B E A S T O F B U R D E N
“So hot.”
“Too windy.”
“So
hot
.”
“Too
windy
.”
My sisters argue from their booster seats in the backseat of
my ancient Ford Explorer. The air conditioning hasn’t worked
since long before I acquired the title to this hunk of scrap
metal, so even though it’s too windy in the backseat for Caro-
line’s liking, Margaret wins this fight because it’s just too damn
hot without the windows open.
The twins’ cheeks are pink, I hope only flushed with the
heat. I’ll hear about it if they’re sunburned, which is nearly
impossible, given how often I applied the sunblock.
I roll down my window a few inches more.
“No, Josh. Too windy!”
I turn up the radio to drown out the sound of Caroline’s
protest. I’m almost home. My mother should be home soon.
Thank the fucking lord.
The sooner she’s home, the sooner I’m out.
I love my sisters, of course, but that doesn’t mean I want
to spend every waking second with them. I mean, it’s not their
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