UnPlanned

by M. Piper

  “Mom I’m fine. I can find another job.”

  “I’m not sure if you heard me. Your father, the Senator of the state of Illinois, isn’t about to let the media tear apart his youngest daughter for being a hippie with no real cause in life. You’re coming home. That’s final.”

  When my parents say something’s final they mean it. The wheels of the jet touch the tarmac at Abraham Lincoln Capitol Airport ten minutes past one in the afternoon and I take a deep breath. It’s been years since I’ve been back in Springfield. I left before college and never looked back. The Pacific Northwest had looked so promising back then, especially for an art major like myself. My parent’s thought it was just a phase and one day I’d grow out of wanting to live off an artist’s wage. I’ve told them numerous times they’re dead wrong and I will succeed but yet again, they’ve proved me wrong by shipping me home like a caged animal.

  My parent’s driver, Michael, is waiting at the gate for me after I find my bags.

  “Good to see you, Wren,” Michael says, smiling and wrapping his arms around me. “It’s been too long.”

  Michael’s been with my parents for years, really he’s the most solid thing in my family. Isn’t that weird? You’d think a politician’s family would be solid but there’s so many holes in our family it’s like trying to walk on a sewer grate with stilettos. Something’s bound to break. Between the affairs my father has had to the fact that their youngest daughter is somewhat of a screw up they have their own problems to hide.

  Michael is the only thing I know will never change.

  “I’m happy to be back,” I lie.

  “Let’s get you some food,” he says, smiling with a twinkle in his eyes.

  Michael and I used to sneak away once a week for burgers and ice cream at Ice Cream Haven and he always bought me the extra-large sundae with a cherry on top. Most days I felt more of a connection with him than my own father. With my sister being so much older than me, we never really included her…if he did anything special with her it was news to me. I think he always knew we were kind of neglected by our own parents and tried to make up for it whenever he could.

  We pull into Ice Cream Haven and I smile.

  “You didn’t forget!” I laugh.

  “It was the highlight of my week making you smile. We didn’t see it very often back then. I hope that’s changed since?”

  We walk in and I try to pull together words that won’t give up everything that’s happened over the years. It’s one thing to be the screw up daughter, it’s a whole different thing to actually tell people outside the family circle about it.

  “Oh yea, things are peachy. I’m so excited to be back here.” I forgo actually having a heart to heart with him because I don’t know how close he’s grown to my parents over the years and I’d hate for him to add to my parents fire that I’m talking bad about them.

  They aren’t bad people, really. They love my sister and I and they’ve always wanted the best for us. They could have told me ‘no’ when I told them I wanted to go to art school and study across the country. They could have told me they were moving me back a few years ago when shit started hitting the fan. They’ve been supportive when a lot of parents would have given up…but it’s still hard living with political parents who are more worried about your appearance for the cameras than how you’re doing in school.

  My father, a senator in Illinois, and my mother running his political campaign and career like her life depends on it. Being around them in public means always having to be completely on point with every aspect of your life. Hair, makeup, dress… It all needs to be perfect because you never know when you’ll run into someone who would take the one thing not on point and rub your face in the dirt for it.

  No, they’re great parents…they’re just a bit much at times.

  That was another reason I wanted to move away. Being in Seattle, no one knew I was the daughter of Ron Potts even if he did have ties all over the city. I was able to distance myself from them… Look how far that got me.

  “So what are you doing back here, Miss Wren? I thought I’d never see your face again after you left for school. How was graduation?” Michael’s bright face from behind his milkshake makes my stomach roll with nerves and guilt. I figured my parents wouldn’t tell people about how much of a screw-up I became but I didn’t think they’d go as far as lying to the people closest to them. Omitting is one thing, flat out making up lies is a bigger issue.

  “Oh things are going pretty well. I’m just here to help Mom and Dad out for the summer. It’s not permanent.” It can’t be. I can’t live under my parents’ thumb my entire life. I need to figure out how to get out there and succeed in the world without depending on them.

