Dare Me to Live

Chapter 16 (Part two)

I tried to act nonchalant on the ride to Tyler's house, but I was worried he could see through my calm façade. I hummed off-key to the radio, watching the trees blur by us on the highway, my fingers locked under my thighs so they wouldn't give me away by tapping against my legs. I was so anxious about the looming dinner I forgot to be nervous about being in a car in the first place.

Tyler lived an hour away from school, but it felt like no time at all when we pulled into a neighborhood filled with large, yet modest houses. We turned right into a semicircle driveway that smiled in front of a white house with black shutters. Warm light shone from the windows that offered a view into the first floor. To the right, I could see half a dining room table already set with cutlery winking in the light of a small chandelier. A finger of smoke curled from a brick chimney at the side of the house.

Tyler led the way up a set of stone stairs and stuck a little key into the red front door. It swung wide to reveal a wide entrance hall with a high vaulted ceiling. To my right was the dining room, draped in fall colors of rusty red, burnt orange, and warm browns.

"Hello!" Tyler called. His voice carried down a hall that appeared to lead to the kitchen.

"In here!" replied a male voice.

Tyler took my coat and hung it in a side closet before beckoning me down the hall. Old school portraits and family photos speckled the blue walls, telling the story of what appeared to by the typical American family from wedding to children to high school graduations. One photo showed two skinny boys on a dock, proudly displaying a huge, slimy fish between them. Even though his brother was taller and had darker hair, the resemblance between them was distinctly noticeable.

Another one further down was a family picture from what must have been a special occasion. All three men were dressed in matching suits and ties while a woman in a slim, red dress—their mother—had a hand on each of her boy's shoulders. A young, high school Tyler with shaggy hair and a goofy smile grinned down at me from the last picture.

It was funny to see how much his smile had changed. The awkward kid in the picture had that adolescent hesitation about him, but now that he had grown into himself, his smile seemed like a natural extension of him, ready to reach out and embrace you like a confident handshake.

"At least I didn't peak in high school," he said, with a smirk.

"That's what you think," said the same male voice from before. A head poked around the corner. It was an older version of the dark-haired boy from the fishing picture, now sporting a beard and a shorter haircut. His teeth were extra white in his tanned face as he grinned devilishly at us.

Tyler lobbed a half-hearted punch at him. His brother dodged it easily and swung an arm around Tyler's neck in a head-lock, dragging him out of the hall and into the kitchen while knuckling his head.

"Boys, knock it off. I swear I gave birth to a pair of perpetual thirteen-year-olds."

I followed them into a big kitchen where everything looked new and spotless and shiny. The smells of turkey, butter, and garlic swirled around me in a heady aroma and set my mouth to watering. A woman with short, curly blond hair was at the island countertop chopping vegetables. She had put on a bit of extra padding around her hips, but otherwise looked the same as in the family picture.

"Hello there," she said, looking up from the cutting board. She swept the carrots and celery she had been preoccupied with into a salad bowl, wiped her hands on a dish towel, and clicked her way on dainty heels over to us.

She embraced Tyler and kissed him on the cheek before turning to me. I watched as she took in the newly dyed sections of my hair and the arrow earring through the top of my left ear, but, unlike Amber's mother, I didn't see the expected look of disapproval. The look that said, "What did my son bring home?" Maybe she was just good at hiding it, but her smile seemed genuine.