{"id":2376,"date":"2013-12-17T11:00:25","date_gmt":"2013-12-17T19:00:25","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/markreads.net\/reviews\/?p=2376"},"modified":"2013-12-15T18:52:03","modified_gmt":"2013-12-16T02:52:03","slug":"mark-reads-the-ocean-at-the-end-of-the-lane-chapter-3","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/markreads.net\/reviews\/2013\/12\/mark-reads-the-ocean-at-the-end-of-the-lane-chapter-3\/","title":{"rendered":"Mark Reads ‘The Ocean at the End of the Lane’: Chapter 3"},"content":{"rendered":"

In the third chapter of The Ocean at the End of the Lane<\/i>, a dream becomes real. Intrigued? Then it’s time for Mark to read The Ocean at the End of the Lane<\/i>.<\/p>\n

Chapter III<\/b><\/p>\n

The first time my mother disbelieved me, I was seven. My sister was four, and she took my old room. I had to move in with my brother, which was fine because we got along. Being twins, there were two sets of toys to play with, and if I got bored with my Lego set, my brother and I would switch. We liked to pretend to be each other, to try and trick our mom, but she never fell for it. It became a challenge.<\/p>\n

But sometimes, I resented not having a room to myself. It wasn’t because I didn’t like being around my brother. It just started to creep up on me. My brother and I would get one thing to share between us. We’d be referred to as a single unit. I wasn’t ever just Mark. It was Mark and<\/i> Michael. We couldn’t wear different outfits. And the more and more attention our sister got, the more it felt like my brother and I were just one person.<\/p>\n

So when I found myself in the old room, looking in the closet for one of my missing Hot Wheels, I wished that I didn’t have to dig through clothes, toys, and boxes full of things that weren’t mine. I knew my mother had left a few things behind because not everything of my brother’s and my stuff fit in our room, but she had simply told me to find the Tupperware full of cars myself.<\/p>\n

Having failed to do so, I was neatly stacking my sister’s stuff in the closet when something hard and metal smacked me in the back of my head. I whipped around to see my sister standing in the doorway, a smirk on her face. What did you do that for? I yelled at her. When I stood up, I stepped on the very car I was looking for. By the time I managed to stand up, my sister had already bolted, and I followed behind her.<\/p>\n

My mother was in the living room, watching Oprah, who was the first person I ever saw have a gay guest on their show, and I had this bizarre moment where I didn’t want<\/i> to interrupt Oprah, as if she would get mad that I interjected. My sister had climbed up onto the couch close to my mother, stealing glances around my mother at me, that devilish grin on her face again.<\/p>\n

“What do you want, Mark?”<\/p>\n

I hesitated. Mom, I started, she just threw a car at the back of my head and \u00e2\u20ac\u201c<\/p>\n

“No, she didn’t.”<\/p>\n

What?<\/p>\n

“She didn’t do that. She’s been here the whole time.”<\/p>\n

No, I countered, she was just in the room.<\/p>\n

“Are you calling me a liar?”<\/p>\n

I balked. I didn’t say anything. I just backed out of the living room, realizing the impossibility of what just happened. I couldn’t win.<\/p>\n

This wasn’t the last time I wouldn’t be believed. But it was the first one.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

Thoughts<\/b><\/p>\n