  “What about a job? I’m sure taking all this time off isn’t going to bode well with them.”

  “Oh don’t worry about that,” I laugh. It’s the laugh I perfected as a child at the dinner parties my parents would drag us to. Completely fake yet no one can tell, not even Michael. “I’m an artist. I can work from anywhere.” I wink and take a bite of my melting sundae. Damn, even inside the summer heat is sweltering here. At least we didn’t have to worry about that in Seattle. God, I want to go back.

  I will. I just have to figure out my financial situation.

  “Well I hope you came back for the right reasons. Word on the street is your dad’s going for higher office.” He shrugs and looks around the empty room and I close my eyes, taking a smooth breath and breathing in the scent of my childhood-cool, crisp ice cream parlor- before opening them again.

  “He is, is he?” It’s scary, almost, how much I can put on a façade for those that I call close friends and family. I’m not depressed, but I don’t give two rat’s asses about my dad’s career. He’s never cared about mine.

  “Yep,” Michael says nodding. “Just don’t get mixed up in it. You’re better than that, Wren. You do more in this world than toss lies to the public just to gain more digits in your bank account.”

  My eyes go wide as he realizes the words that just left his mouth.

  “Oh no,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry, miss. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  I bark out a laugh and lean back in my seat. “Trust me, Michael. I’m not going to say anything. You should know how I feel about my parents by now.”

  We share a look and he finally nods in agreement.

  “Let’s get you home, dear. Your parents are probably worried sick.” He takes our trash to the trash can and I laugh, shaking my head.

  “I bet you they don’t even know I’ve landed yet.”

  He nods and sighs and when we close the car doors he clears his throat. “I’m sorry, Wren. I know your parents love you, they just have a horrid way of showing it. I truly hope you’re home on your own accord and it’s not something worse. I tried giving you a good childhood, but you’re an adult now. You need to stand up to them or they’re going to make you just as unhappy as they are.”

  His words shock me. I watch him as he puts the car into drive and pulls away, heading home. Michael’s aged in the few years I’ve been gone. I can only hope my dad has been treating him well. Like I said, they’re not mean people and I never remember him being mean with Michael, but stress does things to people. Bad things. And I can say without a doubt I’ve caused my parents more stress over the last few years than I did my entire life. Michael was the only one left here to deal with the downfall in person from the stress I caused my parents. I truly hope nothing I did has affected his treatment here.

  Fuck, listen to me. Day one and I’m already back to the self-doubting teenager I was when I left. At least in Seattle I was confident of who I was. Here, though? Here I have no clue who I am anymore.

  I get a text from my sister as we pull on to our street.

  Lark: How’s life in the middle of death valley, Illinois?

  Me: Haven’t seem Mom and Dad. Michael picked me up. We got ice cream. Going home now.

  Lark: *eye
roll* You’ll be fine. Pull up your big girl panties and get ready for a lecture.

  Me: Thanks

  I turn off my cell after sending the text. I can only hope Mom and Dad aren’t home when we get there. I need time to process being back home. Two days ago I didn’t think I’d ever have to come back here. Of course, that’s how my life works isn’t it? One minute I think I’m fine, the next I’m not.

  Right now, I’m absolutely not.

  “Here we are,” Michael announces, pulling into the long and winding drive.

  “Thanks Michael.” I clear my throat and pop the door open when it pulls to a stop in front of the large entryway. This place isn’t a mansion…it’s like a fucking castle. Cold, old yet modern, always clean and smells of lemon. It’s not a home. It’s just a house.

  “Good luck.” He gives me a pat on the shoulder before grabbing my bags from the trunk for me.

  “Thank you.” I smile and pause before turning and walking inside.

  I don’t bother calling out when I walk through the front door. They have enough security cameras to know that I’m here if they’re waiting for me.

