass of water. Rain was pattering against the windows of our humble little home. I stopped and watched for a minute. I was used to the rain, anyone that lives in the state of Washington long enough would be used to it. It was calming sometimes, sad for others, right then I was just thirsty.

I poured a cup of water, drank it down, and then placed my cup in the sink. On the way back to my room, I heard my mother’s voice. The words were getting loud. I had stopped being surprised by arguments from my parents a long while back. My mother and father were fairly good at keeping the peace around the house; especially adept at covering up their fights around my sister, but they fought often. I walked towards my parent’s bedroom, curious as to what the current fight was about. I pressed my ear to the door and attempted to remain as quiet as I could.

“This is unbelievable, I don’t even know why I’m surprised anymore…” my mother sounded exasperated.

“It’ll only be for a year, and we’ll be right back. It’s a fantastic opportunity for me, and Elias,” my father replied. I could picture his face. He almost always had the same no-nonsense, and prudent attitude. His voice was distinguishable from a crowd, but not something you’d be happy to hear. If anything, he always sounded interrogating, unapproachable, and distant.

“That is such an afterthought, you don’t give a damn if it’s good for Elias, you care about your own position!” My mother argued. I almost felt bad. I didn’t know what the topic had to do with me, but obviously my dad wanted to take me somewhere.

“Elias will be able to attend one of the most prestigious and accredited academies in the entire world, and arguably the best in the United States.”

“But do you really care about that? You haven’t even asked him about how he feels, and why just take him, and not try and move the family?”

“There’s no need to uproot the entire family. This is our home, and Belle is so

young, I don’t want her to have to change schools, and make elementary a turbulent time in her life. God knows there’s enough dysfunctional children.”

My mother was quiet for a moment before responding with a heavier tone, “So, instead you’d rather take her brother away from her, and leave her completely without a father.”

“I am still her father, and we will be back!”

“Are you?” My mother was yelling again. “Are you really her father? You donated the necessary parts, Jack. But you don’t attend her dance performances, you don’t help her with her homework, you work more than you’re home!”

“I won’t hear this nonsense for another moment. It’s a fantastic opportunity and this is what’s going to happen!”

I left at that point. I knew that the conversation was just going to stay ugly. My mother was nearly as stubborn as my father. I wandered back into my room and stared at the ceiling long enough to see the sun peek through the curtains. It had stopped raining at some point. I obviously didn’t sleep.

A week later I had packed my bags, forced myself to say goodbye to my sister, and had to explain to her about ten times over why I was leaving. I don’t think she understood. Honestly, I didn’t understand myself. My sister was so smart, which made me think for once she just didn’t want to understand. Then again, maybe I was terrible at explaining it right. My dad told me he had gotten a special project offer in New York, and because of his connections he had gotten me into some academy outside of Staten Island. It was a private school, but supposedly incredible. I can’t say that I cared much. I didn’t want to leave my home.