Satisfied

The rain continued to drizzle and intensify. The pellets hit the ground with a force that echoed like bullets raining from artillery mini guns. The sky itself turned dirty white, leaving spectators to wonder whether it had removed the clouds, or was covered by one unreachable blanket.

Underneath the rented canopies that bordered the estate, it seemed like all us guests were trapped inside a prison of perpetual water.

"I can't bear this anymore. I'm going, whether anyone likes it or not." Said one guest, who I nearly mistook for Hillary Clinton, accompanied by the rhythm of nods and mumbles. As most made their way in, I turned back to face the rain.

A few men were gathering the markers, bats, and balls on the field, using their coats as protection from the endless barrage that became louder and louder with each second. Among the tents were seated a few guests who had not finished their bowl sized meals, sitting at the circular cloth tables. Most of the guests I knew were friends of Jake's, coming here for admiration and entertainment. The hope of relishing in his success as if it was their own.

There was one who I almost did not recognize.

I walked over, her face turned to the rain just like mine was, but then turned back when I said hello. "Oh, Jonathan, I figured you'd be here. I mean, why wouldn't you, you're family."

I was surprised at seeing her when she arrived at the party, hidden among the other guests who swarmed the house and eventually the tents. I hadn't had the chance to talk to her, given that Jake insisted I play pitcher. He said we needed a man with focus, but enough 'humility' didn't upstage the showI had both, despite knowing it was a lie.

After being 'that man' for the majority of the day, the down poor allowed me to find Madison, the only person who might offer me something new. At least I hoped.

"I missed you Maddie. It's been a long while hasn't it." She nodded, as I continued. "I thought you were going to Ireland for the summer. Or were you getting too homesick?" I asked.

She sighed with astonishment. "Beginning to think I never would, actually. I just needed to get out on my own, find out who I wanted to be. But, Nj's far away and I figured I owed my big brother one more visit for his birthday before I vanish off his map." I nodded. "Guess the same doesn't go for you though. You're his number 1 fan."

I looked at my shoes, tattered in dried mud that nearly looked like paint. "Not as hardcore as it seems let me assure you. But ever break I get, I play ball with him. Help him practice. He deserves this celebration after a hard season. What did he make you do."

She smiled as she sipped from a red ringed plastic cup. "Oh, he's still a manchild as far as I'm concerned. Mom tried begging me to come back during every holiday, no end. But, it was my first year at Princeton, let alone my double major. Getting knocked into a coma from the third pitch would not have helped."

"Ha-ha. But face it, our brother's more mature now, and mom's cured from her excessive patronage. And dad has gotten more appreciative. Always supportive, but autistic as hell."

She nodded with an accepting smile, after downing another gulp. "I noticed. I asked him what career Jake was going to have outside sports and he looked at me like the stock market crashed. Mom reassured me that Jake was going to be fine, and then started asking me if college was getting worse or better. Me? Can you believe it, she wants me back for a break and now she thinks I'm banging the jocks there. It's insane!"

We shared a laugh together at our parent's contradictory behavior. I found an empty cup next to the small pitcher on the clothed table, and I poured myself my own water.

"Don't they have any alcohol here. After all this is baseball and Jake? The most compatible words in the dictionary." She asked, smiling at her gulping down her water before filling it again.

"I wish, but it's our parents. There's no alcohol for guests here. Not while some of us are 'underage'. He'll probably grab a beer or two from our fridge behind their back." I snickered with her.

She returned to the point. "Yet, whether it's him that insists or not, now matter what I do, I always wind up back here. No one's perfect in our clan, but we learned to roll with it, at least some of us did. Right." Maddie said it with such incandescence, but something told me that she detested the thought of home.

Our conversation then came to a pause, as the rain thickened with wind outside the white tent, creating an opaque screen of gray and white. I looked around and noticed that everyone had gone inside to continue their gossip. Jake was likely in the thick of it, absorbing the energy of others, losing no sweat in the process. You know the feeling you get when it's as though the earth revolves around you briefly, and you can't help but turn red or start letting the heat ooze out of your skin. Jake never got that. Even on his birthday.

"Jonathan, you seem forlorn. Did Jake beat you with his bat or something?"

I dropped my jaw half open, knowing full well that the problem was there, hidden among the house, people, and a storm was glaring at the two of us. I felt prompted to embrace the dread, but only partially.

"Hey Maddie, if I tell you a secret, you won't tell anyone will you?"

She grinned. "Who would I tell? You're the only one here I've enjoyed talking to."

I nodded, set down my half empty/full cup, and prepared to tell her what happened. "College starts in 3 months for me, and it seems coincidence recently granted me acceptance to Princeton." She brightened, seeming genuinely happy, which I thought was rare. "But, I'm not sure I am going.

She narrowed. "What, why?"

"I just... I think that there are other colleges here that I can go to that are acceptable, Solid B colleges given the area and constraints."

She tilted her head. "Jonathan, what the flying fuck? You're a short fiction author going into literature, and Princeton's the best place for it."

I sighed and told her the truth. "I can't leave Jake, and my mom to go start my career far away. It wouldn't be fair to them."

