The Meadow Annual Literary Arts Journal 2018

“When?” I ask predicting the answer. “Well…whenever is best” He glances toward my suitcase. “AP tests are coming up.” I say, trying to petition the inevita- ble. “That’s why you get to keep the car,” he half smiles. “It’s your birthday present.” “O.... okay” I try to stay positive. I walk to the entryway and grab my bags. They feel light with the weight of the world on them. I open the front door and feel the cold morning winds on my face; January’s are always cold. I look at the stars. It should be raining. In the movies, it’s always raining when this shit happens . I put my bags in my 1993 Dodge Neon and turn to look at my dad one more time before I drive off. “Happy Birthday,” he says half smiling hoping that that will alleviate his burden. Suddenly, I see him for what he really is. A man, a pebble, swept away by the water. Books litter my bed while I try studying for my AP test, but the noise of the party in living room is too loud and close to ignore. My bedroom that had served as a dining room before I arrived in the two-bedroom apartment is crowned. Behind my dresser my brother is having another “Thirsty Thursday” party. The one time I want to study, and I have to study in a fucking dining room. “Have a beer, bro,” my brother says, his words slurring from the empty cans in front of him like a trophy. His girlfriend sits on his lap, marking her territory for the other women in the room. He throws a Bud Light in my direction. I catch it and set it on next to me. “In a minute,” I respond trying to fill out one last flash card. He doesn’t acknowledge and returns to his game of Kings Cup with some college girls that had just returned from spring break. His roommate returns with more beer, “Thanks for getting The Meadow 99