The Thirst Within

by Johi Jenkins

  With only a week to go before Spring Break, one night my uncle calls me to his study.

  “Tori?” I stop mid-stride on my way to the stairs after cleaning up my dinner dishes.

  The study is really just a little room with French doors off the living room that my uncle uses as an office. I’ve never been inside, and I’ve hardly seen it, because the French doors are lined with heavy drapes that allow my uncle total privacy when he wishes it.

  I enter the small office. Bookshelves line the wall that I came in from, and they’re filled with rows and rows of books that look very old. His computer sits on a large desk with an expensive-looking manager chair. The arrangement is such that he faces the door, the monitor light casting a blue glow over his face. There are two chairs on the opposite side of the desk, which gives me the feeling of entering the principal’s office.

  The whole room looks important, like a library, which I would never associate my uncle with. He’s just not a scholarly person in my opinion. It is a great room, and my uncle is undeserving of it.

  “Yes, Uncle?” I ask.

  He looks at his computer monitor while he addresses me. “Come here and take a seat.”

  Uh-oh. There was never a conversation that turned out amazing that started that way. I walk to the desk and take a seat across from him.

  “Yesterday I spoke with your aunt,” he begins, finally looking at me.

  He pauses, and I don’t say anything, waiting for him to tell me what he spoke about with June. But a second of silence later I realize he’s not talking about his wife. I quickly respond how I think he’d want me to.

  “My Aunt Marie? How is she doing?”

  “She’s doing alright. She says she feels a little lonely. It must be hard, with the passing of her husband. What was his name again?”

  “Antoine,” I say.

  “Antoine, yes. Well, anyway, she asked me to send you there for your spring break.”

  “Oh. Kay.” This takes some adjusting in my chair. The news is hard to swallow; I thought she hated the thought of me.

  “We arranged everything,” he says. “So I’m booking the flight for you. I need your birthday.” He looks at the screen again.

  Did I just hear that? I feel I’ve been slapped in the face. My aunt and uncle are making decisions for me, about me, behind my back, and I’m only finding out because the man doesn’t know my birthday. The fact that he doesn’t know my birthday also stings a little, but if it weren’t for that he would’ve purchased the tickets and shipped me out of here without even asking me. I don’t know why I’m surprised, though. I should never expect anything from any of them.

  “It’s October 31st, 1995. What do you need it for?” I’ve never traveled by air before. I don’t know what they need.

  “I don’t really know. It’s just asking me for it.” He inputs the date and continues. Usually people comment about me being born on Halloween, but I don’t think it even registers in his mind. He just proceeds with the booking.

  I haven’t even seen the schedule. I lean forward trying to see his screen, which is facing him and away from me.

  “What days am I going?” I ask him.

  “Saturday, March 30th…” he reads out loud. “To… Sunday, April 7.”

  “Saturday to Sunday? But that’s the whole week I have off. I can’t, Uncle! I have homework to do!”

  “Of course. Don’t worry, she’s not going to make you do chores or anything like that. She has to know you need time to do your school work. I just assumed you’d take your books and do it over there.”

  “But… what about work? I don’t know if I have that much PTO, even….”

  I want to cry. No one asked me what I wanted, and they’re handing me out like I’m four again. When my parents died my relatives did with me as they pleased—didn’t ask who I wanted to live with. It was okay then; they knew better than me. But now? This? It’s my Spring Break!

  “Don’t worry about work. It’s only part-time, right? They won’t give you a hard time.”

  “It’s not about them firing me. I do need to work to earn money and pay my cell phone”—he doesn’t need to know about Thierry’s generous contribution to my account—“and eat while I’m there.”

  Uncle Roland’s expression softens as though realizing that I’m a person with needs for the first time. He says, “I was going to send you over there with some money, Tori, so that you could buy your food and anything else you need. But now that you mention it, I’ll add whatever you usually make in the week.”

  Oh. That’s kinda sweet of him. “Really? You don’t have to,” I tell him, more out of habit than because I really think so. In fact, I think he should have to.