"Wouldn't be fair? You got accepted to an Ivy League, what could you possibly owe them? Are you saying you'd rather live life in the Minor leagues than the Big leagues?"

I understood what she said, yet she failed to see my orientation on the subject. "I do, it's just, that's the problem. If I leave them, the'll never forgive me. I might end up like you, Maddie." She nearly spit out her sip almost down her esophagus after hearing me. She set the cup down and her eyes loosened and steadily swung side to side. I realized the heat of the moment had driven me to the core and true purpose the conversation expected me to arrive at. Now I could not avoid it.

No jokes, no white lies. Truth.

"My parents didn't want me to tell you this, but I think you of all people deserve to. When you vanished from our radar for an entire quarter year, hardly calling, you came back for Christmas. As we all know, it didn't go well. You practically ghosted yourself in your old room, and your presence felt daunting to me, all of us. I had to resort to sending you emails from downstairs because I didn't want to disturb you. Mom and Dad seemed even worse. I listened from my room as you told Mom to 'piss off', they looked as though you had done something to them. Then of course, we all remember the scene Mom made at dinner that one night. I didn't know what to say, I just watched you and her scream with Dad before you stomped off. After you left promptly back for NJ, winter ended, that's when the fights started, bad ones. I eves-dropped on all of you shouting over the phone. But it was never about grades, just your life and what you were doing unknown to them. 'Micromanaging' popped up nearly every-time."

She huffed, but then resumed her pensive expression as I spoke. "They argued with each other, shouted on your phone calls. And me and Jake, we just stopped any opposition to them. I guess you could say I've been their punching bag"

She looked up as she listened. "Well, I guess they'd be too proud or intimidated to lay all their shit on Jake. But why didn't you call me? I never meant to scare you. You're my brother Jonathan, and a damn cool one at that."

"I thought 'bout it, but I knew it would only make things worse for you and me. Everyone. But then, after a while, Mom and Dad just...stopped. You were probably busy, but they reduced calls, and outbursts were less frequent. They didn't blame themselves, not with words. Jake didn't see, but I could see it then, they made a mistake. But then I began to think, was this going to happen to me. Even if I got a dream opportunity, would it be shallow in the face of our family."

A long silence followed my finish, the shower stronger than falling pebbles populated the scene. We both resumed drinking and refilling our cups. Maddie already had two full ones, but I just finished my second, catching up with her. Maddie then spoke as she decided she'd had enough time to think. "Jonathan, I, I never knew that you felt this way. I mean, don't get me wrong, you're a pain in the ass one way or another but, I'm sorry if I divided you, Jake, and everyone. You're saying that you've been dreading success because you feared their resentment?"

I nodded. "Well here's the thing," she continued, "don't let them tell you what to do. Make them understand that it's no one's fault. No one has to control anyone. We're the progeny of the future, not decorations for our parents."

"Yes," I leaned into the word before proceeding. "But I think we got worried that you would outgrow us. At least that's what they said about you a few times. I think Mom and Dad just need to know they've carved their portraits into your life. Every person wants to be remembered, the desire's unavoidable."

She huffed, releasing the cantankerous energy that I brought us into. She doused half of her third cup before I took my first sip. "Maybe we're getting a bit philosophical, but this further my difference on this matter. Do you remember when I graduated from Nueva High a year ago? I studied and worked through hell, while amassing more Computer Science projects, which I've mastered since freshman year. I worked harder than most, only to be negligently booted by Mom, who said I should've focused more on my grades and friend networking. Even when I got my acceptance letter, she and Dad didn't seem impressed by what I did, what I wanted to do. They needed to look past my social and exterior imperfection. My virtues were not material as they would've liked. That's why I never visited, except for that not so merry X-rated Christmas."

Her panorama of her family resonated with me, probably since I began to draw a similar sketch of our family over the past few months. It was most evident after my graduation and after Jake's big games. Of course, the unspoken care that existed between us was never shattered. But it became far more apparent after every big game, every Aced test, and all 'congratulations', that their words sounded more like pressure warnings rather than praise. I thought it was the rigorousness of school that prompted my imagination to paint such an image.....until now.

As she finished her third cup I took another large sip of my third, leaving less than half remaining. My view had shifted enough to see hers. "I suppose they should've appreciated your technical know-how and dedication enough to see you'd be fine on your own. But with their mildly narrow minds, they still love us, right. I showed Mom some of my essays and short stories, and she really likes them, I mean really she digs them. Remember the short one I sent you for Christmas. It was a lot like that story we read together for High School, Ted Chiang."

She scrambled her eyes quickly, recalling her winter break that she spent here, her one visit home, and suddenly, popped. "Right, right, Division By Zero. Yep, that depressed and misunderstood guy with the brain. Your own story, which I believe was about an addict and his mom, had a lot of those themes." She folded her hands.

I nodded as I finished my third cup, matching hers, but tightened my pressed lips. "Hmm, hmm. But I bring this up because while I do understand why you hardly visited, why we felt distant from you, I think our parents would feel this way if you let them know how you felt. No one's asking to toss away your dream and be complacent. We're asking you to remember and be proud of their help." As I said it, I refilled each of our glasses of opinion.