  This place hasn’t changed a bit. A brand new bouquet of flowers, probably brought in by one of the staff members, waits at the massive round table in the middle of the foyer. Lemons fill a vase in the middle of the twelve-person dining table and as I walk into the kitchen I hear a noise behind me. Spinning, eyes wide, I laugh when Jay, our greyish blue cat, glides into the room and wraps himself around my ankles.

  “Oh Jay, you scared me.” I laugh and pick him up, giving him snuggles. “I’ve missed you.”

  “Have you missed me?” My mother’s emotionless voice startles me and I turn to see her standing in the middle of the kitchen. Her eyebrow raised, hand on her hip, and the outfit she’s wearing is so streamlined and flat I feel like she hasn’t sat down all day. How does she look like she just stepped out of a magazine? And why can’t I ever look that put together?

  “I did, mother,” I say, setting down Jay and walking over to her.

  We don’t hug normally but my mom wraps her arms around me and I try not to cringe and make it more awkward than it feels.

  “I’m happy you’re home, Wren.” She clears her throat and backs up, flattening down her dress again.

  “Same,” I nod, sighing. “I’ll take my bags to my room.”

  “Leave them, we need to talk.”

  “Mom, I just got off a plane ride from a move across the country that I had less than twelve hours to prepare for. Please let me get some rest.”

  “You’ve been ‘resting’ enough lately, Wren. The time is here. Now, come. Your father is in the study waiting for you.”

  I try not to roll my eyes as I follow her down the long, dark hallway. She’s never given me an option with my life, I guess that’s why when they said yes to moving to Seattle with my older sister I didn’t think twice about leaving.

  Little did I know they’d still be able to micromanage my life from halfway across the country.

  “Ah, my Wren. How are you, doll?” My father doesn’t even attempt to get up from his seat at his desk. He looks up and nods to the chair in front of the desk. “Sit. I have plans for you.”

  “Plans? It’s nice to see you too, dad,” I say, annoyed.

  “Sit. I need to tell you about this job I have lined up for you.” He looks about as annoyed as I feel right now. Anger races through me at his talk about him getting me a job.

  “Dad, I’m not working for the government building. I refuse to be-”

  “Hah! No, it’s definitely not that. I wouldn’t do that to us.” He takes off his glasses and gives me a look like he’s disappointed in me for even thinking that. “I got you a job as a counselor at a day camp. Four year olds. You’ll be teaching art.”

  I narrow my eyes at him and look over at my mom who’s rolling her eyes.

  “Mom?”

  “It wasn’t my idea, dear. Your father did all of it,” she scoffs, walking out of the room. “Dinner at five, you two,” she says on her way out.

  “Dad, what’s this all about? Why would you do this to me? I’m fully capable of getting myself a job. I mean, if I even stay here.”

  He stops signing whatever paperwork he’s working on and looks up at me again.

  “Trust me, Wren. It’s not for you. I need this campaign to go smoothly and you’ve proven lately how bumpy you like to have your life. With you back home, I need things smooth and not messy. The media will eat our family alive if they knew your past. How much can you screw up working at a summer camp with kids?”

  He could have throat punched me and it would have hurt less than his words just did.

  “I’m happy you think of me so highly, Dad,” I say, resigned that he’s never going to look at me as anything other than something to use to manipulate the public eye. I watch as he shakes his head and goes back to his paperwork, not saying another word about it.

  If there’s one thing my dad’s good for, it’s having the final say. It’s been that way my entire life. Hell, before I was even born! From what I’ve been told, I wasn’t named after a bird on a whim. My father had child names picked out before he was even married to my mother so when it came time to name the babies he wouldn’t have it any other way.

  See, my dad used to be a bird enthusiast. I remember Sunday morning’s he’d be out back just waiting to spot different bird types in the yard. Wren and Lark are two he loves, for some reason, so he had the final say in naming the kids I guess. It probably helped him that my mother never really wanted kids to begin with.