  “No, Tori, none of that. I want you to have a good time, and not to have to worry about losing money while you visit your aunt.”

  “Thanks, Uncle. Really.” I can’t refuse this unparalleled display of attention.

  “She really wants this, Tori. You’ll make her day. Well, her entire week. You know, ever since you came here, we’ve become this huge family. Having so many people around, I can’t imagine being alone like she is. So I feel sorry for her. I’m glad you’re going.”

  “Sure,” I say, conflicted. On the one hand, he did say a few nice things, but on the other hand, he didn’t give me a choice. I guess if he was going to make me go no matter what, at least he’s sending me off properly. “I’ll go. But… hey, but can I at least come back Friday instead of Sunday? I was hoping to do something with my friend from school.”

  He considers it for a second. “Okay, I guess. Your aunt won’t mind too much. Let me change the date here,” he says, and fiddles with his screen. “Oh! Look at that. The same price, too.”

  “Thanks, Uncle,” I say.

  “Thanks for doing this, Tori,” he says. Aha. He acknowledges that I’m doing this as a favor to someone.

  “Sure,” I say, and keep my thoughts safely nonverbal.

  I call Thierry when I go to my room and explain that I found out that I’m scheduled to visit my Aunt Marie. That my aunt and uncle arranged everything before they even asked me.

  “I’m sorry, Tor,” he says. “If you want, I’ll follow you there and meet you secretly at night after your aunt goes to sleep.”

  I laugh. “That would be awesome. But no, I won’t make you go to Galena, Ill,” I say. I call Illinois “Ill” for its abbreviation, IL. In my mind it sounds more appropriate. “I can’t wish that on anyone.”

  Really, it’s my own damn fault for not telling my new family that I have a boyfriend. Weird as they are, they might have at least asked me if I had plans. I could have used teenager angst as a weapon. But no, now my only excuses are work and school.

  ***

  The last Friday in March I say goodbye to Kerin at school. She’s a little sad, I can tell, because we had said we’d go out and hang out together, which we haven’t done since that fateful Mardi Gras.

  “At least you have Lynn,” I say, a half-assed attempt to cheer her up. I’m not a fan of Lynn, but she does pretend to be Kerin’s friend, so I put up with her.

  “Pfff. Lynn,” she replies. “Lynn’s not my favorite person right now.”

  Aww. I may just have been upgraded to someone’s best friend and didn’t even know.

  I’ve been keeping good with my internal promise to show Kerin that I can be incredibly tolerant, but she has not said anything too personal to me. At least verbally. I have noticed that she’s closer to me than before. We talk frequently after school, and at school I know she spends more time with me than with that uptight bitch Lynn.

  “Is Aiden coming to town for Spring Break?” I ask her. Aiden was pretty cool.

  “Oh, he is. Which reminds me, now I’m actually glad you’re going out of town.”

  “What? Why?” Oh crap, don’t tell me he hates me because of Mardi Gras. Or that he loves me because of Mardi Gras. I don’t know which one’s worse.

  “He kept giving us a hard time at Mardi
Gras, telling us to not flirt with his friends, right? Billy and Whatever. The other guy.”

  “Mike?”

  “Oh! Yeah, no. Mark. Mark, the ugly one.”

  I laugh. “He wasn’t that ugly. He was just very… non-desirable.”

  “Definitely. So Aiden’s all, ‘It’s awkward if you end up sleeping with my friends’—as if, yuck—and then he made you also stay away from them, but then I found out it was because Mark was interested in you, and Aiden didn’t want him to go out with you.”

  “Uh… thank you, Aiden?” I say. I don’t know what’s so bad about Aiden keeping Mark away from me.

  “No, so the other day Aiden called to say he was coming to Nola for Spring Break and asked me if you were free. I guess he liked you.”

  My mouth and brow instantly pucker into a dismayed expression. “What?”

  “I know, right? So I told him you were seeing a guy.”

  “Thanks, Kerin. I’m sorry about Aiden. I guess. I hope he doesn’t really like me.”

