by Zart , Lindy
The kitchen is spacious, painted an apple red with white cabinets and wood floor. Some of my best memories took place in this room; cooking with Dad, food experiments with Aidan, baking cookies with Lily. That all became less frequent as the years went by. It saddens me. I want that little bit of happiness in this house back.
“What’s going on?” I demand, trying not to look at my mom. Her face is swollen and her eyes are red. With every year that passes she appears to age about five.
“Your dad was just telling me how the three of you are going to play basketball. Good for the three of you. Glad you’re such a team,” she says sarcastically, clutching a coffee mug between her hands.
“Your mom is feeling left out, even though she doesn’t play basketball, and she’s usually still in bed at this time anyway,” my dad says, glaring at his wife.
“That’s a stupid thing to argue about and Aidan can hear you.” I point to the stairs. “Maybe you should think about him the next time you decide to shout at each other over something so ridiculous.” I’ve said this before and it didn’t help. Nor will it help now. That isn’t even what they’re really arguing about. They obviously hate each other and bicker about anything.
I shift my jaw back and forth, wanting to race up the stairs, grab my brother, and get the hell out of this place and never come back. I eye the coffee mug as my mom lifts it to her lips. I know it’s laced with whatever liquor she found first. She freezes when she sees me watching her, looking away with guilt etched into her washed-out features that used to be pretty.
“You guys ready?”
I turn to my dad. “Uh…can we postpone it about an hour? Lily and I are going to take Aidan out for breakfast.”
He frowns slightly, probably at the thought of being left alone in the house with his wife. “Sure.”
“Grayson, I thought maybe we could do something later today? After you play ball with your dad, I mean.” A glint of hope makes my mom’s dull blue eyes almost shine.
“Wouldn’t you rather just drink?”
Her face falls at the same time my dad says warningly, “Grayson.”
I swing around to glare at him. “What? It’s not like it isn’t true.”
Aidan stumbles down the stairs, edging warily into the kitchen. His big brown eyes go from my dad to my mom to me. I set my features as blank as I can and offer a small smile. His shoulders relax.
“Hi, honey,” my mom says, moving to hug him.
She doesn’t try to hug me anymore. The last time she attempted it she was drunk and I flung her arm away. She hasn’t tried since so I guess she was lucid enough to remember the incident. That was three years ago.
“Ready, Aidan?” My voice is cooler than I mean it to be, but Aidan doesn’t seem to notice. He leaves my mom’s arms and moves to the door, waving to our dad before walking through the door.
I follow him out.
I don’t know all the details of my mother and father’s union. I know they met, obviously had sex, and she became pregnant with me. I know they thought the right thing to do was to get married. I know they were wrong. Whether they ever really loved each other, whether they love each even a little bit at all, is what I don’t know.
I know my father works as an accountant and I know my mom used to work as a beautician, but never went back after having Aidan. I know any kind of work is beyond her now at this point. She cannot function with or without her booze.
Logically I know I shouldn’t hate myself. I hate my mom, but I still hate myself a little. If it wasn’t for me, maybe they wouldn’t have married and maybe she wouldn’t be a drunk and maybe Aidan wouldn’t be so sad all the time and maybe everyone would be happier. Except for me, because I wouldn’t exist. I was the mistake, the oops, the thing that changed everything for the worse.
I swear Lily knows exactly what I’m thinking because the first words she says to me are, “Stop it. Right now.”
She’s got on skinny jeans, a long gray sweater, and pink and blue polka dot shoes that look like ballet slippers. I stare at her shoes, trying to determine what exactly they are, when Lily yanks me to her and pulls me into her arms. I hug her to me, inhaling her strawberry-scented hair, and briefly close my eyes. Each hug of hers is a little piece of me given back to myself.
“Gross,” Aidan quips from behind us.
Lily laughs, dropping her arms from me. “I think you need a hug too, Aidan.” She leans down and hugs Aidan, messing up his hair as she straightens.
Aidan doesn’t say anything, but his eyes are shining as we get into my car.
