The Game That Breaks Us (Us 3)

I start my car and my phone hooks up to the Bluetooth.

“Call Mom,” I say.

“Calling Mona.”

“No. Call Mom,” I yell at the stupid piece of shit.

“Calling Papa John’s.”

“Why the fuck is Papa John’s in my phone?” I mutter as it starts ringing. “Shit,” I curse and quickly end the call. I end up dialing my mom myself.

“Hello? Bennett? Where are you?”

“I’m on my way, Mom,” I tell her, speeding down the highway.

“Don’t speed.”

I eye my speedometer and back it off. “I’m not.”

“Don’t you know you can’t lie to your mother, Bennett?”

I rub the back of my hand. “Yeah, I know.”

She laughs on the end. “We’ll see you soon. Sabrina’s coming too.”

“Great,” I say, sarcasm leaking into my tone.

“Be nice,” she warns.

“I’m always nice.”

“Mmhmm,” she hums. “We’ll see you soon.”

I love my sister, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes she can be a judgmental thorn in my side and with the shit storm that’s my life right now I don’t need to hear it from her too. Right now, what I need is my family on my side.

There’s barely any traffic since it’s so early, and a Saturday at that, so I make it to the diner only two minutes late.

I head inside and back to the booth that my mom always chooses. I spot her and my dad on one side and she waves, bouncing in her seat. She’s always so happy to see me, and it makes me feel like an ass for not visiting more when I live so close.

“Where’s Bina?” I ask, sliding in the booth.

When I was little, I couldn’t say Sabrina to save myself and called her Bina. The name has stuck through the years. She says she hates it, but I know she secretly loves it.

“She’s coming,” my mom says, picking up her menu.

I don’t know why she even bothers looking at the thing; she always ends up getting the same breakfast every time. The Denver Omelet with hash browns on the side. If my mom’s anything, it’s predictable.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite family,” the waitress, Jolene, says cheerily. She’s older, probably in her sixties, and has been working here since I was a little boy. She always waits on us when we come here and knows our order by heart. “The usual?”

“You know it.” I slide my menu over to the edge of the table, and she picks it up.

My mom and dad hand over their menus as well when the bell above the door chimes.

“I’m here!” Sabrina waves enthusiastically, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair. Sabrina and I look a lot alike, although her hair has more blonde while mine has just a bit more red. We both have freckles covering our arms and noses and the same hazel eyes. There is no mistaking us as siblings, that’s for sure.

“Bina!” I call, throwing my arms out.

She rolls her eyes and I laugh. “Hey, Bennie,” she retorts.