  “Who knows?” She shrugs. “Whatever the case, I think he might’ve lied about us not flirting with his buddies just so that he could ask you out someday.”

  “Well, let’s see if Thierry sticks around.”

  “Why wouldn’t he?”

  “Are you kidding me? I have like zero power over him. And he’s so clearly out of my league.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short too fast, Tori.” She says with an encouraging smile. “You’re pretty, you’re fun, and c’mon, you’re an orphan. How hot is that?”

  I laugh and push her away. Hot orphans.

  That’s gotta be a first.

  ***

  It’s only when I’m seated waiting for the plane to take off that I notice mostly everyone is with someone, and I feel terribly lonely. This is my first flight ever and I’m experiencing it alone. I think of Thierry the whole duration of the flight while I stare out the window.

  When we land in Chicago and exit the plane, before I’m even fully exposed to the weather, I already feel the cold. I curse, and realize I never acknowledged to myself that I love New Orleans weather. This cold grayness is depressing. It certainly doesn’t feel like spring. Or a break, for that matter, since I’m banished to my aunt’s house against my will.

  I maneuver the airport following really vague directions to reach a van operated by what has to be the smallest shuttle service company in the world. I have to wait for an hour for the van, and by then, there are only four passengers total. This little van takes me to BFE, also known as Galena, Illinois. By the time I make it to Galena, three hours later, I swear off coming to see my aunt ever again.

  But when I get off the shuttle and she hugs me warmly, I feel a lot of my annoyance recede. She seems so genuinely happy to see me. How am I, an orphan, supposed to resist that level of fondness from a relative? My only living aunt, no less.

  “Dearest Tori,” she says, hugging me like she loves me. The sincerity of her hug fills me with a new emotion, and I have this sudden, terrible urge to cry. And immediately I feel like punching my needy orphan heart in the face. My brain reminds me that this sweet lady kicked me out of her house once before.

  “Hello, Aunt Marie,” I say, almost gasping for air, she’s choking me that much.

  I manage to survive the hug, and she drives me back to the house that was my home for that one week between Christmas and New Year’s. I bring up my stuff inside, to the same bedroom with the same bed that my dead uncle tried to share with me that one night he was alive.

  Luckily Aunt Marie chats about life in Galena and the weather and for a while doesn’t even mention my dead uncle. It’s late, and cold, so she offers me hot chocolate. The magic liquid fills me with warmth and a foolish desire to repeat this moment every night it’s cold outside. As we chat in the living room rocking chairs, she’s suddenly everything that I want in a motherly figure.

  “How was your first flight?” She asks me.

  “Not bad. I had such low expectations that it felt relatively painless.”

  “That’s good. And how are things with the Harris?”

  “The Harrises,” I correct her automatically, laughing.

  “You’re putting me on.”

  “No, it’s the Harrises,” I insist. “Well, according to Fiona.”

  “Fiona…. That’s your uncle’s wife’s daughter, right?”

  “Yeah. June’s daughter.”

  “How are you two getting along?” There is a little concern in her voice. I can’t tell if it’s concern for Fiona hating me or for Fiona and me getting along.

  “We’re okay. We’re not best friends, but she already had two best friends, so I couldn’t really fit in there.”

  “That’s a pity. But at least you get along. And the rest of them? The Harrises,” she says, and gives me a loving smile.

  “They’re actually okay,” I say. Two months ago I would’ve said I hated them, and explain every single nuance that they’ve done to me to make me feel unwelcome ever since I moved in with them. But after Thierry’s insight into their feelings, I have begun to grow a little warmer towards them. Call it reciprocating; love reflecting love. It’s not that I love them, but I don’t hate them, either. They’re starting to grow on me, even if they don’t know it.

  “It must be hard, though, since you didn’t grow up with them,” Aunt Marie says. “I mean, Lisa’s brother never even laid eyes on you. Never cared to visit you.”

  I don’t see where she’s going with this. It’s all true; but what does it matter now? It’s not like I had a choice.

