On The Other Side

Chapter Twelve

"Violet, this is your final warning to get downstairs. Your grandparents are pulling into the driveway." Her voice is laced with annoyance, her patience wearing thin. My bare feet slap against the hardwood stairs as I rush down and into the main foyer, just as my grandparents ring the doorbell. I don't bother to call out to Mom to let her know that I'll get the door, instead I turn the knob and plaster a smile across my face. I feel shame as I notice it's a fake smile, if it were me ten years ago I would've had even thought about putting a smile on.

My grandmother is the first to step in as the oak door opens, "Violet dear, you look amazing. So grown up now." She kisses me on the cheek as she switches her leather handbag to her left hand, grabbing a tray of food from my grandfather behind her. As she waltzes into the kitchen my grandfather hugs me, chuckling to himself, "I'll never become bored of that woman."

My heart skips a beat at his comment except I'm unsure why. I've never had a second thought when it came to my grandparents relationship but now the thought of anything romantic makes bile rise in my throat. I smile at him, offering him my arm as we make our way into the kitchen.

"You all take a seat, the lasagna should only take another minute or two. Calvin should be home any moment now, he called to say he got caught up in work." The sound of wood scraping on the floor makes me jolt. Eyes flicker towards me, questioning me silently until they realize I'm not going to say anything. I'm just going to pull out my chair and sit down acting like nothing happened. Because nothing did happen. Mom glares up at my as my grandparents take a seat in their chairs. Her expression reads nothing but seriousness, telling me to act natural and respectful while they're here. I nod to let her know I understand, that I'll be on my 'best behaviour' until my grandparents shut their car doors for the second time this evening. She tilts her body towards my grandparents, attempting to start a conversation with them about their latest event. My grandmother is estactic to tell her about it, she's always been into spilling every little detail about her life over supper.

The jangling of keys in the door interrupts their conversation, their voice coming to a halt. At the same time the door swings open to reveal my suited father, thumping comes from the staircase. Harley. My mind had been so caught up in the events of yesterday that I hadn't even thought to call for Harley once my grandparents had arrived. Her voice interrupts my thoughts, "Daddy! You're late coming home. It's nearly my bed time, why were you so late?" I glance at the clock hanging above the dining room window. 7:13 P.M. Thirteen of those minutes are part of Harley's "wind-down" time; a time in which she can't have any electronics or be outdoors, she must be in her pajama's sitting in her bedroom with all of her chores done. I glance at Mom, seeing if she has anything to add about Harley being up and dressed so late but, she doesn't. She doesn't say a word to anyone. Instead, she excuses herself from the table and claims she's going to check on the lasagna.

Dad walks in at the same time that she is leaving, her in a rush to exit the room while he stands to the side, the exact opposite of her. He waits patiently until the path is clear. Placing his briefcase in the corner of the room, he greets both of his parents with a kiss on the cheek before sitting down at the other end of the table, between my grandfather and I.

"How are you doing in school Vi? I haven't seen you studying much, you have four exams in June." My mother has never been able to stand silence at the supper table, especially if there is guests present. A groan escapes my lips at the reminder of exams arising so soon. Even if it's the last week of April my parents are hounding me to begin my studying. Last September I chose seven courses that have exams, three of them being at the end of last semester while leaving the final four to this semester. I allow the lasagna to slide off the spatula and onto my plate, "It's going great. I'd rather study at the library when I'm at school, helps me focus."

"Oh Flora, leave her be. She just finished a regional assessment! Violet knows how to manage her time." A smile spreads across my face as my grandmother defends me, even if it isn't much. My parents have always had the tendency to put pressure on me to do academically well, even if I already do exceptionally well. Looking up from across the table, my grandfathers cracked lips form into a slight smile — a smile that is so much more than a smile. Being pressure to do well in every aspect of my life has led to me doing anything to escape my house, often riding my bicycle over two blocks to my grandparents home. I find myself smiling back, the memories resurfacing in my mind.

For the most part, the rest of the evening went smoothly. Until it didn't. Out of no where a deep voice cuts through the conversation going on, a voice that belongs to the man at the head of the table. "Violet, where were you last night? You being at a party will get you grounded. Don't think that rule has changed because others have in recent years." My fork drops onto my plate, the clattering noise sounding deafening in such a silent room. My stomach churns and suddenly I feel the urge to be sick. I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't do this. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I shrug my shoulders mumbling an excuse about Emery being upset, that she needed me there. It's no where near the truth but it's the only thing my father will believe after breaking curfew one too many times in freshman year.

Silence ensues, the only noise being cutlery scraping against plates and being placed down on the table seconds later. To my right a deep breath sounds from Harley, her breath becoming heavy. "Violet kissed Elliot on the porch two nights ago."