Chapter 1

By the time I’d finally wrapped up my work and got the fire burning low enough to feel safe leaving it the rest of the night on its own, it was midnight. I grabbed my laptop and tucked it under my arm while still holding my now-empty mug. Midnight isn’t so late, there’s still some time to do things on a Friday night, my inner monologue said. Thanks grandpa.

I hesitated at the sliding door as my mind played ping pong, bouncing back and forth between go to bed and stay up and do something. I slid the door open, then closed, and locked it. I took a few short strides to my right and set the mug in the sink. Then, I snatched the metaphorical ping pong ball mid-flight. I was satisfied by the prospects of tomorrow enough to not put if off, and on top of that, I was pretty tired.

Making my way past the living room towards the front of the house, I stopped myself again. Well, now you’ve turned into your parents. I almost gasped at the realization: I’m getting old. Not really, but I was done with school, working fifty hours a week, living in my own home, and now I was going to bed by midnight on a Friday night.

I continued toward the stairs, telling myself it wasn’t that I didn’t want to have fun, it was just that I had the wisdom to realize better opportunities could be pursued tomorrow. Wisdom. Fuck, I was getting old.

At the top of the stairs, there was light coming from under the door of the bedroom to the right. My sister was unsurprisingly still awake. Emma was attending a high-end private school just a couple minutes from where I lived–almost two hours from our parents. This was her choice of school, so mom and dad made her get a job and pay for her own housing. Thus she paid some rent to stay with me, rather than the extra to be put up by the school.

I turned left toward my own bedroom. Emma and I didn’t cross paths a huge amount, so it wasn’t too big of a deal. She attended high school, worked the weekends at the local outdoor water park mostly in the ice cream shop, and spent time with her friends when she could. I worked fifty hours Monday-Friday, while also playing basketball or soccer in the evenings with friends from college. Weekends were more open, so I’d watch European football leagues, and hang out with Kayla or the guys. Emma and I would pass each other and I’d get a high five, but we didn’t talk more than a couple times a week. She was pretty independent, cared about her schooling, and I sure as hell didn’t want her to feel like I was parenting her. So we co-existed in a similar space quite well.

Finally, I set my laptop on the desk in the corner of my room, plugged it in, stripped down to my boxers, and crashed into bed. Sleep came pretty easy.