  We’re just one big happy fucking family, right?

  I head to my room and unpack my charcoals first, bringing a blank sheet of newsprint to the easel by the bay window and start a new sketch. This helps. Creating new, original pieces helps melt away the stress of the last few days.

  They can bring me home and try to suffocate me, but they’ll never take away my first love.

  “Here ye! Here ye!” I hear him practicing before I even round the corner and growl.

  “No,” I blurt, walking into the room. “Those doors open in five minutes and this shit isn’t happening right now.” I wave him up and down and let out an annoyed laugh.

  Billy, some kid my parents picked up to do the tours this summer, slumps his shoulders. He’s dressed to the nines in some getup that he claims Lincoln used to wear as a teenager, but he’s talking like he’s a fucking newsboy. Obviously this kid has a lot to learn about history. We only do tours to the public a few days a week, but this isn’t happening on my watch. Lincoln didn’t ever fucking say that!

  “Sorry,” he mumbles, walking out of the room.

  “Change your clothes!” I yell after him right before the door slams.

  Rolling my eyes at him, I try to shake off the annoyance that is the first week of summer vacation. It’s not really a vacation. Not for me. It’s just the start of the annoying summer camps that need to find something to do with their herds of children.

  Typically I run the books for my parents, but with my dad working so much on the renovation they need a more hands-on employee so I’m trying to save them another paycheck. That means manning the house while the high school kids get History class credit while running the tours.

  Thankfully we have an entire separate staff running the evening events or I’d never see my son.

  Add to the stress of making sure this place stays one of the hottest spots in the city and keeps bringing in the money we need to keep it going, Carter’s been sick as a dog and it’s all I can do to get a good night’s sleep this week. I’m exhausted. I’m on edge. I’m not thrilled about the roof fix I have to do this weekend. And if one more person looks at me like I’m a caged animal, ready to attack, I may just prove them right.

  “Hey bro,” Ford calls for me with three minutes to go until the first bus drops kids off.

  “In here!” I yell from the office.

  “You see the chicks out there today? Th
e whole street’s full of ‘em!” He grins and leans on the doorframe.

  Ford’s just a year and a half younger than me but the guy’s got something against growing up. If we could be any more opposite I’d be surprised, but that doesn’t make me love him any less. He’s got a good heart, even if his head is always in the wrong spot.

  “Half those ‘chicks’ out there aren’t even eighteen yet, Ford.” I chuckle. “And they’re camp counselors,” I whisper, pretending to care.

  “That means half of them are legal.” He grins. “Plus, the quiet ones are always the freakiest, bro.” He knocks on the doorframe on his way out. “I’ll man check-in today. We wouldn’t want your pretty face getting too sweaty out there,” he says, walking down the hallway.

  Fine by me. His help today means I can get more shit done inside that needs to be done and maybe get out of here in time to take Carter to the park. The days are going to start getting longer and the heat wave is coming. Anything outside we want to do needs to happen in the next few weeks or it’s going to become too warm and humid for him to play out there. Before being a dad I never thought about how the heat could affect kids, but last summer was my first summer with him and though he was still tiny, I was never more worried about someone overheating.

  I crack my neck and head out to the main room where Billy is introducing himself to the crowd. It’s a decent size this morning so I stand and listen to his speech, making sure he doesn’t see me. That isn’t to say that the people in the group haven’t noticed me. I’ve seen the way some of these daycare teachers have been eyeballing me ever since I walked into the room. I’m a single dad without a social life, I never said I wasn’t still as good looking as the day that girl dropped Carter off on my doorstep. Granted, I may walk around with snot on me half the time now, but the other half of the time I’m a catch!

  “This uh… Hey nice shirt,” I hear him say and roll my eyes. Flirting on the job. Perfect. “I mean this room. It’s said this was Lincoln’s favorite room of the house. They probably sat right there where you’re standing on cold nights when they needed to stay warm by the fire during social gatherings.”