***
“They don’t have asparagus,” I tell Lily, making a sad face as I set the menu down on the red and white-checkered vinyl tablecloth.
“Ha ha, funny.”
We’re sitting in a red vinyl booth at Red Rooster Diner. Red seems to be the theme, along with roosters, which explains the name. It’s an inexpensive restaurant that has a slightly worn, but homey look to it. The seats have cracks in the vinyl and the walls are faded red and white-striped. The smell of coffee and onions and bacon permeate through the small room, somehow enticing all mixed together as they are.
“I don’t like asparagus,” Aidan says across the booth.
“You’re in luck then.”
“Me either, buddy, me either,” Lily tells him. “We non-lovers of asparagus have got to stick together, right?”
“Right.” Aidan nods; high-fiving the hand Lily lifts to him.
I look from Aidan to Lily. “I pity the day you two realize you could have been way cooler had you only liked asparagus.”
Lily snorts. “That day shall never come, FYI.”
“What’s ‘FYI’ mean?” Aidan asks, slurping chocolate milk through a straw.
“Frogs yawn, incidentally,” I spout off, those the first words that come to mind.
Lily rolls her eyes at me, turning to Aidan. “For your information.”
“Your eyes are so close to being stuck like that it isn’t funny. One more roll of the eyes and you’re done for, I know it.” I take a sip of my coffee, winking at her when she scowls at me.
The waitress, a fifty-ish lady with an overabundance of curves and short curly brown hair, stops at the booth. She’s wearing a customary Red Rooster Diner tee shirt and black pants. Her name is Sally and she’s worked here as long as I have lived in Fennimore.
“Ready to order, kiddos?”
“What do you want?” Lily asks Aidan, bumping him with her arm.
Aidan’s face turns red and he looks at Lily, silently asking for help. He is terribly shy with people he doesn’t know well, namely anyone but my parents and me, and outside of our house, Lily.
“Whisper it to me,” she encourages, tipping her head toward him. My heart clenches as I watch them; the two people I love most.
Aidan puts his hand to her ear. Sally raises an eyebrow at me. I shrug. If that’s how Aidan wants to order, then that’s how he’ll order.
“Pancakes,” Lily says definitively when Aidan sits back. “And an orange, just to balance it out.” She smiles at me and my stomach swoops.
“I don’t want an orange,” Aidan denies.
“I’ll eat the orange. But maybe you can help me eat it if I get too full?”
He thinks about this, slowly nodding. “Okay.”
The power of this female over the Lee boys is phenomenal, I think, shaking my head when Lily laughs.
We finish ordering and Sally takes the menus away.
“Have you written anything lately?” Lily asks, trying to appear casual, but ruining it by the eager gleam in her eyes.
I rub the back of my head and look at the table. “Not lately, no,” I lie. I lie because the last song I wrote is one I can’t share with anyone, not even Lily—especially not Lily.
“You’re lying.” My eyes fly to her face. Lily shrugs. “You should know by now not to even try it. I mean, sometimes I forget when you’re lying to me because the words you say make me so blindingly furious, but I tot
ally know you’re lying right now. I just have to separate my brain from my emotions to focus on what you’re saying to realize it. Like I know you—“
“Okay. You’re right. I lied,” I hurriedly cut in, not wanting Lily to list all the ways I’ve recently lied to her in front of my little brother.
Aidan’s mouth is hanging open. “You lie? To Lily?”
“I know. He should be stoned for committing such atrocious acts.” Lily glares at me across the booth, kicking my leg beneath it.
I don’t take my eyes from Lily’s as I answer, “Sometimes, Aidan, you have to lie to people, not because you want to hurt them, but because if you don’t lie, they will ultimately be hurt more.”
Lily’s eyes widen. She ducks her head and when she raises it, there are tears shining in her eyes as she says, “Sometimes, Aidan, no matter how much it hurts, people need to know the truth.”
