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MidReal Story
The Mates Series
Scenario:His mouth The life of Austin matice in East Durham new York so one day I was sitting in the chair in the living room with my mom and than I was walking to the kitchen and then here came Helen shook running her mouth again and talking and asking if I helped my mom with the house and I know that like always I say yes and I know that my dad was right there and he said that no he was playing video games as always and I looked at him and said I do help with the chores and as always they change the subject like always and then I have my girlfriend Kerry Elizabeth Willenbucher yelling at me about not texting her back so here I am just sitting here between her and the other people in this small town and I am just getting sick of it and I'm not going to take it anymore so it was late that night and I was making coffee and here comes my dad AGAIN runing his mouth and I have not heard from Kerry yet and I know that I'm crazy about it because of the situation and I know that I'm sitting on the couch with my nephews and watching YouTube videos on the TV and I know that I don't have a room when they are here but I know that I'm happy that they are here but it's hard to do any YouTube videos because they are loud and screaming and fighting with each other and I know that I get overwhelmed with this situation and I know that they are kids and I know that I'm just a grown up and I need patience but my mother fucking patient is worn thin and I don't know what the fuck to do with the situation because I don't want drama anymore but everyone is making it difficult
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Austin Matice
He is a young man living with his parents in East Durham, New York. He is frustrated, overwhelmed, and determined. Austin often feels undervalued by his parents, particularly his father, who he believes does not take him seriously. His life is complicated by his relationship with Kerry Elizabeth Willenbucher, whom he deeply cares for but struggles to communicate effectively with. He feels trapped in a challenging family dynamic and yearns for understanding and respect from his parents.
Austin's Dad
He is Austin's dismissive father figure. He is indifferent, sarcastic, and often unresponsive. The father in Austin's life frequently belittles him, failing to see value in the young man's thoughts and emotions. His lack of involvement and disrespect exacerbates Austin's feelings of being undervalued and contributes significantly to the tension in their household dynamics.
Austin's Mom
She is Austin’s mother who often avoids conflict. She is nurturing, passive, and accommodating. While she provides food and takes care of Austin’s needs when he visits, she rarely intervenes during arguments or tense situations between Austin and his father. Her avoidance of conflict creates an environment where tensions simmer but remain unaddressed, affecting Austin deeply.
I was sitting in the chair in the living room with my mom and than I was walking to the kitchen and here comes Helen again shook running her mouth and asking me if I helped my mom with the house and I know that like always I say yes and I know that my dad was right there and he said that no he was playing video games as always and I looked at him and said I do help with the chores and as always they change the subject like always.
I don’t know why they do that, but it’s getting old.
I am so sick of them doing that.
It was late that night and I was making coffee, and here comes my dad again running his mouth and saying that I don’t help out around the house.
I haven’t heard from Kerry yet, and I know it’s crazy, but I am still waiting to hear from her.
I don’t know what the fuck to do.
I am sitting on the couch with my nephews watching YouTube videos on the TV.
I don’t have a room when they are here, but I am happy they are there.
It’s hard to do any YouTube videos because they are loud and screaming at each other.
I get overwhelmed with this situation, but I know that they are kids, and I am just a grown-up who needs patience.
My motherfucking patience is worn thin, though.
I storm off the couch and walk into the kitchen.
I can hear them screaming and crying behind me, but I need to get away from them.
The fluorescent lights are buzzing above my head as I grip the edge of the counter.
I am trying to catch my breath and calm myself down.
I can hear my dad’s footsteps coming behind me.
He starts in again about the dishes piled up in the sink and how they are not washed.
His voice is getting louder, and I can feel my body shaking.
I turn around and look at him, but he is still running his mouth.
I turn back around and walk over to the coffee maker.
I start measuring out the coffee grounds into the filter.
The smell of coffee is helping to calm me down, but I can feel my hands shaking a little bit.
The kitchen's fluorescent lights are casting harsh shadows on the walls, and I can hear the hum of the refrigerator in the corner.
The sound of my dad's voice is getting louder as he stands behind me.
"You need to wash those dishes," he says, his voice rising above the sound of the refrigerator.
I nod my head and continue measuring out the coffee.
My fingers are fumbling with the coffee scoop, and I accidentally spill some of the grounds onto the counter.
"Look at that mess you're making," my dad says, stepping closer to me.
I can feel his breath on my neck as he leans over my shoulder.
I try to steady my hands, but they are shaking harder now.
The metal scoop clatters against the side of the coffee maker as I drop it onto the counter.
Suddenly, I hear a loud crash coming from the living room.
The kids are screaming and crying, and I can hear my mom trying to calm them down. My dad grabs me by the shoulder and spins me around to face him.
His eyes are narrowed and his face is red with anger.
"What are you doing?" he yells, his voice echoing off the walls of the kitchen.
"I'm making coffee," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Well, you're not doing a very good job," he snaps, gesturing towards the pile of coffee grounds on the counter.
I take a step back, trying to create some distance between us.
My heart is pounding in my chest, and I can feel my hands shaking even harder now.
The kids' screams from the living room are getting louder, and I can hear my mom yelling at them to be quiet.
My dad takes another step closer to me, his face inches from mine.
"You need to get your act together," he says, his voice low and menacing.
"I'm trying," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. The kitchen is small and cramped, and I feel like there's nowhere for me to go.
My dad's body is blocking the doorway, and I'm trapped between him and the counter.
The smell of coffee is still in the air, but it's no longer calming me down.
Instead, it's just adding to my anxiety as I try to figure out what to do next.
I look around for an escape route, but there isn't one.
I'm stuck here with my dad looming over me, his anger radiating off him in waves. Suddenly, I hear a loud crash coming from behind me.
I push past him, leaving the chaos behind as I step out into the night.
I lean against the porch railing, gripping the weathered wood until my knuckles turn white.
The autumn air bites at my exposed arms, and I realize I rushed out without a jacket.
Behind me, the kitchen light spills onto the wooden boards, and I can hear my dad's heavy footsteps pacing.
The kids' muffled crying filters through the walls.
My phone buzzes - a text from Kerry asking where I've been all day.
The screen blurs as my hands tremble.
I try counting breaths like my counselor taught me, but the air catches in my throat.
I lean against the railing and unlock my phone, Kerry's message still waiting.
My thumbs hover over the keyboard as Dad's heavy steps retreat inside.
The porch light flickers, casting shifting shadows across my screen.
Inside, the kids' cries fade to sniffles.
A car passes on the road, headlights briefly illuminating the yard where Helen's house looms next door.
My hands have stopped shaking enough to type.
I start and delete three different messages before finally tapping out "Can we meet? I need to talk."
Before I can second-guess myself, I hit send.
The message shows as delivered, then read.
A moment later, my phone buzzes again with Kerry's reply: "Of course. Where should we meet?"
I hesitate, glancing back at the house, then type, "The park by the old oak tree in 20 minutes?"
Kerry responds almost instantly, "I'll be there. Everything okay?"
I pace beneath the porch light, checking my phone every few seconds.
Through the window, I can see Dad standing by the sink, lecturing Mom about "enabling" me.
The kids have stopped crying and are probably settled with their tablets in front of a cartoon.
My hands still tremble as I pull on my jacket, which I find hanging by the door.
When I check my phone again, Kerry has sent another message: "Do you need me to come pick you up?"
I decline - the fifteen-minute walk to the park might clear my head a little.
As I step off the porch, Helen's porch light clicks on.
I take a deep breath and walk into the night, leaving the noise behind.