As soon as I get to the gate, I hear one of my little brothers. “Livia! Over here, we’re over here!”
“Yes, Gabe, you don’t have to yell.” I could feel his excitement even before I spotted him, but I also felt Ian’s emotions, and he is not as happy as Gabe. In fact, he is not excited at all. His shiny green eyes are dull today—eyes are the first to express how we feel within. The eyes never lie.
“Hey little man, what’s the matter?” I muss his perfectly combed blond hair when I reach them. “Aren’t you excited about flying?”
“I don’t want to go anywhere,” he mutters. “I want to go back home and play with my toys and eat lunch with Annette.”
Ian’s sadness touches deep inside of me. Kids’ emotions are so pure and naive. Their rawness enables them to have a more profound effect on me.
“You’ll be able to play with your toys as soon as we get to our new house,” I assure him. “They’re already there in your new bedroom, waiting for you.”
“Yeah, but Annette won’t be there.”
“I know, Ian, but she needs to stay here with her parents and her family. They need her too. Maybe she’ll come and visit one day.” I try to comfort him, but the pain in his eyes doesn’t change.
I sit down next to Mom, who is resting on a bench not far from where my brothers were watching out for me. She’s holding a Time magazine, her forehead scrunched up. She always gets frustrated when she reads world news.
“Is the flight on schedule?” I ask. “I can’t wait to get in this plane and sleep.”
She folds the magazine on her lap and gives me a look. “Did you sleep at all last night?”
“I was trying to make sure I’d be sleepy for the trip. I don’t want to risk dealing with people’s problems.” I wish they had an off button. “It’s a long flight.”
Mom’s lips curl down on the side, and her eyes show pity. She doesn’t like that I need to seclude myself from the world. She wishes we could find a way to block all of this empathy that I can feel for others, but she knows it’s not possible. That sense of feeling defeated is always the worst.
When we finally board the plane, we find our seats and settle ourselves down. Gabe sits next to me and asks for the window seat, of course.
“I want to see everything get really small as we climb up in the sky!” he announces.
I think he is going to pass out in no time. He is running on adrenaline, and that’s going to wear him out.
And mercifully, as the airplane is taking off, I drift off to sleep.
2 Adam
“No, Lindsay!” I yell, pushing her off me. “How many times do I have to tell you? I am not interested in you or whatever you have to offer. Get off my bed!”
“Your body says otherwise,” she says, pointing at my crotch.
“You know my little brother or sister could walk in here any second.” I’m practically snarling, but I’m too sick and tired of her to bother with it. “Not to mention my mom!”
“Your dad is at work, and your mom went to Seattle with the rest of your family,” she counters. “We’re alone.” She moves closer until she is on top of me, and I’m trapped.
My bedroom is on the first floor and has French doors leading to the patio. I have access in and out without having to use the front door. That’s how Lindsay gets in. I’ve given in to her sneakiness once or twice, but I won’t let it happen again, because if I keep leading her on, she’ll never leave me alone. If only I could remember to lock the damn door.
“Come on, Lindsay, get off me! Don’t you have any self-respect?” I glare at her in disgust, and that gets it into her head.
She slowly moves away. “You are such a jerk, Adam. I’m here trying to save our relationship—our love—and you’re treating me like crap.”
Tears slip down her cheeks, and I would feel sorry for her if I didn’t know any better. But this is Lindsay, and she plays with my head. She knows how to manipulate a situation.
“What love?” I ask. “I’ve never said I love you, and our relationship was done three months ago. It sort of ended when you decided to mess around with my best friend.”
I try to poke where it hurts. I really couldn’t care less who she’s been with, but if I have to play the victim for her to leave, I will.
“You want me to leave? Because once I walk out of that door, I’m not coming back. Ever!”
I walk up to her, closing the distance between us. I wipe her tears away. “That’s exactly what I want you to do, Lindsay.”