“Fair enough,” I say evenly, my eyes not leaving hers. In them I see confliction, sorrow, and something I do not want to see, so I force my eyes away, swallowing thickly.
“I’m going to wear something slutty tonight,” she announces.
I choke on my coffee, reaching for the glass of water and gulping some down. “What?” I croak, blinking my burning eyes.
“She said she’s going to wear something slutty tonight,” Aidan helpfully supplies.
I give Aidan a glower before turning it on Lily. She looks innocently back. “First of all, you don’t own slutty clothes, and second of all, why would you say that? Why would you do that?”
“I’m being truthful.” Lily shrugs, smiling at Sally as she sets a plate of eggs, bacon, and hash browns with a peeled orange on a smaller plate before her.
“That’s not funny,” I snap, stabbing my scrambled eggs with a fork. They’re hot and burn my tongue, but I stoically chew them up and swallow before taking a drink of water.
“I wasn’t joking.”
“Why?” I repeat angrily.
I kind of have the feeling Lily has been doing things she wouldn’t normally do just to push me. I don’t know why and I don’t know what she’s hoping to accomplish by it, other than making me severely pissed off.
She shrugs again and I grind my teeth together. “I feel like trying something new,” is her cryptic response.
“You want to try something new? Eat asparagus.” I take a particularly hard bite out of my buttered toast and bite my lip, cursing at the sharp pain.
Aidan, a chunk of dark hair sticking up from the side of his head like a wing and syrup on his face, repeats questioningly, “Asshat?”
“Don’t repeat what I say,” I tell him darkly.
“If it’s something I can’t repeat, then why would you say it?” he asks, frowning.
“Yeah.” Lily crosses her arms over her chest, and as always when the three of us are together, it’s them against me. I should be used to it by now, but it’s still really annoying. “Why would you say something like that in front of your brother if you didn’t want him repeating it?”
My face tightens. “Like you saying you’re going to wear slutty clothes tonight? Great thing for an eleven-year old to hear.”
Lily shifts uncomfortably, her face reddening. “Yeah. Shouldn’t have said that,” she mumbles.
“It’s okay, Lily.” Aidan pats her arm.
She smiles down at him. “Thanks, buddy.”
I growl; suddenly irritated beyond belief. “I’ll be outside.” I jump to my feet.
“You didn’t eat,” she points out.
“Not hungry,” I bite out, throwing two twenties on the table and storming for the door. I shove it open and let it slam behind me.
I stand on the sidewalk, hands on hips, and stare at the copse of trees across the street, not really seeing them. Instead I am seeing my security ripped from me. What the fuck is going on? I swipe a hand through my hair, unbearable pressure in my chest. It grows daily, and eventually, it will burst. I’m scared to think about what will happen then. I’ll probably have a nervous breakdown. I snort, shaking my head.
The door opens behind me and three Styrofoam boxes are smashed against my chest. I grab them before they fall to the ground, my gaze meeting disturbingly dark blue eyes—angry blue eyes. Two twenty-dollar bills are dropped before my face, landing on the boxes.
“I said it was my treat, although it really wasn’t a treat at all.” Lily whirls on her heel and stomps for the car, Aidan quietly following behind her.
We don’t speak on the drive back, and as soon as I stop the car she jumps from it and strides for her house. I watch her in misery; staring at the door long after she’s gone through it, not moving until Aidan says something. I drive around the block to our house and park along the curb. I turn the engine off, my hand loosely gripping the keys still in the ignition.
“Are we still playing basketball?” Aidan’s voice is already disappointed, like he knows I’m going to say no.
I glance at him in the rearview mirror. “Of course we are. Go tell Dad we’re ready. I’ll be right in.”
As soon as Aidan leaves I thump the back of my head against the headrest and close my eyes, a sickening feeling swirling around in my stomach. I have to do something before things are irrevocably altered in an unacceptable way. Only I don’t know how to fix things. I never should have kissed her. I never should have done a lot of things. I punch the steering wheel and the pain in my knuckles is an unlikely relief. I just want things to be the way they used to be and I know I’m longing for the impossible. So make the present as good as it can be. Right. Okay. Quest on for blissful happiness in the present course of my life. Good luck with that.