"But look at them, what's there to be proud of? They've got a rich house, estranged kids, and the jockiest of jocks for a son. That's good, yet they're inability to try on a dude's shoes has estranged us. And me, traveling the country with enough money and a prestigious line of work awaiting me. How much help does it look like I need from them?"

"That's not what I'm saying. They raised us, wanted us to succeed. But the fact that they didn't know exactly how to help doesn't matter in the long run. The beginnings aren't what matter, our ends are." I paused again, and she seemed to chew on it for a moment, albeit without the slightest movement. "It's difficult to see, but they can change, Maddie. "

"They won't." She replied bluntly, setting her cup firmly down after a strong swig. She breathed in and out, likely to escape the haziness of 3 (1/2) cups. "No use trying now."

A rumble of thunder was heard, the first one since the rain began to fall about 10 minutes ago. The noise drew both our attention away from the talk and then to the windows that housed the guests, which had decreased in quantity. Our dad, who looked like President Kennedy was shaking hands with others who looked like other Presidents, likely as a farewell. Know how many people who looked like The President I've seen my dad talk to: over 30, that's how many.

"Eh, the sun was never going to show now, and everyone's ready to end this junction. So should we." Maddie replied to nature's alarm, as she prepared to finish what was likely her final glass.

"Ain't time yet. How 'bout we settle this quick. Jake and the other's probably won't demand our attention until they parents go."

She seemed nervous about delving further, but then reappeared hopeful of its outcome. "Here's the thing, at this point, why would they believe me? They think I'm irresponsible, when all I wanted was them to grow a pair, see me as a person. Don't throw your chance of an Ivy career out the window just so you can see every one of Jake's home runs, or play blackjack with our folks every night."

I reconsidered the ramifications of Winter Break, the sad truth of our parents' perception of us, but I disdained her isolation, and feared the real possibility of my own. But unlike my parents’ audaciousness, I attempted to win her over in a more strategic fashion. Maddie is a reserved girl who was sure about almost everything. Time to make her unsure. 

"I give credence to your reasons, and I'll admit you've changed my mind about Princeton. I'm not throwing away my chance. But this does not mean I have to turn invisible for God's sake. Consider this: the only rules in life are these: what a person can do, and what a person must do. For example, you feel you need to become a remarkable person of society, reasonable, but you're presented with the option of entailing the past. Now the past is never escapable, so whether you choose to severe it or not is 'immaterial'."

My last word seemed to jolt her as she recalled her doctrine of her family. As I spoke I drank my 4th, but more calmly and less concerned than before. Her own limp-less cup dangled from her fingers elegantly.

"Now take my situation inversely: I could throw away my chance for making a difference in the world to stay with my family, and the past. But I can see now that it would be a disservice to myself and my family's potential legacy, yes?" I finished gesturing to her in gratitude.

She looked down at the cloth where her hands were positioned. Her face showed me something I had rarely seen in her. It didn't surprise me that she looked to understand my argument. It was her nature to make sure she understood every line of code, or subject detail. But what's more, she seemed to agree with me. A trait she never showed since she was right about most everything, technical or not.

"So, aren't you willing to take a chance with your past and learn a thing or two? Or do you believe you already know enough?" I encouraged Maddie to speak, as I doused the final sip, setting my empty cup down in affirmation.

A little fact I grew up learning was that viewpoints are stubborn. More often than not, fundamentality will win. Change will always be outvoted by contentment 10-1, no matter the scale. one cannot expect change to occur at an instant, it requires a long distance to and from a threshold. By now I barely considered the possibility that more change was called for, but my sister made it apparent that we both did.

For a moment, she nearly forgot the imaginary drinking contest we had passively been inside for the duration of the exchange. Still, she appeared to remain in the state of cognizance, twisting her cup and lips in a circular fashion simultaneously. She made eye contact, longingly, like she had just proved me wrong.

"You know, you can learn many things from watching others. But you can learn a helluva lot more from participation. But as they say, lean one way too much, then what is persistence without insight. I suppose that's the polar irony between the two of us. Yes, I can see it now."

As she spoke she then paused and turned to the thunderous rain that had gone from taps to applause in 18 minutes. The light from the estate showed through the tents floor away from the murky world outside. In our haste and unconsciousness, the trays of food from the serving table had vanished, yet we were still alone now.

This was something my parents assumed I knew, and thus believed I made the correct choices with their observation. But the reality is, I had to learn this lesson from watching them, and from others, who my parents did not expect to teach, but entertain. Somehow I learned from this encounter with my estranged sister that this was an unspoken truth of our family, just like each other's care.

"Look, I'm leaving for Iceland in about a week. But I guess it can be moved to next week or so. You know as much as I do that, nothing worthwhile can happen in a short amount of time. Believe me, I'mma programmer. But it'll be enough to start, yes." I seemed confused by her cryptic words. But she then stopped her swirling cup and doused the remains of her 4th and final drink. She set it down next to me in acceptance. Although I hardly ever saw her give in, I knew this was a sign of humble realization.

"Satisfied."