I drop my hands from her face and push the patio door open, gesturing for her to leave. I wait until she turns around and stomps her way out of my bedroom and, hopefully, out of my life.
I broke up with Lindsay three months ago. It would’ve lasted longer if she wasn’t so suffocating. She always tried to control my life and dictate who I should or shouldn’t hang out with. She never took it well when I disagreed with her or went my own way. It’s no surprise that she didn’t take the breakup very well, either.
The first week we broke up, she showed up in my bedroom at one in the morning, crying and begging me to take her back. She said we were the golden couple and everyone looked up to us. She has always cared too much about what people think of her, and she’d do anything to keep her popularity. I’ve told her many times that our relationship is over and done, she just doesn’t seem to get it.
It’s almost noon now. I slept all morning. I must have been exhausted. I usually wake up early. I like to go for a run before school, even though we are on summer break, I’ve kept my habits.
The past couple of weeks, I’ve been going to sleep late. When I’m not working, or out with the guys, I’m training Aphrodite, my horse. Maybe I should call her my ex-horse. Mom sold her to our super-rich new neighbors who are moving here from New York City. Dad knew them from medical school but lost contact right after they graduated. Now, they’ve bought twenty-five acres of land from my family. They built a huge house on it and a nice horse barn. Apparently, the barn’s a surprise for their daughter.
We breed horses and they’ve bought two from us—the last two horses we bred, actually. Since I have been training Aphrodite for a while now, I told Mr. Berwick, our new neighbor, that I would finish her training myself.
My grandpa taught me how to train horses. He was a professional and had his own training facility. He was one of the best in the West, and gained his reputation by training horses for the Kentucky Derby and other races. Unfortunately, Grandpa had a heart attack and passed away four years ago. In her grief and determination to uphold his legacy, Mom decided to keep his horses and breed them. Now, she is tired of it.
I’m leaving for college soon, and she doesn’t want to keep up the training without me. Dad is too busy at the hospital and he can’t help, nor would he want to. If there’s a part of me that doesn’t care about going to college, this is why.
After taking a brief shower, I stop by the kitchen before heading outside. As I step into the room, I see Dad searching the fridge, and I freeze.
What is he doing home?
In any case, he hasn’t noticed me, and I might still be able to sneak out before he sees me.
“Adam?” he calls.
I take a deep breath and turn to face him.
“Hey, Dad,” I give a flat smile. “I thought you were at work.”
“My afternoon surgery was canceled, so I thought it would be nice to surprise your mom by coming home for lunch, but I guess I should have called. There’s nothing to eat, and she’s not here.”
He says it half-joking, but is hoping I’ll sit down with him.
“She went to Seattle,” I say, edging toward the patio door.
“Where are you headed?”
“I gotta meet Alo at the barn. I’m running late.” I watch as Dad slightly shakes his head. I feel like rolling my eyes or lashing out in defense of my work, but that would get me in trouble. I just swallow the knot in my throat and keep quiet.
“Why don’t y
ou volunteer at the hospital today?” he says. He just doesn’t know when to quit. “I’m sure they could use your help, you know—do something more productive for your future. The hours you put in volunteering at the hospital will help with your application to medical school.”
“I’ve been working there four days a week,” I press. “I do need a break sometimes.”
Dad nods. The doorknob burns in my hand, wanting me to turn it, but I know he isn’t done yet.
“You know, life won’t give you much free time once you get into school. You’ll need to learn how to use your time wisely.”
I use all my strength to return his smile. “Yeah, but right now, I’m not in school. So, if you don’t mind, I am heading out.”
He looks at me carefully for a moment and then nods again. “Enjoy your afternoon, son.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
I finally open the door and step outside. I breathe deep and count to ten until my fist loosens up. That’s the thing with Dad: nothing is ever in my favor around him.
He’s always complaining about how much time I dedicate to the horses, and he thinks I should be studying and preparing to get into college. I wonder how far away from him I should be when I get the nerve to tell him medical school is not for me.
