Read Impossibly True (Impossibly Duology) for Free Online Page B

care.
      
“Well, isn’t this a good example you’re setting for your son.” I turned and saw
a miserable figure huffing in the arched doorway. Mom. Her eyes darkened with hatred. Icy air ricocheted off her and filled the room.
      
“What a good father you are,” she continued mocking him.
      
“Oh just go to bed, woman,” Dad slurred.
      
Glancing back at him, I noticed his eyes were droopy and he could barely keep
steady on his feet anymore. I started to feel frustrated. What the hell kind of
home was this?
      
“Maybe you should go to bed,” I said in an angry tone, yanking the empty
bottle out of his hand. I got sick of him trying to drain every last drop.
Holding the bottle up to his face, I snapped, “There’s nothing left.”
      
He glared at me, but didn’t say anything, only walked past me towards the
doorway. Dad wobbled with every step. When he reached Mom, she scoffed, then marched off up the stairs. He laughed, and headed down
the hallway towards his office instead.
      
I stayed behind in the living room, plopping down on the sofa with my head
leaned back on the soft cushion, exhausted. Again, what the
hell kind of a home was this?  How I wished I could curl up with
Moya in my arms right now.
      
Just then, I took my cell phone out of my pocket and sent her a text:
       I’m
home now. Goodnight, babe. Sweet dreams.
      
Shortly after, she sent me a reply:
       Goodnight,
Bran. I love you.
      
My heart melted. I sat out on the sofa fast and read the text over. She had no
idea how those three words made all my troubles disappear.
      
Grinning like an idiot, I quickly typed my reply and hit send. I wondered if
she was lying in bed, smiling as she read my text. Perhaps like a lullaby, it
soothed her to sleep.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

 
     
    CHAPTER
EIGHT

    Moya
     
       I’d wanted to say those words again because I felt sure of myself—more certain now than
when he was in the hospital. People often say crazy things in situations like
that, and often ended up retracting their statements. Thankfully, I hadn’t
regretted saying it then, even after getting some clarity.
      
My heart felt as if it was going to burst out of my chest if I didn’t tell
Branden. I couldn’t fall asleep after he replied saying he loved me too,
staying up until the wee hours thinking about seeing him again before I left
for school. When sleep overcame me, I dreamt of nothing else but him.
      
At the crack of dawn, I climbed out of bed, washed my face, and then headed to
the kitchen to make breakfast for Momma. Soon she’d be waking up to get ready
for her shift at the supermarket.
      
By the time she came down the hallway and entered the kitchen, I had scrambled
eggs with sausage and toast on a plate, and coffee with no cream in her
favorite mug waiting on the oval table.
      
“Well, look at this,” she gushed, walking over to the table. “Oh baby you
didn’t have to get up so early to do all this for me.”
      
“Never mind, Momma, eat before it gets cold.”
       “All right.” She sat down and sipped her coffee. I
joined her after fixing myself a plate.
      
Momma kept a watchful eye on me while eating. Her eyes narrowed when she took
up the mug and drank some more coffee. Settling it down next to her plate, she
said in a suspicious tone, “You don’t look right.”
      
Confused, I stopped eating. “What do you mean?”
      
She twisted on the chair and looked at me sideways. “How come you jumped out of
bed so early, on a Sunday at that?”
      
I shrugged. “I just…have a lot of energy, I guess.”
       “A lot of energy? Humph.” She went back to drinking
her coffee. “And why do you keep giggling like this? You got the laughing
sickness or something?”
      
It just so happened that I chortled my reply, “I’m in a good mood. I’m feeling
great, that’s all.”
      
She still regarded me with suspicion. Taking a bite of a sausage, she swallowed
then