Mr.Right

"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.

The depths of depression are the worst. You feel as though you're in a wilderness which you can't escape. It completely overtakes you and makes you feel like you won't ever be happy again. During this stage, you will have obsessive and racing thoughts that are debilitating in nature. These thoughts will further perpetuate the depression, making you quite desperate. Desperate to just end it all.

It's almost midnight and I'm sitting in front of my laptop, surfing through the internet, when my eyes fall on my Skype app. I let my cursor wander on it before clicking on 'open'.

I pause for a little bit, wondering who to call. One of my two brothers, maybe? Definitely not Jack - he's too busy with college and only has time when he's on holiday - which brings me to Garret. My cheeks form a small smile as I click on his profile, and his chat window pops up.

I comb my hair with my fingers and run a hand down my face so I wouldn't look like I've been crying for five days.

"Hey, little fella!"

Garett's face pops on the screen and I slam a hand over my mouth so I don't let out a wheeze of laughter.

He looks utterly nuts.

There's red lipstick drawn very badly over his lips and a baby's flower-patterned hat is on his head, with a rope tied under his chin to prevent it from falling off.

"You didn't tell me you got a new job as a clown," I say, still trying not to laugh at his face.

"Baby Lily felt generous today and said that I can wear one of her hats." He adjusts the hat on his head. "I can't take it off or she'll throw a tantrum. Watch."

He loosens the hat from his head and immediately, I hear an ear-splitting cry from behind him.

"Wear the damn hat back!" I slap a hand to my ears to block out the sound and he sighs and puts it back on. "Are you going to explain why you have lipstick on?"

"No." Garret presses a hand to his temples and I can tell he's stressed-out. He's aged well through the years and I sometimes tease him about getting grey hair or turning bald.

Garret married at the early age of twenty-four and began producing babies a year later. How he managed to have four kids in the span of five years, I still don't understand.

His first set of children were twins. Male twins. And he didn't have a problem with it, until his wife gave birth to another set of twins. Who were both girls.

He's terrified she's going to give birth to quadruplets the next time she has a baby, and I'm also terrified for him. I wouldn't want to imagine what kind of state their house would be in, if that happened. "So what's up with you?" he asks and I tense a bit, a bit scared that he knows I've been crying.

"Oh. You know... Same old, same old."

"Bullcrap. That's utter Bullcrap," Garrett rests his chin on his hands. "I may not get to see you everyday but I know when you've been crying your ice-cream-filled lungs out. So I'm going to ask again, What's up with you?"

"Fine," I sigh, defeated. "You caught me. I'm not okay."

"I can see it, that's why I'm asking you. Why? Who hurt you? Whose house should I be burning?"

A chuckle escapes my lips. If only he knew: the person's house already caught fire.

"I broke it off with Tony," I finally say.

"Why?"

"I found out that he cheated."

Garrett's pupils dilate as he takes the information in. "That bastard!" he says finally. "I knew something like this would happen. Are you all right?"

"Yeah I'm fine." I can't quite stop the sarcasm from invading. "That's why my eyes are so swollen and red."

"Look, he doesn't deserve you if he's-" He catches sight of something out of the corner of his eyes and whips his head around. "Put on your clothes Luke, and stop running around in your underwear!" Garrett yells at someone in the background and I hear a faint voice reply.

"But I don't want to."

"It's called 'underwear' for a reason. You wear it under your cloth."

I flinch at the harshness of his tone.

"Why do you have to be so loud?" I ask.

"I'm a Father of four kids, April. I have to open my mouth and let loud words fly out."

I'm about to say something else when he cuts me off and focuses his attention in the other room. "Uh... I have to go. I think one of the twins is making paper planes out of one of my office files. Shoot! These kids will get me fired one day." He immediately ends the chat and I stare at myself in the reflection of the computer screen.

And once again, I'm left alone in solitude as the familiar feeling washes over me.

Loneliness. ☐☐☐☐☐☐