I walk into the barn and find Alo saddling Sicilian. Alo is our professional horse trainer, and he is currently taking the time to teach me some tricks. I’ve known Alo for years. He used to work with my grandpa, and now he has his own training facility. Mom has been paying him to train our last few colts. I have been helping and learning at the same time when I work alongside him, and he pretty much lets me train Aphrodite on my own. I’ve grown so attached to her, after all; interacting with her comes to me so easily.
“Morning,” I greet him. “Sorry I didn’t come earlier. I slept in today and ran into Dad, and he wouldn’t stop blabbing.”
“I was about to call you,” says Alo. “We need to take the horses to your new neighbors today. I’m taking Sicilian. Can you bring Aphrodite? ”
I walk into her stall and pet her. “Yeah, sure. I’ll get her ready.”
Time goes by fast, too fast; I wasn’t looking forward to this day. I brush her, making sure I get her all cleaned up, then I take her saddle from the wall hanger.
After I get Aphrodite ready, we head out into the woods. My parents placed small trails all over our wooded land, which used to be 110 acres. Now that my dad sold almost a quarter of it, we’ll have to share the trails with our new neighbor. We’ll also have to share the small lake we have between our houses. The lake is where I like to spend most of my sunny afternoons, and I definitely don’t want to share that place with anyone, much less strangers. I hope the neighbors will stay away—the water is extremely cold, and once they’ve tried to swim in it, I doubt they’ll be hanging around there much.
As we ride toward the neighbors’ house, I notice that Aphrodite keeps ignoring my commands to halt. She just keeps going without slowing down—not good. I’ve been working on this for a while now, but she isn’t budging.
“This is going to be a problem,” Alo says, drawing up alongside me. “Don’t let the Berwick girl ride on her until you’re sure she will obey. If she gains speed and is uncontrolled, it will get ugly.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll work something out.”
Alo analyzes my position. “Try a half-halt. You might have better luck.”
It works. I get Aphrodite under control, and we reach the Berwick’s barn soon after. My mouth falls open at the sight of it. The barn is much nicer than I thought it would be. In fact, the thing doesn’t even look like a barn. It’s built out of large timbers and perfectly matches the main house. It looks like a guesthouse.
I dismount and walk Aphrodite into the barn, and even she seems to be impressed with her new digs.
“You’ll be fine here, girl,” I assure her. “I’ll be coming over often. We obviously still have some training to do.”
It’s hard to say goodbye. I sit on the floor and tilt my head back, leaning against the wall. I look at Aphrodite and I wonder if she knows that this is her new home, now. I sit here, talking to the mare, until Alo makes me leave.
* * *
As soon as I get home, I hop on my horse, Bader, and head to the lake. The sun is still bright and high above me. This is my favorite time of the year—not too much rain, and the perfect amount of heat. The sun sets around nine p.m., and it rises before four in the morning. This is our summer, which only lasts a couple of months, and then the rainy days come back.
I reach the lake with time to watch the sun shine over the water and project its amber color into the cold depths. I hardly ever witness that; evergreen trees contour the lake, blocking the sunlight for most of the day. There’s a massive rock surrounded by smaller rocks on the water’s edge. When I was seven, I learned to climb up to the highest stone. I colored my initials on it and claimed it as my throne. That way, my friend Kyle and my brother Kevin knew to stay away. It really is a throne, in a sense; I can see the whole lake from up there.
I have some good memories from this place. I used to come here a lot with Grandpa. We camped and fished out here during the summer when I was younger. I miss those moments with him, because I’ve never had times like that with Dad. I spend more time with my horse than I do with my family.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about my life, my past, and what I want for my future, and I wish Grandpa was here to talk to. He was the solidity in my life, and I know he could tell me what to do if he were still around. All I have now, though, is Bader. Grandpa gave him to me as a birthday present. Dad didn’t like the idea of me riding by myself, especially on Bader, a Friesian horse. He’s tall, bulky, and fast. Grandpa still thought it was a more appropriate gift than the bow and arrow Dad gave me.
