12. Chapter 11
“Can’t we just go to your place for dinner? Mom’s on this health kick again. I’m really tired of eating cardboard.”
“You’ll be fine,” they told Denny. “I know for a fact Dad keeps a stash of chips and cookies in his office.”
“Well you come in and distract them, so we can grab some. I’ll die if I don’t get anything sweet again.”
Mel started ticking things off on their fingers. “Hot chocolate, two peanut butter chip cookies, a sleeve of powdered doughnuts—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Denny said. “You’re the worst big sibling ever.”
Mel laughed as they climbed out of their car. Sonia looked up at them, a shy smile on her face. “You’re really not,” she said softly. “Even Denny doesn’t actually think so.”
Mel put a hand on Sonia’s shoulder. “I’ll come in for a few minutes.” They pitched their voice so Denny could hear all the way up on the front porch.
When they all stepped into the kitchen, their mother was pulling something out of the oven.
Lasagna, Mel thought, except there was a lot of green in it.
If they weren’t mistaken, that was a piece of cardboard under it.
Mel swallowed a sigh. She was trying. That had to count for something.
At least Denny and Sonia weren’t left to feed themselves nearly every night, the way Mel often had.
“Go wash up for supper,” their mother said, barely giving the twins a glance.
“Denise, you never cleaned the bathroom like you were told to do over the weekend. Twice. You would think you could be more responsible. Do you want to lose your computer this time?” Denny didn’t say anything and their mom looked over. “I asked you a question.”
“No, Mom. I’m sorry.”
Denny ducked out of the kitchen, and Mel waited until the steps to the second floor creaked before they turned to their mother. “Don’t you think you’re a little hard on Denny?” they asked.
“Expecting her to remember her responsibilities isn’t being hard on her. It’s not like we ask that much of either of them.”
Only perfect grades, perfect behavior. No, not much at all. “Have you looked into those resources I sent you? If you need me to take them to the evaluations—”
“Just stop, Melanie.”
Mel flinched, and their mother sighed, but Mel was sure they caught a roll of their mother’s eyes. She’d say Denny was the immature one. At least Mel’s sibling had an excuse, being a literal teenager.
“You are not these girls’ parent. You don’t get to decide what they need. I’ve been in academia long enough to see when someone needs a little more discipline to achieve their full potential. Neither of them are even trying. They won’t ever be able to overcome their heritage this way.”
Mel wanted to scream. Their father’s parents had tried so hard to assimilate, and Mel’s maternal grandparents had always praised their father for acting more like a white person than a Mexican. Leading their parents to apparently think that was something to be proud of.
Mel absolutely hated it.
Mel might not be a parent, but they had pretty much raised their siblings. Their parents provided food and shelter, but everything else came from Mel. They certainly saw more of Denny and Sonia than either of their parents did. Both of them were trying, no matter what their mother thought.
Mel knew they’d never be able to convince their mother of that. If they pushed, their parents would shut the door in their face. There would be no way to help their siblings.
That didn’t mean they couldn’t find small ways to help Denny and Sonia. They certainly would not give up on them. No matter what.
“Could you stay out of our affairs, Melanie?”
Mel looked over at their father. Losing their temper with their mother would have been bad enough. She would have frozen Mel out with a blast of ice. But, their father? He was rarely anything but calm, and only got more so when they showed the slightest bit of agitation.
Yelling at him would not accomplish anything. The only chance they had was to stay completely calm and lay out the facts in a logical, calm manner.
They could sometimes manage logical but never calm.
They’d sat through dinner, choking down the cardboard-tasting vegetable lasagna, and swallowing all the complaints their mother had about everything either of the twins did.
That didn’t count the tiny complaints she had about Mel.
What they wouldn’t swallow was the way they completely ignored Denny when they asked their parents not to use feminine terms to refer to them.
Mel waited until the twins tramped up to their room and their parents were in the kitchen to confront them, though.
“This isn’t about your affairs, Dad. It’s about the way you treat one of your children.”
“That sounds exactly like our affair, Melanie.”
Sometimes Mel wondered if their parents didn’t realize how it grated on them to have their full name thrown back at them, no matter how many times they emphasized how much the shorter version fit them better.
“All of our daughters are our affair,” their mother added.
Or they didn’t care, because they were always right. No matter how wrong they might be.
“Let’s start with that,” Mel said. “I heard Denny request not to be called by feminine terms, but you completely ignored that. Then you got upset when they had a problem with that.”
“Denise needs to learn to control her temper,” their mother said. “No one will respect a young lady who flies off the handle at the smallest thing.”
“It’s not a small thing, Mom,” Mel said firmly. “It’s their identity, and the least you can do is respect it.”
“Of course we respect our children,” their mom said, sounding offended. “We only ask they show us the same respect.”
No, that was not all their mom asked. Mel let that one go for now. “You complain about Denny’s temper all the time, but have you ever tried to find a way to help them control it?”
“We have,” their mom replied sharply. “She has faced so many consequences, and none of them ever work. Obviously she was spoiled too much when she was younger.”
Mel ignored that dig. They’d been the one in charge of the twins almost exclusively when they’d been infants and toddlers. “None of your lectures or consequences ever got to the root of the issue. It didn’t teach Denny a better way of handling their emotions.”
“She’s almost an adult,” their father said, after glancing toward his wife. “She should be able to figure that out on her own.”
Almost an adult? They weren’t even starting with that one. “It’s not as easy as that. It’s not the only issue. If you’d let me set up an appointment—"
“No.” Their mom quickly shut that down. “There is nothing wrong with my girls. I’m not having someone throw some diagnosis at them which will give them an excuse to stop trying.”
Mel wanted to pull their hair out, but their parents would see that as a weakness. They had explained before that getting that diagnosis could help them find ways to help the twins succeed, but neither of their parents wanted to hear that.
“Is there anything I can say to convince you?” If Mel could make the appointment themself, they’d do that. The truth was they weren’t the twins’ guardian, no matter how much more active they were in their lives. That apparently didn’t matter.
“No,” their mother said firmly. “We are their parents. We know what’s best for them.”
Mel hoped they might eventually be able to do something to help their siblings, but it didn’t seem like it would ever be enough.
“Then, I’m going home.” Or out somewhere to blow off some of this mood. Maybe find someone they could kiss.
Why did that blond catcher’s face have to come into their mind at that moment? He was the last thing they needed to add to their plate.
“You’re still picking the girls up early tomorrow?” their mother asked before they could leave.
They sighed. “Of course, Mom.”
Maybe they’d cuddle up with a carton of ice cream instead. That at least wouldn’t ask anything else of them.