Mr.Right novel Chapter 13

"So is your name April because you were born in that month?"

We're all in the kitchen with Maverick behind the island, making toast and scrambled eggs.

Callum is beside me, behaving like a four-year-old who just learnt how to talk. I feel as though he's going to start lisping 'Where do babies come from?' or 'What makes the sky so blue?' at any second.

On the other hand, babies look cute, and Callum looks like a constipated fish. He keeps trying not to choke on the granola bar he stole from Maverick.

"Act like you're normal for once, would you?" Maverick flips the egg on the pan and turns off the cooker.

"Um... Yeah. That's exactly why I was named that." I answer Callum and his question-filled eyes widen even more.

"So let me guess, your last name is the month your parents got married, or something?"

"Actually, no. My last name's 'White'."

His brows furrows, but it's only a matter of seconds before he bursts out laughing, spitting crumbs of granola bar all over my face. "You're named after a month and your last name is a color?"

I have no idea why he finds that amusing but I have his spit all over my face and it's seriously grossing me out.

He catches Maverick's glare and coughs, clearing his throat. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. It's actually a cool name."

Maverick serves the scrambled eggs on two plates and tosses them at us, filling some cups with milk and handing them to both of us.

"You're supposed to be in college," he says as Callum buries his face in his food, trying to avoid eye contact with him.

"I dropped out."

"You what?"

"I said, I dropped-" But Maverick stops him.

"I heard you the first time." Maverick puts his hands flat on the table and rests on them. "Your Mom's going to kill you."

"I know."

"You're going to get your bank account frozen," Maverick continues.

"I know."

"She's going to disown you."

"Mave, I get it, my life is over. Thanks for explaining that," Callum's playful exterior is gone as he puts on a stern look. "I feel like I'm a disappointment to her. Why can't I just be the perfect son and get good GPAs, graduate from college and shit like that? Why do I have to be so different?"

"Hey, look." Maverick softens at his tone and so do I. "We may not have the best relationship as half-siblings and I may kick you out of my house all the time because I hate your guts..."

"But?" Callum asks, when Maverick says nothing else.

"But nothing. That's all I got."

I shoot Maverick a look and he mouths 'I'm not good at this stuff' at me. I sigh, nudging Callum with my elbow, causing him to lift up his head.

"I'm sure your mom would understand," I say quietly. "Getting good GPAs doesn't guarantee that you'll become an intelligent and successful person. I got excellent grades in Highschool and College... but look at me today. I'm jobless and live off my best friend's credit card!"

I let out a humorless laugh and continue, feeling Maverick's stare boring holes into the side of my face. "I see a young dude who's great, computer-wise and can hack any goddamn code he comes across. If that's not intelligence, I don't know what is."

"Tell your mom what you want, even if what you want involves dropping out of College. Life is too short for you to do what other people want. Follow your heart, but take your brain along with you."

How ironic it is that I'm advising someone on their life issues when my own life is in shambles... I totally relate to Callum.

I'm also beginning to feel like a disappointment which brings me to the second stage of depression.

~~~~~~

Bargaining.

Two afternoons and forty-eight-hours-of-feeling-like-shit later, I'm curled up on my bed in foetus style, trying to get some sleep to rid myself of disturbing thoughts.

Once the depression has advanced, the illness becomes almost like another entity. The depression tells you horrible things about yourself and what is going on in the world around you. And, tired of feeling this way, you begin to bargain with it.

You try to negotiate and create goals, trying to stave off the bad thoughts in favor of something more positive.

Unfortunately, this is rarely successful and the negative thoughts win out, leading to the next stage.

Which is essentially full-blown depression.

Five sleepless nights later, I've refused to step foot out of my room. I hear Maverick driving out of the house every morning and also hear when he returns home.

He visits me every night to ask me to come for dinner and, every time, I pretend to be asleep so he won't notice my red, swollen eyes.