It’s pretty sad when I can’t even fool myself.
Chapter 9
I stare at my latest creation as I sit on my bed, waiting to go to work. The paper is worn and slightly wrinkled, showing any who happen to see it just how pathetic I am—mooning over a girl I can never have. I begin to softly sing.
I never paid attention to them before.
I never knew the different names.
And this isn’t a sappy love song, but this is a song about flowers. And this isn’t a song about flowers, but this is a song about Beauty.
I never cared to gaze at them.
I never wanted to buy them for anyone.
And this isn’t a sappy love song, but this is a song about flowers. And this isn’t a song about flowers, but this is a song about Purity.
I never cared how good they smelled.
I never knew how pretty they were.
And this isn’t a sappy love song, but this is a song about flowers. And this isn’t a song about flowers, but this is a song about Love.
I never wanted to do a lot of things, but I always paid attention to her. I never knew all their many different names, but I always knew hers.
And this isn’t a sappy love song, but this is a song about flowers. And this isn’t a song about flowers, but this is a song about Lilies.
I always saw her, and only without her was I unfinished.
And this isn’t a sappy love song, but this is a song about flowers. And this isn’t a song about flowers, but this is a song about Lilies.
And this isn’t a sappy love song, but this is a song about a flower. And this isn’t a song about a flower, but this is a song about a Lily.
I swallow thickly and set the paper beside me on the bed. I am such a lovesick fool, but luckily only where Lily is concerned and luckily I’m the only one who knows it. Well, almost. Ana knows. Garrett has probably guessed, along with Ben. I place my elbows on my knees and hold my head, knocking my glasses askew and not caring. A tap on the door has me straightening and quickly shoving the paper under my pillow. I watch as the door opens.
My mom’s hair is tamed now and it is obvious she’s had a shower. The scent of expensive perfume tickles my senses. She’s wearing white slacks and a pale pink top, looking younger and brighter than this morning.
The hesitancy she feels is clear to see on her
face that so closely resembles mine. You have to really look to see it because we share the same coloring, but our actual features aren’t so similar. Most people don’t look that hard. But I do. I stare at my reflection so often just to find the ways our faces aren’t alike.
“Hi, Grayson.”
“What do you want, Mom?” I ask, standing. I begin straightening my already spotless room, not wanting to look at her for too long. I pick up the dark blue jacket I plan on wearing to work, fiddling with the zipper of it, my eyes watching my fingers move.
“I…I heard you singing. That’s a beautiful song. Did you write it?”
I glance at her sharply. Her expression is hopeful, conviction taking a place next to the hope in her pale blue eyes. She is sober now, but within a few hours, she won’t be. This person in my room right now—this person is not the reality. This is the exception. I cannot allow myself to respond to a person who doesn’t really exist.
“Yeah. Thanks,” I say shortly.
She nods, twisting the gold ring around the finger of her left hand. That ring and all it stands for is a sham, a lie.
“I really hope you decide to pursue your love of music. You’re so talented.” My mom moves to touch my hair and I jerk back. Her hand drops, her expression along with it.
I rotate my shoulders, avoiding her eyes as I say, “Come on, Mom, like you really care.”
She blinks her eyes against the spark of pain I see in them. “I do, Grayson. How can you say I don’t?” My mom looks away, knowing I’m not going to answer that. “I know…I know that…I have…problems, but—but I do care about you, Grayson. I do love you. I want you to be happy. You’re never happy anymore.”
“Anymore? As in, I used to be?” I shove my arms through the sleeves of my jacket and zip it up. I grab my car keys off the dresser and straighten my glasses. “Who are you trying to kid? You don’t care how happy any of us are or aren’t. If you did, you wouldn’t drink your life away. You’d get help or just leave or something. You realize we’re all suffering because of your…problem…don’t you?” I say bitingly.