This Way Down // peter parker

46

EDDIE WAS A good friend, but he was no Cindy. He had send me home with some toast in the morning, but I still felt exactly the same as I had when I first arrived at his home. One of the best things about Eddie was that he never pushed, but I had wish, just this once, that he had.

I sat in my parked car in my driveway for an hour before I finally forced myself into my home. My mom was cooking pancakes, music blasting from a speaker in the kitchen. This confused me. My mom hated cooking. Julian was dancing in his seat while he ate. My dad and Martha were watching with big smiles before my mom spotted me.

"Oh, Marina! Come eat." She gestured to the tall chair next to the island counter.

I didn't look at her. "I already ate. Thanks," I muttered, heading straight to my room. I tossed the bag with my school uniform to a corner, before changing out of the sweats my dad gave me for the night. My eyes lingered towards my calendar, pretty glittery stickers placed on days I had a match. I lifted the whole thing up, looking at the photos of Peter and me hidden underneath.

I wanted to talk to him, but I dropped my head a little at the thought. It seemed like a far-away dream to ever be close to him again. I had a feeling that even if I tried to contact him, he wouldn't respond.

Wasn't this what I wanted when I ghosted him? To keep myself from feeling the guilt? Why did it feel, then, like there was a hole in my chest? And why did I feel evil for hoping he still missed me deeply even though a lot of time has past? Wasn't that a terrible thing to hope for?

My dad opened my bedroom door, making me dropped the calendar. I crossed my arms, stepping closer to my bed, raising my eyebrows at him.

"I'll let you spend the night at Eddie's. Now you have to be nice to your mom."

I wanted to push back and say we never had a deal, but I nodded instead and followed him out of my room and back to the kitchen. I felt as if I did owe my dad this favor, like he deserved it since he let me go when I needed to leave. I was only doing it because of him. I smiled awkwardly at my mom as I hovered, unable to jump in the conversation, adding very little when asked a question directly.

I just had to grit my teeth and endure it.

-- -

THE RESTAURANT WAS filled with chatter even when the birthday cake came out, it's own set of waiters following behind it. It wasn't until the main guy blew a small whistle that people in the restaurant whipped their heads towards us, and bend their backs to get a good view of a couple of strangers singing happy birthday to my mom. She clutched her hands together, bring them close to her chest as her eyes glistened watching them sing. I wanted to scoff in disbelief.

I wondered what the people around us thought? That we were a happy family, maybe? That this was a great night of celebration, perhaps? Definitely not that we were a circus of a family. I doubt they could imagine just how angry I was at her, while also feeling guilty for being angry at her, and being angry for feeling guilty. Most of all, I wondered what everyone would think if they knew what kind of person my mom was and how my mom would rather eat dirt than have people sing happy birthday to her.

This whole thing felt phony and like an act to me, leaving a sour taste in my mouth. I was getting annoyed.

My dad gave me a look. It seemed I was doing a poor job at hiding my feelings. I wiped any expression I had off my face, playing with the food left on my plate instead.

When we were paying in the foyer of the restaurant after we had finished, it started to rain. We stood just outside the restaurant, starting at the direction of my dad's SUV parked too far to even make out in the fog. Julian had fallen asleep half way through the dinner. How he was able to sleep among all the noise? I wasn't sure. A skill I was jealous of, though. Oh, how I wished I could be unconscious during this night too. Julian was on my dad's back, his head rested near my dad's neck, and a bit of saliva falling from the corner of his mouth. As I watched him, standing behind my dad, I grew a bit nostalgic at the scene, having a sudden yearning for when I was Julian's age and I could rest on my dad's back, sleeping without a care in the world, having the world there for me, just at the ends of my fingertips. I could become anything at that age.