Chapter 15 #2
“We should also have a code word,” Micah said, and when everyone turned to look at him he shrugged. “What? If one of them shows up and you can't talk freely, you need a way to signal that you need help without tipping them off.”
“That's smart,” Talia said, sounding surprised. “What should it be?”
“Pineapple,” Poppy said immediately.
“Why pineapple?”
“Because it's random enough that we'd never say it by accident, and it sounds ridiculous enough that nobody would guess it's a distress signal.”
“Pineapple it is.” I added it to the note. “If any of us says pineapple in a text or a call, that means we need immediate help.”
“This is so fucking weird,” Micah muttered. “We're sitting here planning emergency protocols for dealing with our own parents like they're dangerous strangers.”
“They are dangerous,” Talia said bluntly. “Maybe not physically, but they'll bleed us dry financially and emotionally if we let them. This isn't paranoia, Micah. This is survival.”
“I know.” He rubbed at his face with both hands. “I just hate that this is what our lives look like.”
“Yeah, well. Welcome to the family business.” Poppy's voice was exhausted.
The room went quiet for a minute, all of us sitting in the weight of what we were planning for, and I felt the familiar ache of guilt settle into my chest. They shouldn't have to deal with this.
Shouldn't have to create emergency codes and document harassment and live in constant vigilance against people who were supposed to love them.
But this was the reality we'd been handed, and the only thing I could do was make sure they had the tools to handle it.
“Alright,” Talia said, breaking the silence. “What else?”
“I'll talk to June and the band, let them know I can't make the Montreal gig next week.” I said it casually, like it wasn't a thing, but I saw Talia's head snap up immediately.
“The hell you will.”
“Tal—”
“No. Absolutely not.” She stood up, crossing her arms in a way that meant this was not up for debate. “You are not canceling Montreal because Mom decided to be a nightmare today.”
“If she's escalating, I need to be here. What if she shows up again? What if Dad comes back? I can't just leave you guys to handle that alone.”
“Yes, you can. We're not children, Soren. We can handle ourselves for a weekend.”
“She's right,” Poppy said from her corner. “I'm almost eighteen. Micah's in college. Talia's got her whole life together. We're not helpless babies who need you hovering over us twenty-four seven.”
“I'm not hovering—”
“You're absolutely hovering,” Micah cut in, and there was affection in his voice but also firmness. “You've been hovering since you got custody of us. And we get it, we do. But at a certain point, you have to trust that we can take care of ourselves.”
I looked between the three of them, all of them watching me with expressions that ranged from exasperated to determined, and felt the walls I'd built around my own life start to crack.
“I just want to make sure you're safe.”
“We know.” Talia's voice softened slightly. “But you can't put your entire life on hold every time they pull a stunt. You've already given up too much for us. The gig in Montreal is a big deal, and you're not bailing on it because Mom can't take a hint.”
“What if there's an emergency—”
“Then we'll call you, and you'll come home early.
But there won't be an emergency, because we're going to be smart and careful and we have each other.” She moved closer, and I could see the determination in her eyes.
“It's time for you to live your life too, Soren. Not just the parts that fit around taking care of us.”
“I don't know how to do that.” The admission came out before I could stop it, and I felt exposed in ways that made my skin itch.
“Well, you're going to have to learn.” Poppy uncurled from the couch and came to stand next to Talia. “Because we're not letting you martyr yourself for us anymore. It's getting pathetic.”
“Poppy—” Talia started, but Poppy just shrugged.
“What? It's true. He acts like we're all going to spontaneously combust the second he leaves the apartment. It's insulting, frankly.”
“It's not insulting, it's love,” Micah said, standing up to join the intervention forming in the middle of my living room.
“But it's also a problem. You deserve to have a life outside of being our brother and our protector. You deserve to play music and travel and do things that make you happy instead of constantly putting yourself last.”
I looked at the three of them standing there in solidarity, ganging up on me with affection and frustration in equal measure, and felt my throat go tight.
“I don't deserve you,” I said quietly. “Any of you.”
“Oh, shut up with that martyr bullshit,” Talia said, but her voice was warm. “You absolutely deserve us. You're stuck with us. And part of being stuck with us means we get to tell you when you're being an idiot about your own wellbeing.”
“We're going to be fine,” Micah added. “We have the code word. We have the plan. We have each other. You can go to Montreal and play your gig and trust that we're capable of handling our lives for forty-eight hours.”
“And if you cancel,” Poppy said, grinning now, “I'm going to tell June that you're backing out because you're scared of success. And then I'm going to post about it in the family group chat until you crack from the shame.”
Despite everything, I laughed. “You're a menace.”
“I learned from the best.” She came over and hugged me, and I wrapped my arms around her with a fierceness that probably bordered on uncomfortable. “Go to Montreal, Soren. Play the gig. Have fun. Let yourself have nice things for once in your life.”
“She's right,” Talia said, joining the hug and pulling Micah in with her until we were all tangled together in the middle of the living room. “You've spent your entire twenties making sure we survived. It's time for you to do more than survive too.”
I held them close, these three people I'd fought for and bled for and loved more than I knew how to express, and let myself feel the truth of what they were saying.
They weren't kids anymore. They were capable, smart, fierce people who'd survived the same shit I had and come out the other side still standing.
Maybe it was time to trust that.