  “I guess,” I say. “But at least he took me in. Uncle Roland was the only one I had left. He could’ve said no, I suppose, but he agreed. That’s gotta count for something.”

  She suddenly frowns and looks down. A little sob escapes her. When she looks up again her eyes are wet with tears.

  “Aunt Marie! What’s wrong?” I jump to her.

  “I’m so sorry, baby,” she dabs tears from her eyes. “I should’ve kept you. But I was so shocked. I was aggrieved; you don’t know how… hopeless… I felt.”

  Oh. It didn’t even occur to me that she felt repentant for sending me off to Uncle Roland. Here I thought that by defending Uncle Roland I’d be doing her a favor; making her think that it was the right decision to send me away; or at least, not a cruel decision like I once thought it was. But I guess her own conscience yelled at her when I said Uncle Roland was the only one I had left. Truthfully, I have Uncle Roland and Aunt Marie. My mom and dad’s siblings. Relatives.

  “Aw, Aunt Marie, don’t feel bad. Of course it was the hardest time for you. You had to let me go then; I would’ve only been a hindrance to you if I stayed,” I try to console her.

  “A hindrance! No, you would’ve been just what I needed. I’ve been so alone, Tori. More so than I can bear…. Losing Mom and then Tony, and then you. Or rather, knowing that I could have had you, but I sent you away. It’s killing me,” she says, a little dramatically.

  Or is she serious? Oh dear God. I hope she’s not really dying. And not because she’d be dying, but because I’d have to move back here to take care of her.

  “I’ll call you more frequently,” I promise her. Truthfully, it’s an easy promise to keep; I only have to call her once, since I’ve never called her in my life.

  She doesn’t answer and is now dabbing at her eyes frantically.

  “… and I’ll visit you more often too,” I add. “Maybe I’ll spend another week here during the summer.” I hate the promise because I don’t really have deep-rooted, tender feelings towards my aunt in BFE, Ill. I have felt some feelings in the last hour, but not enough to overcome the very tender feelings I do already have for a certain vampire in New Orleans. It’s easy to see a problem here.

  Her eyes light up a little bit. “A week? You can stay the whole summer!”

  My smile freezes in my face as I feel like I’ve been slapped by gooey aunt love. I’m horrified, but I don’t want to hurt her feelings
. I rack my brain for excuses while she goes on and on about family and missing me terribly and how Uncle Roland got such a sweet end of the deal.

  The only excuse I come up with is a bitter but you kicked me out!

  “I’ll see what I can do, Aunt Marie,” I say vaguely. “I mean, I do want to get a full-time job during the summer so that I can start saving money for college.”

  Responsibility and education; no one can argue that.

  Or so I thought.

  “Oh, you’ll have Matt’s share of Mom and Dad’s estate this year when you turn eighteen.” Matt is my dead father, Matthew Green. “The house was sold for a good price; they didn’t even have a mortgage anymore.”

  “Nana’s house was sold?” This piece of news takes me by surprise. The house I grew up in, sold. Nobody told me. I don’t know why this bothers me. I should’ve seen it coming.

  “Well, it’s going to. We have an accepted offer. The closing is at the end of April.”

  “And why am I getting part of the inheritance?” I know the answer. Duh, I’m officially my father’s successor. But I want her to admit it. I’m annoyed that if I’m really to inherit, I wasn’t consulted in this sale.

  “Why, you’re getting your father’s share,” she says, just like I wanted her to, but it doesn’t make me feel any better like I thought it would. “While you’re underage and I have that power of attorney, you know, the one that Mom granted me while she was alive, I’ve been making the decisions for Matt—for you—and me. But you’re as equal as I am in the split. So, you can use that money to pay for school.”

  Money. Wow.

  I think of all the times I’ve wanted to buy new clothes and I haven’t, because I have so little money. I wanted a new lip gloss, and I didn’t get it, because I convinced myself I didn’t really need it. An art pen kit, and I didn’t, because it was too expensive. I’m going to receive half the price of an old house in Iowa…. Whatever that is. Maybe around fifty Ks. That’s a lot.