It was the beginning of deer hunting season when Dad gave it to me, and he wanted me to go with him. I hit two bucks and I only used two arrows. Dad and everyone else were impressed, but I didn’t even want to be there, so I made sure to get it over with as fast as possible. I had only wanted to come home and ride Bader.
I never really had much in common with my dad. We like different things, we think different things, and we expect different things from life. I’ve always kept my thoughts to myself, though, and worked hard to maintain a good relationship with him. I ignore things that bother me and I appreciate the good things he does for me. I know he wants the best for his kids, but sometimes, I can’t help myself.
I should do what I think is best for me, what I think will make me happy, and not what would make him happy. I get the impression that he’ll always support me just as long as I do what he wants, and that’s another reason why I can’t wait to live a life all my own.
3 Livia
Five hours later, we land at Seattle-Tacoma airport. I wake up feeling like I’ve only slept an hour.
I stumble after my mom to the baggage claim, where Dad would be waiting—he got here early to retrieve our dog. He’s there with Bento when we spot him, and the boys dash in his direction.
“So how was the flight?” Dad asks as we approach.
“It was awesome!” Gabe, filled with excitement, is the one to answer. “I even saw snow on the mountains! I saw volcanoes!”
“Yeah, we saw volcanoes!” Ian added.
My little brothers are very excited about all these volcanoes in the area, and they can’t wait to take a trip to see one up close. I remember visiting Grandma here in the nearby town of Bellingham on my summer vacations, and she would drive me to Mt. Baker. But it’s been a long time since we came this way, and I haven’t visited her in about six years now. The last couple of times I saw her, she came to New York.
Dad comes closer placing his hand on my head. “How about you, Livia? Enjoy the volcanoes, as well?”
“I enjoyed sleeping.”
“Oh, so you missed all the fun?”
“Believe me, I’m glad.”
“‘Sleep is the best med
ication’,” Dad quotes and I’m starting to feel a little guilty for getting it right every single time. However, I do enjoy showing off.
“That one’s easy; the Dalai Lama.”
“You never miss one!” Dad smiles and I nod. It’s not like I can forget.
We get in the car and Bento finds his spot under my feet, which makes me a little uncomfortable, but I know he wants to be close to me. Then, we’re on our way to Whidbey Island.
Recently, I read that Whidbey has more than half of its population living in rural areas and there are lots of farms. It’s a large island, thirty-five miles long and one and a half to twelve miles wide, with 168.67 square miles, making it the 40th largest island in the United States. The downside is the rain—a lot of it; to the tune of thirty inches a year.
Sometimes I wonder if I’ll run out of room in my memory. I wonder, too, if it might actually be a relief to start forgetting factoids someday, like cleaning the clutter out of my desk drawer.
Every couple of minutes, I hear one of the boys asking, “Are we there yet?” It couldn’t be more annoying.
But I understand their excitement about starting a new adventure. We’ll finally have a yard, land, and fresh air to breathe. We used to have a house in Lake Placid, near my Uncle Henry’s stables in upstate New York, and I have high hopes that our new home will be even better than that house.
I used to ride Maya, a beautiful Appaloosa, on the endless miles of trails up in Lake Placid. When Dad first told us about moving to Whidbey, I begged him to consider buying us a horse of our own. He knows how much I love them, and our new house has enough land for that, but all he ever said was, “You’ll have to talk to the neighbors about riding theirs,” and he’d pull down his emotional filter. He would concentrate his thoughts on a different subject, something that had nothing to do with what we were talking about. By doing that, his emotions changed. It’s not easy for him to do this; it takes a lot of effort, and his emotions go back and forth between completely different feelings, and that’s what I call a shield.
Resilient Page 2