Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Eight
After a long agonising stay, we eventually left the hospital. I was there for a further 2 days, as doctor Solomon tried to figure out my scans. Unforunately, it remained a mystery to why I had collapsed in the first place. My bloods came back clear, my brain scan showed no signs of brain turmours and my sugar levels were normal.

My parents were beyond oblivious to having no answers from the doctors, but I persistantly told them not to worry. In all honesty, I did not want to find out anyway, I felt quite relieved to hear my scans come clear and there was nothing to explain the sudden fainting. After all, so many people faint for no particular reason, at least, that's what i've heard from people in the past. It all seemed quite easily ignored. It simply was not something I want to hear about any longer, and lucky enough Mum and Dad stopped discussing it.
"Right, what about that camping trip we discussed?" My Mother chirps, as we all dig into her homemade shepherd's pie.
"Yes," My Dad mumbles as he finishes chewing, "Mason, you in?"
"Yeah, I'm in..." Mason says lowly, busy playing with his food. I roll my eyes at him, it's as if he has barely matured.
"What about you, Alana?" My Mum glances over at me, raising her folk to her mouth.
"Yeah."
"R-really?" Mason stares at me in what seems like surprise, and I shrug in response, "Yeah, sure."
My Dad chuckles as he stuffs another takes another huge mouthfall of shepherd's pie. "That's settled then! Family holiday!"

Mason continues to stare at me, his cutlery limp in his hands. I've never seen him surprised before, but I'm not sure if it's a good type of surprise, or a bad type. Maybe he doesn't want me to come with them? I can never tell.
His eyes quickly revert back to my Father who is chuckling slightly and cracking another one of his new jokes. As I hear his deep chuckle, I can feel a ball of anger knotting within my stomach. I don't understand how he can act like everything is normal, act like there is no secret hanging over all our heads. That part makes me want to hate him, and I find myself wondering if they are even my parents too. What if Mason and I are BOTH adopted? I cannot trust anything my Mum or Dad say anymore.
"Alana, hello! Earth to Alana!" I hear my Dad say in his husky voice. I can hear the food being noshed in between each word he calls out across the dinner table, and I feel the overwhelming urge to through my folk at him. It does seem like a violent thought, but I can help but hate him in this moment.
"What..." I say, playing with the food on my plate. Due to the loss of my appetite, I have not eaten very much.
"How was University?" My Dad asks with a hint of irritation seeping the air between us.
"It was good."
"Now, Alana, don't act so blunt, please." My Mother speaks out, slowly reaching out for her glass of wine. Mason and I exchange a glance, we both know she is trying to calm the oncoming storm between Dad and I. A big part of me is looking forward to have it out with him, so to speak. I want my say. He doesn't want to hear it, but he knows what I think of them. I can tell.
Mason doesn't know the half of what is truly going on, but he let's out an innocent chuckle, as I eyes meet the ceiling. Mother does not seem impressed with our attitudes.

The rest of the dinner consists of meaningless talk that my Mother makes up, in order to steer our sour atmosphere in a more positive direction. I like to think of it more as a fake direction. She persistently behaves in such a fake stance, and I cannot help but ball my hands into fists under the table. I want nothing more than to just shout the truth out, and tell Mason right then and there in front of them. Why can't I spite them, get my own back? I hate how they don't understand how much this has hurt me.
My whole childhood and relation to Mason has been nothing but one big fat lie. I want to scream, shout it from the roof tops, maybe even tell all the neighbours, expose my lying faced parents for what they truly are...but I don't.
Somehow, I continue to sit here, biting my tongue, clenching my fists, exhaling, counting numbers in my head, anything to distract me from acting so recklessly. If I do what i truly want to do, not only will my parents never forgive me, but Mason will probably blame me for playing along with them.

Once the meal is all greedily consumed by Mason and Dad, Mum collects all the empty plates and scuttles off into the kitchen. I shortly follow, eager to get away from my Dad and Mason who begin blabbering on about some football game that they watched on television last night.
"Hey, i'll wash up." I say to Mum, walking over to the sink and pushing my sleeves up.
"Are you gonna explain to me what's going on with you and your brother?" She says, wiping her hands on the kitchen tea towel. I look up, my hands seeping into the warm water of the sink. "He's not my brother if yoy remember rightly..."
"Oh, Alana, please...don't start-"
"Don't start what!?" I snap, shocking her by my sudden outburst. I pause for a moment, remembering that Mason is just in the next room. "Look. Stop saying he's my brother. You know full well he is not. You don't get to tell me some big family truth, and then persist in refering to him as my brother."

"Alana, I'm sorry. I know i've hurt you-"
"No. Not just me. You're hurting Mason. You're hurting him with each second longer you keep up this act for." I continue to scrub the dishes, scrubbing out my anger at them. In a way, i'm visioning each plate as my Mother's imperfections. Maybe that's going a little far, but it's the only way I can handle my emotions right now.
"Act...?" My Mother's voice cracks.
"Oh come on Mum, let's be real for once alright? If he's not my biological brother, then he is not your son. As you state, he was left on your fucking doorstep like soemthing out of fucking Disney." My words grow harsher with each breath. For once, I am not feeling an ounce of guilt. My Mother needs to hear this, because I cannot keep lying to Mason.

"How can you say that?" She gasps. "I have been LIKE a Mother to him! I was all he had!"
I scoff, placing a third clean dish onto the draining board. "You may have stepped in as a Mother, but you are in no way a role model. What is he going to think when he realises you've done nothing but lie to him for years."
"He never asked so there was no lie to tell."
I groan, placing the fourth cleaned dish on the draining board and pulling the plug. "Ok, well kept him under false pretences then. I mean, when are you actually gonna tell him, Mum? When!?"

"Tell me what?"

I jump, the bubbles from the sink flying in the air. When I look over my shoulder, Mason is stood in the kitchen door way, glancing between Mum and I.